The smoke was thick and pitch-black, blocking Ethan’s vision and filling his lungs.

“What the fuck is going on?!” he yelled out. “Cole! Does that happen often?”

“It’s a spell,” rasped Cole. “Somebody is-ow!”

Cole’s sentence was cut short by a loud thud and a pained groan.

“Cole? Cole?!”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

There was another sound - a quick, rushed pitter patter of feet, someone running off rapidly. Ethan jumped towards the sound, immediately knocking the nearest chair over.

Smoke burned his eyes, and the floor of Cole’s warehouse was littered with so many things, there wasn’t a single square foot free of a tripping hazard. Ethan could only hope that Gilbert was far more athletic and graceful than he was.

Focusing on the sound of the feet, he ran behind the culprit, reaching out his hand.

“Gotcha,” he said, grabbing onto a piece of fabric. The perpetrator yelled out, first in fear, then in anger.

“Stop wiggling around for a moment, will you?” said Ethan, struggling to keep the unseen criminal from moving away. He couldn’t help but notice the perpetrator was incredibly short, less than 4 feet tall, and like most short people, very lively and full of anger.

All it took was a swift kick in the Shadowveil family jewels to bring Ethan to his knees. “Ow! Oh, you sneaky little-”

The dark smoke began to move rapidly. There was a soft whoosh sound, like a vacuum going at full power. The thief thrashed more and more desperately, as Ethan refused to let go of the fabric, pain be damned.

The smoke lifted just enough for Ethan to see the sheen of a blade, cutting off the fabric and slashing his fingers.

“Jesus fucking chri-”

When the smoke lifted all the way, the thief was gone.

“Shadowveil! Are you alright?” exclaimed Lysandra. Her wand was pulsating, a small dark cloud swirling around it the only remnant of the smokescreen it just dispelled.

“Just peachy,” moaned Ethan sadly, clutching his bleeding fingers. “I think they got away,” he added.

“And they knocked Cole unconscious and stole the stabilizer,” grumbled Lysandra. “Oh Stars above, you’re bleeding like crazy. Allow me.”

Lysandra healed his wounds with the gentleness and caring of someone who has never needed nor tried to be gentle in her life. It stung.

“I got some fabric,” said Ethan. “It looks like… a hood?”

“Hmm. A hood, yeah. Dark gray, 70% synthetic fabric, cut crudely with a sharp blade,” Lysandra turned it over. “It got some of your blood on it, but not too much considering how much you’re bleeding. This will be very important. Did you notice anything else about them?”

“They were short. Definitely under 4 feet.”

“I see. That also checks out with the size of the hood. So we are looking for gnomes, halflings, goblins…”

“Or a child,” mused Ethan.

“What?”

“The thief could’ve been a child.”

“Any basis for that theory, Shadowveil?”

“Children have a great capacity for evil,” stated Ethan wisely. “Also, the voice was strange when they called out. High pitched, but in a… remarkably pathetic way.”

“A pathetic voice. I sure am looking forward to seeing that on your official report tomorrow.”

Ethan chuckled, then turned around. “So… what are we going to do with Cole? Is he even going to be alright? He’s still unconscious.”

“He’s an undead, he’ll wake up in a few minutes to hours. They’re a sturdy sort, believe me.”

“I’d feel bad just leaving him here, though. The wards are down, electricity’s down, he’d be defenseless while he’s unconscious.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Lysandra crossed her arms. “He’s an undead, Gilbert. It is our duty as citizens to turn him in to the authorities.”

“What- authorities? And what, pray tell, will the authorities do to him?” he felt anger boiling inside of him.

“You know exactly what they do to the undead, Shadowveil.”

“Say it! Say it out loud, Lysandra.”

She looked away, not meeting his gaze. “The priests of the Stars return their souls back to the heavens.”

“They’ll kill him! He didn’t even do anything!”

“I know. And it did not stop you from reporting undead before,” Lysandra’s eyes were cold as steel. “27 undead in the 5 years we’ve worked together.”

Ethan was speechless. How could the real Gilbert have done this? Were the other undead posing an actual threat, or were they as innocent as this nerd playing Solitaire for weeks at a time?

“I don’t want to make him number 28,” he said softly, ashamed for the acts that he did not do nor remember.

Strangely, Lysandra’s body language became more relaxed. “Good. It wouldn’t feel right,” she looked at Cole. “So. Are we taking him to your place, or to the office?”

“My place. I don’t think the office would be too comfortable.”

Lysandra nodded, and began to chant.

----------------------------------------

Lysandra left soon after teleporting them home, saying she’ll be back in a few hours after she’s had some sleep, and grumbled about how the sun will be rising in an hour as she left for her own home. Cole was knocked out unconscious and showing no signs of waking up anytime soon. Ethan made him as comfortable as he could in a guest bedroom, had another one of the witch dog cheesy ramens, and, after much pacing and thinking, fell asleep in Gilbert’s overly luscious bed.

He dreamed of working at O’Mega Mart again, and woke up in cold sweat and a strange sense of relief upon finding himself in Gilbert’s body again.

Cole was up by now, reading one of Gilbert’s books in the living room.

“Hello,” said Ethan.

“You didn’t report me,” said Cole, his voice hollow.

“It didn’t seem right.” Ethan shrugged.

“There’s laws. They’ll be on your back if they realize you’re knowingly aiding an undead, and no amount of the famous Shadowveil charm will help you.”

“I- look, do you want me to report you? It sure does sound like it.”

“No,” Cole looked down at his book. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. I- uh, can I ask you a few things?”

Cole nodded in agreement.

“Okay. Great. First… How did you become an undead?”

Cole chuckled. “Not the question I expected. An experiment went wrong and I died. Next thing I knew, a witch raised me from the dead. I had to pay my Life Debt to her over the next five years until I was finally free from her.”

“Life Debt?”

“When a necromancer raises you from the dead, they require payment for services rendered, whether you want to become an undead or not. If you don’t have any money, you end up being their servant until they deem the debt as paid.”

Ethan nodded. “Wow. Shit.”

“Indeed.”

“Second question - that computer. Where did you get it?”

Cole smirked. “It is my most prized possession. It originates from the Mirror Plane.”

“What is the Mirror Plane?”

“Do you mind if I ask you a question back, detective?”

“Oh? Ah, yeah, absolutely.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ethan blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t know what the Mirror Plane is - any five year old has heard tales of the Mirror Plane. You know how electricity works, and you know the word computer. And to top it all off, you speak in a… hm, well, a most undignified manner.”

“Okay, wow,” said Ethan, hurt. “I’m sorry I’m not Shakespeare.”

“Who the fuck shakes spears? Are they stupid?”

“No, it’s- oh, goddamnit. I’m dying not being able to tell anyone.” Ethan looked around nervously, as if worried that Lysandra might appear from some dark corner at any moment. “You kind of owe me your life, so I trust you’ll be smart enough to keep your mouth shut about this.”

Ethan took a deep breath. He knew everything he was about to say sounded stupid, even by the standards of the world he’s found himself in.

“I’m not Gilbert Shadowveil, and I think the real guy is retired… in my body, in my world somewhere.”

He told Cole everything, not certain if saying anything at all out loud is a good idea. He told him about the Shadowveil Manor, the letter, and about Laes; he told him about waking up as Gilbert for the first time and not being able to find out where the keys are. He told him about his world, about O’Mega Mart and about his cybersecurity studies. Cole listened to everything with great interest, and it was the first flicker of emotion he’s seen in his undead eyes.

“Wow,” Cole finally said. “I’m going to be honest, this is weirder than anything I’ve ever heard.”

“Thanks.”

“As you might’ve guessed, your world is what we call the Mirror world,” explained Cole. “It’s not actually a mirror plane. It’s just the closest material plane to ours, so it’s easiest for certain phenomena to happen. Sometimes your plane spills into ours, causing natural disasters and bringing forth terrifying demons; sometimes our plane spills into yours, but most of the time, the planes exist close to each other, not disturbing one another one bit. Travel between planes is extremely difficult, but not impossible.”

“How difficult?”

“Extremely. But that’s not the fun part. I’ve heard tales - I always disregarded them as bullshit, but I’m starting to believe it might be true. Tales of people who wake up with a foreign soul in their bodies. Changelings.”

“How often does it happen? What makes it happen?”

“No idea. But I know one thing - in all these tales, the changeling always has full access to the memories and knowledge of the original.”

Ethan sat back, pensive.

“But Gilbert locked up his whole mind mansion…”

“M-hm.”

“I can’t help but feel,” Ethan said, mind racing. “That the real Gilbert is setting me up.”