"Come now, Wanderer. You're being a bit unreasonable, don't you think?" My arms tensed, pushing against the vigilante's blade. The solid wall of steel wouldn't budge. Million Eyes, how is he holding me off?

"You have stolen a Mauler's abilities. Fascinating." He shifted his stance, making a motion with his wrist and flicking my claws off his blade as if it were nothing. "Though not quite as physically overbearing."

I shook my head gently, laughing at his utter confidence. "Do you really intend to die over some worthless human blood?" Blood that is yours to consume, Ferrowill.

"Listen to yourself, Thief. Your mind is not your own."

"Quiet! Don't you understand what's going on? There is no worth in this terrified crowd."

"Those claws bring about a Mauler's lust for blood, it is not your own."

His words sparked a flaring rage, and I lunged at him again, clapping my claws from both sides at once. His sword flashed and appeared in between my palms. My quick motion only shoved the blade into my own hand. Then, in a flurry of impossible movements, the pole blade spun around, ignoring the floor as if it didn't exist, and slicing the sharp ends of my claws off.

I watched, blankly, at the missing tips of my hands. There was no pain. The crowd is escaping. Don't you want to eat? Aren't you hungry? Starving? Don't they look absolutely delectable? They do. Because they exist to fill your stomach. They exist as fuel. If only you had another human to drink, you would easily surpass this foolish swordsman.

"What's the matter, Thief? Caught in thought? You know I tell the truth," he said, pointing his blade to my face. "It angers you, does it not?"

You are angry. And hungry. Why not eat the man? Consume him. His power must come from somewhere, and if you eat him, it will be yours to harness. Yes, that's right.

I flexed my arms with a fresh determination, and another pair of claws appeared from the sliced stubs. I sprinted and sprung above the vigilante's tall blade. But before my claws could crash down onto his head, he fell to the side and shifted his waist. His wrist jutted out and the long blade careened through my arms, slicing not only the shadowed appendages that grew from me, but both of my own real limbs. By of my forearms landed to the ground behind a trail of blood in the air. I tumbled after them, wincing and blinking reflexive tears from my eyes. Repair stopped the bleeding, but my severed limbs still had flown a few paces away, and with the exhaustion, I was in no rush to sprint over for a second Repair.

My surroundings were blurry, and the vigilante wanderer stepped closer from behind. What's your problem? Why haven't you eaten him yet? All you have to do is consume the man and gain his power. Grow. Further. Stronger. Use this as new fuel to devour the hordes of blood escaping as we—

"I wonder, can you hear the voice inside your head?" he asked.

The voice? I'm not a voice, I'm you. Don't you understand? Wait, I'm not you. Yes I am, I am your own voice speaking to you in your head, this happens all the time. No, you're not. I speak of myself as I am now, you refer to me as another. The man is right. You are not me. YES I AM. He knows NOTHING OF US! Do not listen to that worthless chunk of meat—

The smooth blade landed next to my face. The vigilante in a blue-accented robe stood above me, leaning on the steel, bending it into a curve. "Thief, do not think. Look at me."

Do not think? Don't listen to this—"Do not think," I repeated, focusing on his eyes. Each time my sight darted to the cut on his cheek, his glare grew more intense, catching my attention.

"Listen to me, Thief. You need not obey this voice. It is the Mauler's Nature within you that is trying to guide your actions."

Guide your actions? He knows nothing! You are Death. You ARE control. Quit listening to—"The Mauler's Nature?"

"Nightmares also hold a Nature within them. Tell me, Thief. What is yours? It may be hard to remember, you must try."

"My Nature? I… don't know." The words in my head blabbered endlessly, but I gave them little enough attention that they held no meaning. I shook my head. "No, that's not true. I haven't awoken my Nature yet."

The vigilante's eyes widened and he backed up a couple of steps. "You're new?"

You are not new! He's insulting you, listen to him! "SHUT UP!" I screamed, panting heavily. My armless body shifting on the floor. "I am. I am very new."

He buried his head in his hands. "Do Names explain nothing to each other?"

Now! He's not looking! DEVOUR him. Are you listening to—"Not only a Mauler," I said. "Something else speaks in my mind. It was there before the first two awakenings. It was angry and craved murder."

The wanderer looked at me with a new layer of confusion, his eyes suddenly scanning my outfit. They stopped on each pouch, then, they settled on the flat sheathe at my thigh, normally hidden. "Are you an assassin?" he asked.

Stolen story; please report.

"What? No, I'm travelling to the Skypiercer tree—"

"Not that. You say you're new. Before The Realm, were you an assassin? Did you carry that with you, into The Realm of Dreams?"

I was an assassin, for a time. And you still are! Now do your duty and KILL THIS MAN. Why would I kill him? Because the blood bags are all gone. Chase them down. Kill him and find them. "I don't—" The conflicting thoughts within me rattled like shutters in the midst of a vicious storm. "Then… is it my Nature? I brought it with me?"

The vigilante paced. "It isn't so simple. It influences your Nature. As do I, as do the Dreams, as do the villagers, and the Nightmares, and the Seers, and anyone and anything you come across in The Realm."

"Anyone and anything? Would The Dream Eater influence—" I stopped myself when the wandering vigilante went still. "What? What is it?"

"You have been poisoned," he said. "You will need to overcome your corrupt Nature and reconstruct a new one. I can guide you through a process that will help, but it is not always pleasant."

He isn't making any sense. That's because he's trying to confuse you, don't fall for it. Isn't he helping? No. You can't trust this man, same as the others. Surreal was afraid of you, the robed men who brought you here betrayed you, everyone in The Realm is against you. Don't trust a word they say. "How can I trust you?"

He paused, and his eyes wandered.

Before he was able to speak, the faint desire to lick the cut on his cheek resurfaced. And it gave me an idea. "I have a proposition. I will do as you say, without question. Afterwards, you'll provide me one favor. You will allow me to drink your blood, do you understand?" Oh? That's a wonderful proposition. Well done, Ferrowill.

"What? No that's—" And then, the wanderer stopped. In a gradual shift, his eyes and his smile grew wide. "Genius. I mean—the idea. The proposition, it's genius. I accept. And I promise you my blood. As much as you wish for."

"Then, what is this process to overcome my Nature?"

He looked at me more closely. And his brow furrowed at the sight of my severed arms behind me. "Did I do that?" he asked.

"What? Oh, yes. Do I need arms for this process?"

He blinked a few times and nodded reluctantly. I reattached my arms with a painfully draining Repair and another plea from the corrupt Nature to attack the vigilante wanderer while his guard was down. I did not.

"Hold this," he said, handing me a piece of stone debris. "It will serve to ground you while you are away."

"Away?"

"Only your mind. You must return to the places your mind has been and reverse the effects they've had on you and your Nature. We will begin with The One Who Lives in Darkness. What do you remember of him?"

"The Dream Eater?"

He nodded.

"I remember—"

"Close your eyes."

I did as he said, and thought back to my time with that simple-looking older man. And the terrifying amalgam that took Keeper's eye. And the one who I was fighting to usurp, though I still felt a little reluctant of that goal. I explained the encounter to the vigilante, with my eyes closed. He made not a single sound until I finished.

"There is a pane of glass with which you recall this memory," he said. "Can you feel the way it shapes your words? Tell me again the details of what happened, but this time pay close attention to the glass you tell it through. Focus on the rough stone in your hand, allow it to remind you where you are. Allow it to ground you."

Again, I did as he said, recalling the events once more, only this time, I used fewer words. I had already covered the details I found important, alongside the memory, and so—Oh. The details. The details I choose to tell are the glass he speaks of.

I finished the story, only now with even less detail. If I described what was in the room, I included everything, if I omitted a description of The Dream Eater, I omitted one of Keeper as well. I gave the memory as a list of facts, rather than an experience. And as I did, the memory itself seemed to belong less to me, and more to the world. It was as if my mind became one with The Realm. We agreed on what had happened and the rubble in my hands remained at the corner of my mind the entire time.

The wanderer guided me through more memories, and slowly we dissected them, until they rested without their flourishes or rough edges. They sat clearly within me, like the pebbles at the bottom of a freshwater spring.

As I began to unravel a tale of the first encounter with my mentor, a loud crash rumbled the floor below me.

"Do not open your eyes," he said. "Continue, I am listening."

"I was sad. It was night. They came from nowhere and offered me bread. I took the food because I was—"

Another loud crash. Dust and stones hit against my face. I flinched and paused in my story, but soon resumed, fighting against the rising beat of my heart to speak as dull and true as possible. I found my voice getting louder, frantic steps and the reverberant ringing of the vigilante's blade broke the silence. More scuffs and noises sounded out, and a deadly wind flashed on either side of my head, stiffening my body. If I were to tell this moment as a story, I would surely tell it imbued with panic.

"CONTINUE!" the vigilante yelled, from further away this time, and I did as he said. I spoke with more volume, projecting my voice so he would hear it wherever he might stand.

I rushed through the end of the memory and simplified the words from my mentor, all the way down to "—wanted me to be safe and offered to teach me." And even though I remembered the exact words that were spoken, I dared not trust a memory so potent.

"Done!"

"Great! Now let's get out of here."

My eyes blinked open to find the wandering vigilante's blade swinging through the air. It plunged into a robed figure and sliced it in half. From within, a woman disintegrated from the cut into a drifting snowfall of shimmering dust. On the floor, piles of the stuff coated it white.

I fought my way over to him, pushing against the exhaustion that kept my limbs heavy and slow.

"That was the last one, for now. If we follow where they came from, we can—"

My hand grasped his face, interrupting him, and I planted my tongue against the long red cut of his cheek. The metallic liquid overpowered my sense of taste, and I wiped as much of it off my tongue as I could manage. Then, I smirked. "Wonderfully disgusting. Thank you, I wanted to get that over with."