Dave found himself sitting in Sherlock's office, the familiar space still very infected with otherness. The walls seemed to pulse with shadowy veins. Bits and pieces of the Voidtree seemed to be blooming above them, branches reaching out from a cracked wall and forming a creepy overhang made from two-dimensional leaves.

Healy, still afflicted with a multitude of blue Shadow-eyes, manifested on the metal desk covered in dark, multi-dimensional cracks.

[Strange space detected! New observation zone! Analyzing! New Enemy?!] Shadow-blades sprouted across Healy-Cedez, pointed at Sherlock.

“No,” Sherlock’s voice became entwined with that of many female voices, his eyes igniting with blue from within. Myriads of blue, brilliant eyes sprouted in deep, dark cracks along his face, along the desk and along the walls, staring at Healy. “I am the greater Shadow of this domain. Submit for I am your Elder Beast, fusion of many, Song of the Multitude.”

Healy's shadow blades retracted immediately as the Kitlix curled into a submissive ball. [Elder! Greater fusion! My Apologies! This one obeys!]

"Good," Sherlock's fractured form replied, blue eyes dancing across the cracks in reality. "Report your observations of the meat things."

[Meat things display weakness! Inferior motion, easy to cut down from behind! Press together but do not merge! Change colors! Make sounds! Rest during active hours!] Shadow-Cedez reported eagerly through Healy.

"Continue monitoring them for weaknesses," Sherlock commanded. "Record all behaviors for analysis to later report directly to me. Understood?”

[Yes, Greater-Fusion-Elder! Will study meat things! Important mission from Mother!] Healy almost saluted.

“Remain here as the smallest fraction if I require you, but focus your attention entirely on the sleeping meat,” Sherlock ordered. “Absorb some of her flaking metal scales for study too. Understood?”

[Understood!] Healy became a frozen statue, the eyes vanishing away. Only a single blue eye remained on the Kitlix staring at nothing.

The blue eyes vanished from Sherlock’s face, fading into darkness. The detective turned to Dave.

"That was... impressive," Dave commented, stretching in his chair. "You can imitate a Shadow Elder-whatever?"

"There are advantages to being fragmented by multiple personalities," Sherlock replied, straightening his suit. "Thanks to your absorption of various Shadow fragments, I could temporarily manifest as a fusion of many. Those eyes belonged to the Huntsmaws and the Princesses. It seemed the most rationally effective way to establish dominance over our... guest."

"Good thinking," Dave nodded. "Though I'm a bit worried about how easily she took control of Healy."

“This is what Shadows do,” Sherlock explained. “They can fuse together to defeat greater enemies. It is natural to them just as analytical thinking is to me.”

“Could she reach out to the Leviathan this way?” Dave asked with a concerned look.

“I don’t think so,” Sherlock shook his head. “Healy doesn’t have anywhere near enough Shadow in her for that as she’s still mostly Vitalix Kitlix. Whatever orders the Leviathan projects are being blocked by the crystalline body of the Kitlix and the extradimensional bubble.”

“She made Shadow blades on Healy,” Dave pointed out.

"Those weren't actually Shadow blades," Sherlock corrected, pulling out his violin. "More like... crystalline protrusions shaped like Shadow blades. The Shadow essence within Healy was trying to replicate its natural weapons, but could only manage an approximation using the Kitlix's crystalline structure. Rather like how a child might build a sword out of wooden blocks - it looks similar, but lacks the fundamental properties of the real thing."

"So she couldn’t actually hurt us with those?" Dave asked, blushing ever so slightly at making Remicra do so many embarrassing things.

"Oh, they could certainly cause injury - crystal is quite sharp after all," Sherlock made the crack-covered violin produce a note, wincing as it sounded wrong to his ears. “The crystal blades wouldn't be able to cut through solid walls nor connect to the Leviathan's power.”

"That's... reassuring," Dave rubbed the throbbing, dark cracks in his hands. "Though I'm still worried about what might happen if Shadow-Cedez gets bored of studying Remicra.”

"Hence why I ordered her to focus entirely on this job," Sherlock smiled. "Shadows are quite hierarchical - they'll follow orders from what they perceive as a greater shadow entity. By giving her a specific task and establishing dominance, we've provided structure to contain her more... destructive impulses."

"Like keeping a predator occupied with a toy instead of letting it hunt," Dave mused.

"Precisely," Sherlock nodded. "Though in this case, our 'toy' is a sleeping dragoness who changes colors."

"Speaking of Remicra..." Dave began.

"Ah yes, your growing attachment to the Pathosteel dragon," Sherlock's green eyes twinkled with amusement. "Quite fascinating how your souls resonate."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your souls appear to have a natural or perhaps unnatural compatibility," Sherlock explained. "Like two pieces of code that could seamlessly integrate. It's likely why Shadow-Cedez talked about fusion - she can sense the potential for deep connection between you, even if she doesn't understand it."

“Unnaturally?”

“Arx is a mind-bogglingly large, physically impossible megastructure created by an unknown architect. The connection between you and Remicra was likewise potentially architected by someone.”

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“Why?”

“Unknown,” Sherlock put the violin onto the table.

“Right,” Dave nodded. “There’s something there. Something really deep between me and Remy.”

"Yes. Sort of like… the Observer Causality Effect in quantum mechanics," Sherlock nodded. "The act of observing a quantum system changes its behavior. Your Phantomancy allows you to observe souls at a fundamental level. Except, when you look at Remicra with Healy's sight, you're not just seeing her - you're interacting with her soul structure.”

“Uh-huh,” Dave thought about Remicra’s warmth.

"You were supposedly summoned to Shandria multiple times,” Sherlock speculated. “Each time, there was a system in place to guide you - Lari's Cantigeist and its Maidenlynes. Now we find a dragoness whose soul perfectly resonates with yours. This feels less like coincidence and more like... some kind of engineering."

“What about Cedez?” Dave contemplated.

“Cedez is a fraction of an incredibly damaged, fractured soul, a hollow shell filled with Shadowmancy and greatly modified by Necromancer Kells,” Sherlock said. “Who, if Saint Saria’s Cantigeist is to be believed, is….”

"Another me," Dave frowned. "Who went insane, failed to take over Shandria and killed Princess Astrix Nixlix. What do you make of that, Sherlock?"

The detective's cracked form leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "The implications are... troubling. If what Saint Saria claims is true, there have been multiple iterations of you, each summoned to Shandria, each ultimately succumbing to madness inflicted by their skill."

"But why? I only died twice! There should only be me and Kells at most! Why the hell would there be… others?”

“Insufficient data for a meaningful answer,” Sherlock shrugged, quoting a passage from Dave’s favorite book by Isaac Asimov. “Perhaps the other Daves that the Dragon God Emperor summoned simply came from other, alternative Earths? Perhaps on some other Earth, you fell off a bike, or slipped in a bath, or ate too many burgers and encountered a heart attack, or perished at a ripe old age?”

“Shit,” Dave rubbed his face. “That’s a lot of Daves then. Do you think that…”

“Lari’s Cantigeist is working hard to ‘help nearest Dave Walter get to Shandria’ and then once you’re here, it tries hard to ‘protect Dave’ through its Maidenlynes,” Sherlock nodded. “But it isn’t Lari. Whatever takes over Terri is just a blurry fraction of your best friend, an algorithm that’s been left running for two hundred years after her death.”

“Yeah,” Dav sighed. “It wanted to erase Cedez to protect me.”

"Indeed. The Cantigeist seems to have been poorly made or decayed to the point where it’s become overly focused on a single directive–your protection," Sherlock observed. "It's lost sight of the broader implications, the human element. Rather like a computer program that achieves its goal through unintended methods because it wasn't properly constrained. Instrumental convergence.”

Dave nodded.

"The question is," Sherlock leaned forward. "What exactly drove the previous Daves insane? Was it simply the overwhelming nature of consuming souls, or was there something else at work? Some other external force pushing them toward madness?"

“We do have a solution to the madness,” Dave pointed out. “Just put excessive souls into Healy.”

"Yes," Sherlock nodded. "Healy serves as an excellent external storage device for the more... problematic aspects of absorbed souls. Though I wonder if there might be unexpected consequences to this arrangement."

"Like what?" Dave asked.

"Consider what happened tonight," Sherlock gestured at the frozen, single-eyed Healy. "The Shadowmancy essence we stored in her partially took control. What if other aspects of the souls stored within her begin to manifest in similar ways? Consider what happens when Healy splits?”

“Oh,” Dave blinked. “Is she going to… split tonight then? Shit. Is that going to collapse the extradimensional space?!”

“She’s absorbing high Aetheric density spilling out from Leviathan Nightingale right now,” Sherlock nodded. “She will likely split by the end of the night.”

“Into… how many Kitlix?”

“Unknown. I am monitoring the situation, readjusting the crystalline structure best I can, holding her together,” Sherlock assured. “Whatever happens I’m going to make sure that the extradimensional space remains uncompromised. Hopefully, I can hold her together until the moment when Nightningale goes back into the cloud. That way, you can pull Cedez out of there right before Healy splits.”

“Do you want me to…?” Dave offered.

“No. Don’t take my job away David,” Sherlock smiled. “Managing her crystalline latticework from within is quite the challenge, but it is one that’s fitting my particular set of skills. I am to improve the final results by introducing extra elements to it.”

“Then what should I…?” Dave asked.

“Go over your memories of self. Remember everything there is to remember about Dave. Meditate on who you are and what your goals and dreams are. Maybe it’ll help clear up some of the mess inside you,” Sherlock waved at the sheared, extradimensional cracks covering the office. “Reinforce your sense of self as much as you are able. Start with your earliest, strongest memory.”

“I… ugh,” Dave said. “My first memory isn’t that… great.”

“It still makes up who you are, David,” Sherlock said. “Go over it again, even if it's painful, it’s who you are. You’re not a Void Archmage. You’re not me. You’re not a Shandrian ex-princess. You need to do this to fight the fragmentation.”

“Fine,” Dave sighed.

He closed his eyes and let his mind drift back through the years, sifting through the tangled web of memories until he reached his earliest recollection.

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

He was sitting cross-legged on a brown shag 80’s carpet. His parents' voices rose and fell in the kitchen, sharp and angry. The TV was showing Sesame Street, an episode he’s already seen.

"You spent HOW much on these... these THINGS?!" His father's voice thundered.

"They're educational toys! The doctor said—" his mother tried to explain.

"I don't care what some quack said! We can barely pay the bills as it is with you putting all this crap on my VISA!"

Young Dave turned the dial. A talking man. Boring. Dancing. Boring. He turned the dial again, until there were no channels left and stared intently at the TV static, trying to find patterns in the dancing black and white dots. He'd discovered that if he focused hard enough, he could almost see shapes emerging from the chaos - dragons soaring through storm clouds, castles floating in the sky, entire worlds hidden in the noise.

Endlessness. Another place, another time. Anywhere but here.

"He needs structure! Activities! The therapist said—"

"More doctors! More bills! He just needs discipline!"

“Michael, he’s your son, you never spend time with him!”

This is when his Dad started to swear after finding another thing his Mom bought.

“Yes, because I’m working two effin’ jobs while you stay home and buy useless, ugly shit filling every God-damned shelf to the brim! What the hell is this?! When are you going to stop buying shit, Rachel?!”

“It’s a collectible plate set that…”

Dave reached a small, chubby hand turned up the volume, letting the white noise wash over him, blocking out the screams of their parents and the sound of smashing glass plates that his Dad threw against the wall. He’s asked his parents not to fight, but they just ignored him.

In the static, he imagined he could see a friendly violet-gold eyed crystalline dragon, curled protectively around him, its scales shifting colors like a kaleidoscope.

Like the magic ring he’s seen on the TV ad. The dragon would protect him from the shouting, from the anger, from everything that was too loud and too bright and too much.