And so, came the time to rest.

How far could an undead be pushed mentally? Could one break? Be driven mad?

Divine intervention aside...we weren't sure. Some undead started out insane, while others grew cold and distant at best, and alien, incomprehensible, at worst.

The oldest strigoi, returned from the grave during the beginning of Orthodox Christianity, were monstrous, insatiable things. A handful were scattered across their homelands, sleeping or prowling the shadows, but most, having survived the early purges, had fled to Siberia, to dwell under the frozen plains and mountains.

Eating enough lifeforce could give a strigoi power beyond the ken of mankind, power to equal any god-and insanity to match.

I prayed I would never become like that. With my godsight, I could alter myself, place safeguards in my mind and soul, but...

But, at the moment, I wasn't thinking about that. I should have probably known creation wouldn't allow that, with how it seemed to abhor my mental peace, but I didn't.

Did the punishment fit my laxness? Perhaps. But I was too busy thinking of Mia.

My zmeu...she'd driven herself crazy, trying to think of ways to free me and failing, that I almost felt guilty for so easily slipping my chains after mastering my godsight. It was stupid, I knew, but...ah, fuck it. I was part god, to a degree, however small. When it came to people like me, there was no such thing as madness. Merely eccentricity.

As Mia's head lay on my chest, I listened to her strong heartbeat and steady breathing while she slept, an arm wrapped around her, and smiled.

Szabo-and oh, what a vile things he had taken upon himself...what followed was scarcely less terrible, for all that it would be long in the coming-would have laughed, said we were both fools clinging to this aspect of humanity. I would have agreed, but for something: loving someone was not stupid, and I pitied whoever thought it was.

Other strigoi scorned softer pleasures, including sex, but I couldn't be arsed to care about the opinions of monsters. And those who did care ablut such things? I couldn't muster half a fuck for rapists, either.

Let them keep their love for slaughter and torture. I hurt even when I didn't feel pain from the touch of divinity. I got shaken up. I...I followed the lead of the woman I loved, mostly.

It didn't matter. Before her, I could be weak. I didn't have to hide, or lie. As much as it shamed me to burden her with my worries(But human, my worse half smiled slyly, isn't that the point of love?), I...

I noticed the room had faded away, as had the bed, and my girlfriend. I rose to my feet-my position hadn't changed, so I'd found myself lying on my back, on the ground-, standing on what looked and felt like grey fog. Yet, despite how thin it was, I didn't part it with my weight. It was solid, somehow, for all that it felt wispy, nearly insubstantial.

I'd been in pajamas, but my clothes had changed. So, either I had been dragged into some sort of mental realm whose occupants could alter aspects of it, or I'd been attacked by some divinity, and this was a representation of my own mind.

A human would have probably thought they were dreaming first, but I couldn't, not without using my godsight to put myself to sleep.

And I was nowhere near comfortable enough to risk that, Mia in my arms or not.

A tired, expectant hum from behind drew my attention, and I focused my senses in its direction, turning me head to look upon finding nothing, but still hearing the hum. Just empty fog.

Another, more lively hum from in front of me made me turn my head again, to see myself staring back at me.

Or so he appeared at first glance.

He looked almost like me, but for three things. Same grey skin and short, messy hair, same white fangs, though his shone in a tight smile. The similarities stopped there.

His eyes were different, for one. Not white as milk, like mine, but inky-black, like mine used to be, before Chernobog had killed me, before...

No. They were not like my former eyes at all, either. They were a deeper black, with no light shining from within, like it had sometimes happened with mine. My sight, mundane and divine alike, was both drawn to and unable to focus on them.

He also had a beard. I'd briefly flirted with the idea in my late teens, but discarded it. I'd never needed help to appear older than I was. The beard-I could see he'd once had just a moustache, like I did-, as grey as his hair, was shorter than pops' or Mimir's(why that comparison?), only covering his chin.

Funny. I'd always thought I'd go for a chest-length beard if I decided to wear any.

Finally, his clothes were different. That might have seemed trivial, weird to notice compared to his weird eyes or even his beard, but it confirmed I wasn't looking at a mirror, not a literal, physical one, at least. I was dressed in my ARC uniform, while he wore a charcoal grey three-piece suit, with a lighter grey shirt and tie.

I almost laughed at the sight. Last time I'd tied anything around my neck, I'd expected to never do anything again after. I'd never been into formal clothes, ties in particular, even as a teacher, but he wore the suit like he'd been born in it. He seemed...comfortable. At ease.

One could say it suited him, if they were feeling funny. But the clothes brought a single word to mind: purpose.

Why would I be in uniform in whatever strange space this was? I hadn't been thinking about work before this shit had started. In fact, I'd tried not to think about ARC at all, and mostly failed, since briefly talking with Aya across the aether.

The mummy had asked for my report tomorrow, if I was able to deliver it, but had strongly suggested that I should go home and take some time off first, if only not to burn myself out. I'd been stressed lately, she'd said.

Strange signs. The Crypt Head and a senior agent telling me to relax? Maybe they wanted me to?

Nah, couldn't be it.

However, I couldn't deny ARC had dominated my thoughts in recent years. Was the organisation's mission statement being shown as a visual metaphor? I  was fighting to defend the world and bridge the gap between mundane and supernatural, after all.

He, on the other hand, reminded me of an undertaker.

Could've been worse. At least I couldn't pull off a lawyer or car salesman vibe.

It didn't take him long to notice me noticing him(always wanted to say that), which caused his smile to widen slightly, even if it became more strained.

Not visually. There was no sign of that. But I knew my own signs. Hands behind my back meant lecturing was soon to come or that I was trying to appear poised.

Let's hope it was the latter.

'Hi,' I broke the ice, stuffing my hand in my combat pants' pockets, trying to look as insouciant as possible.

'Hi myself,' he said, in a voice so eerily similar to mine I almost got angry. There was something off, though...not the voice itself, nor the accent; those were identical to mine.

It was like someone had overlaid my voice over something, something that should've been completely different, but had been warped so much there was little to no discordance.

Or had my voice been warped? It sounded like me speaking over something deafening and omnipresent, the kind of sound you feel in your bones rather than hear. In fact, the words almost distracted me from the way my body was shaking.

Or, rather, being shaken.

'Oh? Usually, I don't notice at this point...' He rubbed his chin with an index finger. 'Hmm...wait. It's weird talking to people who see time in single chunks and aren't Mia. Let me adjust...' Nothing I could notice happened, but he perked up, standing straighter, smile brightening a bit. 'Ah...only you two live here? I'm early.'

'Who the fuck are you, and why are you pretending to be me?' I asked, trying to walk closer. Nothing seemed to move, but, though I could tell I was crossing a distance, he was always several metres away from me.

'Nostalgia.' He smirked. 'Pretending not to be me doesn't work, David...' He took a look at my eyes, and his became sadder as he sucked in air through clenched fangs. 'That's new. Temporary, but still...last thousand iterations, Liam gave me his mana instead. Not that that lasts, either...'

'Liam...?' Liam Lloyd? The hell did that lich have to do with anything? We hadn't met since the Cold Madness. I narrowed my eyes at him. 'What are you talking about?'

'Those eyes weren't good for much, were they? Well, God's Mouth still doesn't open for  me, so we know that still stayed the same.' He glanced wryly to the side, as if the last words had been directed to someone I couldn't see. Then, he looked back at me. 'Have you checked in with Constantin, David?'

'No,' I said, uncomfortable. 'He texted me, said he's sorry he can't see me right now, but he needs to lie down after a tiring meeting. I didn't want to press him.'

***

I looked at myself. Constantin texting me about being too tired to meet? Really? At least I knew I'd never swallow that without a heavy duty glamour like the one I was hit with in this past.

Whose hand had cast it this time? Things always got muddled at this point...

Still, the past was the past. Some things couldn't be changed, not without sacrificing everything else.

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'Little me...still thinking you are being manipulated.' I smiled pityingly at myself, knowing how much I hated it, that it was sure to get my attention. 'This started because I hurt myself to end the pain, David. Everyone's pain. I'm talking about...everyone's. Bear the grudges, take the blame deserved-'

'I don't need some random doppelganger busting into my head to babble this at me,' he said threateningly, still trying to reach across the gap to affect me in any way, any way at all. I killed every attempt.

'Not my head-this is real.'

He scoffed. 'So real I can't even feel Mia anymore. I know damn well people hate me after the Headhunt. Piss off back to the mirror unfunny house and blow yourself.'

Damn, but I used to be easy to trigger, I thought, absentmindedly stroking the gold and silver ring I knew he couldn't see. Oh, David, you'll have eternity and more to worship your wife. There were few greater pleasures than giving in to love and submitting to the one you adore. Look at Emperor Gold, and how he treats the Songstress. Know they blame you as much as Mia does, but only she overlooks her disgust for sacrifice in duty's name in favour of love.

God's Mouth, now? Opposite problem. But what else could you expect from one whose spiritual mirror hated mankind more than most of Hell combined? I just hoped little Costi would grow up to be better than his namesake.

'Do not expect some grand revelation,' I said, walking past him. I still wished I could dispel the lie, but how could the sword be reforged into a plowshare without even a mould? Pure cruelty, that the forging had to-always, always had to-take place under my nose.

I still wished father had just died...

'I was here because I always am, at this moment,' I said as I departed, leaving him behind, to return to the world. The order had to be kept, even if I almost never remembered this until it was too late to do anything but curse.

'Really?' he called after me, voice dripping with bitter disdain as much as paranoid disbelief. He was expecting Chernobog in disguise, I knew. The Devil. Nyarlathotep. Any vile trickster, looking to hurt him and amuse themselves.

Not Yaldabaoth. I hadn't met it yet in this iteration, I knew. I was still blessedly hopeful.

At least I had Mia this time. Szabo's apprentices always made immoral Keepers, with either disastrous, short careers or painful, long ones. I had removed enough of them to know it was always torment for everyone involved.

As for her without me...zmei were many things. But inclined towards choosing healthy relationships in their youth? No.

Not to cast myself as the hero, of course. We had both saved each other.

'Really,' I replied, wishing I could do more to enlighten, or at least comfort myself. Ignorance was truly bliss, though. I couldn't rip away the veil that would soon have him dismiss this as a waking dream, the result of experimenting on himself with godsight to regain the ability to sleep.

And Mia...my Lady in Flames...

***

I always visited her at this point, in the iterations we were together. She was always, inevitably, resting or sleeping.

At first.

Mia pushed herself up to her elbows as I approached our bed. My younger counterpart was still staring at the ceiling, mouth opening and closing wordlessly. I'd have to thank Kricher for lending me his power once more, but there was no reason to gush or be overly grateful. He was worshipped by enough species, literally and metaphorically, that he wouldn't need his ego managed.

Besides, the guy never called me back until after my patience ran dry. One of the reasons I'd put "HE'S ALIIIIIVE!" as my ringtone for him, the other being how much it annoyed him.

Then, something new happened. Something I hadn't faced in previous cycles.

Or, it would have been new if I perceived time as anything other than the illusion it was. But it is hard to talk to linears without using tenses.

Nevertheless, this Mia and mine were superimposed over each other, body flickering and reality swirling as millennia of life crashed into her mind.

It felt almost strange to see her sleeping in her zmeu form. But then, there was no one she might have to get up to breastfeed in the middle of the night, and Mia had always seen her human body as a cosplay.

'Oh...it's that time again, isn't it?' Mia asked quietly, pushing my younger self's arm away and moving to sit on the end of the bed.

'It's as tiring for me as it is for you, baby.' I replied, moving this universe around me, to stand in front of her, taking in her body. Strange, indeed. So few scales riven by scars, with so dull a shine...

She still had abs, though. I knew she appreciated that as much as I did her nightie. Green suited her, even if the back was almost open, to make space for her wings, so there was only fabric under her tail, and there was nothing for the front to hide.

Well. Nothing I hadn't seen, at least.

Mia blew out a breath. 'Liar. Nothing is tiring to you.'

'You're welcome.' I dropped to a knee, crossing my arms over her thighs and smiling up at her. 'How does it feel to be young again?'

'Watch it.'

See how she asked the impossible of me? Watching something other than her was impossible at the best of times, let alone when the other options were the walls and my scarecrow of a body.

'As you command,' I whispered. 'We'll meet again soon, love. As soon,' I tried to keep the distaste from my voice. 'As you remind your newest fling our house is not a motel.'

'I couldn't leave them alone, David.'

'I'm not  blaming you. I'm just...' Fed up with other people in our home. That bastard better be grateful he even got to the couch. 'Annoyed. Long job.'

'And this century has you pent up more than usual.' She ran a hand through my hair.

'The first of many to come,' I said, taking her right hand and kissing her ring. Trying to avoid the subject always left me high-strung. It was one of those things that got harder with time.

Like myself. 'We'll make it.' Mia drew her hand back as I did the same, then crossed her arms over mine. 'Hatred keeps you going, if nothing else.'

'Spite,' I corrected her joke. Since my arrival, I had been using a sliver of my will to keep my counterpart from noticing and going to Constantin's house. Or, rather, helping to stop him. He probably wouldn't have made it anywhere he wanted as he was, but someone had to keep him from wrecking the country by moving around. Telekinesis slipped right off strigoi, like most supernatural powers, no matter how powerful. Killing the chances of that happening wouldn't do anything, either, for my kind had never known the lash of fate. Blunter methods had to be used, but my power could be turned from scalped to sledgehammer in an instant.

'Spite?' she asked, voice more serious. 'Have you given up on the desire to better yourself?'

'Same difference.' Because trying to show myself up was only to be expected, even if I always became like this. It was good I had gotten over the danger of withering. Like my tendency to try and save everyone, or try and save one life while knowing countless more would end if it was preserved.

On almost all such occasions, I had tried to change creation itself so that everyone could survive, an d always ended up tasting ashes. I had learned better, and this...this had to happen.

My younger self was too hotheaded to see my point, let alone accept it, so any attempt at persuasion was useless.

Sometimes, I wondered if I had started missing the trees for the forest, and if that was another, just as deadly, weakness as its opposite.

But Mia was still with me, so I must have been doing something right.

'Thank you,' I said, gently pushing her arms away and rising to my feet. I had been kneeling before her for millennia, and not just physically, but it still hurt to let go, even of this shadow of her. 'For staying by my side. I'm coming home, Mia.'

The last one to still love me...

***

I shook my head, trying to remove the strange pressure that pushed against my body. It resisted for a third of a picosecond before it gave, allowing me to rise out of bed. Behind me, I felt Mia sit up, then stretch and yawn.

'Hey...I dreamt of you, babe.' Her voice was nowhere near as light as it usually was in the morning. 'You creeped the fuck outta me, and I don't even think I remember everything. There's this gap, but I know it didn't end right then.' Mia rubbed her forehead-a human habit that helped her even less than it helped them. Zmeu minds had little to do with the brain. They couldn't be knocked out unless hit with powerful paranormal effects while off-guard, and even if the brain was completely destroyed, or even if the head was, consciousness would be preserved after regeneration. Attaching severed but intact or even damaged heads was just more convenient for zmei who didn't want to be 'wasteful'.

There was also the general paranoia about leaving body parts around for any mage to stumble upon.

'There was no gap in  my dream,' at least I thought so. 'But I creeped the hell out of myself, too. Also, I look shady as shit with a beard...'

I began telling her about my alleged alternate self, all the while trying to spot him with my godsight, wherever or whenever he was.