I woke feeling pleasantly cool. I'd thrown the heavy blankets off in my sleep. I glanced at the clock. 7:49. A terrible time. Too late to get back to sleep, too early to do anything worthwhile before logging into work.

I rolled out of bed, if you could call a mattress without a box spring or frame a bed, and staggered over to my desk. I shoved the mess of notebooks, pens, and controllers over to the right. I should really get a second desk. I had the money. All the popular science blogs were touting the benefits of a dedicated location for work these days. Stupid pandemic.

I popped the work laptop open, centering my face for the camera. Not Recognized. I tried twice more, before it forced me to enter my pin. Stupid temperamental camera.

Zero messages from coworkers. Not too surprisingly, half of them were west-coasters anyway. Two bullshit enterprise sales cold emails. I relegated the senders to spam. Excellent. I had time for breakfast and a shower. I probably had time anyway, but this job paid twice as much as anything I'd had before. I wasn't risking that over work life balance. Shit, the phrase barely meant anything these days.

I padded out of my bedroom, the hardwood floor surprisingly comfortable beneath my socks. Unusual, for late fall in Chicago. The insurance office downstairs must have been running their heater hard today.

The fridge was slim pickings. I wasn't feeling health conscious or hungry enough to force myself to eat oatmeal today. My eyes settled on the pepperoni. Saw the half finished block of bacon-gouda next to it. Cheese and crackers it was.

A knife from the block leapt to my hand. Idly, I twirled it, feeling it dance like a flame along the tips of my fingers. Odd. I wasn't usually so spry in the morning. Must be the warmth.

I put the blade to the block of cheese, pressing through. Deeper and deeper it slid, as I waited for a resistance that never came. A thin slice of cheese peeled itself off the blade of my knife. A knife now deeply embedded in the dark brown wood of the cutting board.

That was wrong.

"Those are not my hands." I murmured dreamily.

I didn't have scars on my fingers. My vision flickered, then wavered as if underwater. Wrong.

Images of those stupid videos of cakes made to look like everyday objects flashed into my head. There were only two other keys to this apartment. None of them belonged to people who were that good at baking. Or that dedicated to pranking.

Possessed by a queer madness, I pushed the knife harder. I felt a momentary resistance, as it bit into the concrete countertop.

This was wrong.

I dropped the knife, grabbing the board. I twisted it. Wood groaned, then splintered.

It was wood, not cake.

It was a lie. All of it. My chest felt tight. I wasn't breathing.

I ran down the hall, scrambling for the bathroom. I stumbled in, eyes glued to the floor. Whenever I went to the bathroom at night, I never looked in the mirror. There wasn't a reason for it. It just seemed obvious. Why would anyone sane stare into a mirror in a dark room?

Despite the gentle light of the morning, that same magnetism kept my eyes glued to the floor.

With a sudden jerk, I forced them up. Pressed my face so close to the mirror it filled my vision and fogged with my breath.

Another man's eyes stared back at me. A face as familiar as it was foreign.

"That is not my face." It didn't need to be said, but I said it anyway.

A section of the countertop snapped like a rice cracker under scarred fingers. The ice broke. I remembered who I was. Who I wasn't anymore. My breathing evened out. Calmly, I placed the broken shard of quartz in the bowl of the sink.

It’d been such a simple thing, the first part of my wager. Su Li’s trial had kept her level of cultivation constant, even as it’d changed her memories. But a nascent soul cultivation base wasn’t exactly compatible with my memories of the Chicago apartment. Or anywhere else I'd lived, for that matter.

Part of me had hoped I might see some of Hu Xin's memories. It would have been far more dangerous, but the dissonance between who others had expected me to be and who I was might still have jarred me out of the illusion. Still, this was going well so far.

I stepped back out into the main living space of my apartment. It was in many ways unfinished. A very stereotypical bachelor pad. I had a bad habit of never really settling into a place. I'd moved a lot as a child, and hadn't ever really stopped as an adult. I'd served at two bases during my three years of service, not counting basic. Moved twice during college, finding cheaper places to pocket more of my housing allowance. Four more times after that, chasing money and running from places I never felt I fit. Chasing and running from girls a little too, if I was being honest. I still cringed a little, at the thought that my entire time as a paramedic was downstream of wanting to spend a little more time with a particular girl.

The Chicago apartment had been the first place I owned. It'd been a shithole when I bought it. The last tenant had done nothing when the roof began to leak. Allowed water to pool for months, letting sections of the living room rot down to the subfloor. The landlord had been happy to wash his hands of the place.

I'd contracted out the roof for a painful amount of money. Done new flooring myself, still for a painful amount of money. And then I'd stopped. Never really furnished it, beyond the things I already had, and the essentials of life, like a new waffle maker.

I suppose at first I had just been comfortable. Sparse was how I'd lived for twenty years. And then I'd expected that we'd do it together, when She moved in.

Even here, I didn't want to think the names. It was easier to forget, when I didn't use them.

I stopped by the mini fridge, grabbing a soda. Check the freezer, found vanilla ice cream. No sense watching my figure in a dream after all.

I sat down on the couch, an olive green hand-me-down, and sipped on my Dr Pepper float. God I'd missed that taste. Time for phase two of my wager. Any mind capable of telling a story, however much it borrowed from it's audience, had to be capable of speaking. The question was, did it consider me worth talking to?

“Despite my apparent affiliations, I don’t need to be your enemy." I said aloud. "You should see that now."

I felt slightly foolish, when there was no response. Still, I would persevere. If I was wrong, acting like a fool would cost nothing.

I wondered what shape this story would take, if I let it play out. Would I step out for groceries and wander into a corrupt alderman trying to evict some poor old lady? It was an idle question, one way or another, I was going to derail this train.

I grabbed the knife from the counter.

"I would like to speak to a manager." I said, brandishing it.

When I'd first tried to enter the trial, it had rejected me. The ethereal painting done in hues of light smooth as glass beneath my fingers.

I'd simply cut my way in. The painting had shuddered and flickered, but it'd let me in eventually.

I released my qi, spreading my aura through the apartment. I could feel the false world around me straining against my influence.

It was clear to me now that these trials weren't meant for nascent soul cultivators. However they worked, they simply weren't built sturdily enough to handle one of us when we got rowdy.

I set the knife to the wall. As my intent flowed into it, I felt it become more real than anything else in the apartment, as if stabilized by my intent. Interesting. Slowly, I began to peel back the skin of the illusion.

Instead of sunlight, milky white moonlight spilled out from the gash in my wall. Ghostly symbols pulsed beneath. The ragged edges of the cut danced to an invisible wind. I sat sipping my float, staring at the wound in the world. Slowly, it's edges stabilized. I felt something press against my qi. Another presence.

I smiled.

"Hello."

My casual greeting echoed in the deafening silence. The usual noises of the Chicago morning had disappeared at some point. I turned to the window, and saw the skyline blurring and fading, overwhelmed by the same smooth light.

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My heart beat faster and my throat tightened, as the outside world was slowly washed away. I continued speaking. This was the plan. If it failed, I would cut my way back to reality.

"I'd hoped to speak with you. It should be apparent now, that despite my apparent affiliation, I am not who I appear to be. The Pathless Night came to plunder this place. But you and I need not be enemies." The words were awkward, stilted. I should have rehearsed them.

Down the hall, a door opened. A woman stepped out.

Dull blonde hair. A grey-pink sweater hanging off one shoulder. A face so achingly familiar. But her eyes were wrong. Bone white orbs like marbles, instead of the sea-glass green that haunted my memories.

I swung the knife faster than I could think. How dare it impersonate Her. It was wrong, so wrong that I Cut it out of the world.

As the steel passed, there was nothing. No wound. No trace. No Her.

“If you show me that face again, I will make it my purpose to end you." I spat through gritted teeth. I breathed out. Ah, shit. That had not been the tact I'd been planning to open negotiations with. I scrambled to think of something to recover with. "It's nothing personal. But I've lost enough, without you rubbing my face in it."

I waited, rage and frustration warring within me. Perhaps I should just lean into it. Emphasize the loneliness and instability and hope it underestimated me.

A few moments later, another woman walked out of the storage room. Meng Daiyu, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, with those same eyes of white marble.

Interesting. It'd skipped Su Li. Had it chosen Meng Daiyu for her beauty? Or because it wanted to entirely avoid anything that might trigger strong emotions? Two female faces was also a data point. I still wasn't sure whether I would be talking to an intelligent formation, something like the Sectmaster's jade slip, or a true person. A gender preference suggested a person, but was it not using it's own face because it could only use ones I'd seen within the formation, or because it didn't have one?

"Thank you."

Slowly, almost stiffly, the woman who was not Meng Daiyu walked across the room. I was tempted to offer her a drink, but she wasn't real, and this wasn't that sort of conversation.

She sat down on the beanbag across from my couch, her back so straight it was clear she didn't understand the point of a beanbag.

We stared at each other for a moment.

"Who are you?" She asked.

"I suppose you could say I'm a stranger in a strange land. But for now, you can call me Hu Xin. Who are you?" I returned the question.

"I suppose you could say I am the ghost of a dead dream. But for now, you can call me Meng Daiyu." She echoed.

I smiled despite myself. This had already been worth it, even if we couldn't come to an accord. There was a person, behind this colossal formation.

"Are we going to have this entire conversation in riddle and metaphor?"

"I merely returned what you offered."

I tapped my fingers against the fabric, feeling where my old cat Sekhmet, god rest his soul, had torn the hell out of my couch. Was it worth making a leap of faith?

"What is it, that you seek here?" The woman who was not Meng Daiyu asked.

"Meng Daiyu took one of your trials. Do you remember her master?" I answered her question with another.

"I do." She smiled back at me. Those bone white eyes really were a little unnerving.

"I suspect, that he would not allow me to retire from my duties."

"Meng Daiyu's memories do not contradict these suppositions. Meng Xiao claims a grand authority, one that would be difficult to escape as you are."

She did not have to be honest. That would be a very convenient thing to say to back me into a corner. All she'd truly shown, is that she knew the Sectmaster's name. But it was another data point.

"I want peace. Safety. A little farm in the middle of nowhere, and the means to conceal it. A way out from under Meng Xiao's thumb, without trading one master for another."

The woman across from me leaned back into her beanbag. Slowly, her movements were becoming less stiff. I was leaning towards a person, now. There was no reason for a formation capable of orchestrating these trials to need a few moments to adjust to a body. Was she a ghost of some sort? She'd all but called herself as much earlier. A ghost of a dead dream.

"I see."

"What is it then, that you want?" I asked. The greatest thing I'd learned thus far was simply that there was a mind behind this formation. The mind wearing Meng Daiyu's face had offered so very little in the way of actual facts thus far.

"It is a curious world that exists in your memories. I wonder what my mistress would have thought of it. It is not her dream, the order she sought. But perhaps it rhymes, tarnished as it is. I will repay faith with faith. My sect and era are gone, and my mistress with them. And yet, I linger still. And I do not wish to fade."

She turned to the window. The light was closer now, brighter. Even the adjoining street had been consumed by it. My little apartment was all that was left of the world. I turned, and saw the gash I'd made was steadily growing. It reached into the kitchen now, bleeding alabaster light.

"We two are too heavy a presence for this lesser dreaming chamber. Soon, the dream will break. Do not seek another lesser chamber, save at gravest need. I will unbar your path. Seek me out, in the center of the sanctuary. Seek the terminals within the inner sect, to speak with me further. Protect the wayward daughters that strive towards our mistress's legacy. I am blind to much of the world beyond these walls. But if Meng Xiao is considered mighty in these dim days, restored to my former strength, I would be without peer. Help me, and break your chains."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the world broke. It was sudden, impossibly fast. One moment I sat on the couch, the next I stood before the three trials. The knife my parents had bought so long ago replaced by Hu Xin's sword.

The Company Of Moonlight was broken. An inky slash marring the moon where I'd cut my way in. When I'd entered, the room had been near empty. Only a few disciples loitering, working up the courage to attempt one of the trials.

"He's back!"

"That was fast."

"Elder Hu!"

I turned, recognizing the last voice. Apparently someone had grabbed her.

"Were you worried for me, Elder Cai?" I asked, a hint of amusement in my voice.

"You expressed no previous interest in the trials. I came to see what changed your mind. I remained to monitor the way the damage you did to the structure of the formation progressed."

"How long was I in there?"

"Mere minutes. Far shorter than any victor to date."

I nodded. That tracked. Su Li had mentioned a full day of subjective time. I couldn't have had more than fifteen minutes.

"Did you discover anything interesting watching from the outside?" I asked.

"No. I confirmed my strongly held suspicion that individual trials are sub-formations linked to the whole. Even destroying all of them would likely not damage the primary formation in any appreciable way."

I hummed noncommittally. That was interesting, but I was trying to catalogue everything I'd learned and suspected. I'd call her the Ghost Immortal, for now. She'd all but claimed to be as much. I knew nothing about the mechanics of an immortal lingering after death, but she seemed certain there was a path forward for her. Possession?

She'd confirmed that this was a sect, or implied as much.

It would be beyond foolish to take everything she'd said at face value. But just knowing she existed gave me a huge edge. I'd have to probe the Glass Flowers, see if she was actually what they were willing to risk everything for. If she really was a true immortal, the moment she was released, their sect would effectively become regional hegemons. They'd also be as much at her mercy as everyone else.

And yet, revealing herself to me at all suggested her position wasn't as strong as it appeared. She needed something she couldn't get herself.

But that still left the question of what exactly was this complex. She'd called it both a sanctuary, and referenced an inner sect. It didn't strike me as intended to be a tomb, regardless of the immortal at the center. There were too many rooms, thrones, gardens, and other details. Had the Ghost Immortal squatted in the remains of a sect? Or was she the only survivor of it?

“What was the challenge?” Elder Cai asked, interrupting my thoughts. "You seem to have broken it, but I'm curious what it subjected you to."

“I'm not actually certain. I took an unconventional path to the end of the trial. Cut right to the heart of the matter, so to speak.” I joked.

“You succeeded then?”

“I did not lose." I paused, considering how much to say. "There was no reward, I did not clear the trial in the way it's creator intended. But I'm fairly certain that I've acquired the permissions needed to move deeper into the complex.”

"That's quite vague."

"Even a straight-forward sword cultivator like me has a few secrets." I said. "Even if you knew exactly what I did, you would not be able to replicate it." I looked at the painting. "Even if the trial were not broken. I wouldn't recommend attempting it in this state."

Elder Cai gave me a flat look.

"I am not suicidal."

"I didn't think you were. That was more for the benefit of the disciples."

Elder Cai snorted. It was not a particularly dignified sound.

The two of us fell into step, walking out of the trial chamber.

"Meng Daiyu called a meeting. She wants to move deeper in." Elder Cai said.

"I suppose I should join her. I would be a poor dao protector if I let her wander deeper unattended."

"Is that why you attempted the trial? I assumed you'd just remind the Glass Flowers we'd massacre them if she was injured."

"No." I said slowly. "I had an idea, and I wished to test it."

Elder Cai nodded solemnly. I suspected she'd done far more dangerous things for similar reasons.

"Oh," I continued. "I'm fairly certain those spiritual organs the trials reward are unrelated to the formation's access permissions."

She smiled.

"I suspected as much the moment I heard the young mistress and the other outer disciple received other rewards. I'm still confident in this approach. The way the qi flows, there must be something in the process of identification I can falsify. Give me another day or two, and I'm certain Elder Su and I will be able to progress further as well."

The two of us lapsed into a companionable silence as she led me to the room where the other elders waited. I still wasn't sure how I felt about Elder Cai. I knew she wasn't a good person, and she'd tried to electrocute my disciple. But there was something endearing about her forthrightness. I would be a little sad, if I had to kill her.

Not that it would stop me. I'd never intentionally killed before, in my forty-odd years on these two worlds, but I didn't think I would be the sort to hesitate. The sort to cry after, or struggle to sleep, perhaps. I'd witnessed enough death, even contributed to some of them; patients I'd failed, guilty and innocent alike I'd distantly helped bomb. No, my hand might tremble, if the moment came.

But it would not falter.

One day, I would put this sword up on a mantle. Probably not a mantle in an actual farmhouse. I liked having a garden, but I was under no illusions about subsistence farming being some idyllic paradise. God, now that I thought about it, I had no idea what I would even do if I were free to choose. Open a restaurant in some city? Carve Buddha statues with my vorpal blade? Reinvent semiconductors? None of those really felt like me.

Well, I could cross that bridge when I got to it. How bad could unemployment really be, when one didn't need to eat? Until then, I would do whatever I had to, to get out from under the sect's thumb. Whether that was sell my soul to a master I could tolerate, or swallow my feelings and work to reform the Pathless Night from within to something I could live with.

But I had a sinking suspicion I would not leave this temple with clean hands. Too many hungry eyes were circling a prize that could not be shared, waiting for another to make the first move. One way or another, I would soon need to make a bloody choice, and live with it.