It began not with a scream, but with a whisper.
A soft laugh. One that slithered beneath the skin, creeping along the edges of her consciousness. Isari first heard it after a victorious raid on a goblin nest, when the adrenaline had begun to fade and the quiet of dusk settled over her blood-slicked blade. A laugh that wasn't hers. Not from her companions. It came from nowhere… and yet, it stayed.
"Did you enjoy it?" the voice said one evening as she stared into her fire.
She leapt to her feet, sword drawn, eyes scanning the trees.
No one was there.
"Do you remember the way that last one begged?"
Her eyes flickered. Her thoughts were no longer her own. That night, she didn't sleep.
Days passed. The voice persisted. She stopped responding to her companions, kept to herself during meals, fought harder, fiercer. More cruelly. They noticed, of course. They whispered behind her back. But none dared confront her—not when her eyes had started to resemble those of something inhuman.
Then she saw him.
He stood atop a ruined tower, mask reflecting the moonlight like a second face. Kagetsu—The Eternal Jester. Harlequin of the Abyss. The legends whispered that he was sealed, a forgotten ghost in the folds of time. But here he was. Laughing.
And she was staring into his eyes.
"I see you," he said, tilting his head.
She blinked. He was gone. Her comrades didn't believe her.
But she began seeing him everywhere.
In reflections. In the crowd. Even in her dreams. Sometimes, she would wake with his laughter echoing between her ears and blood beneath her fingernails.
He never approached. Not fully. He didn't need to.
He waited.
He seeded doubt in her mind. "That healer is planning to betray you."
"She's poisoned your rations."
"Why did the rogue smile when you stumbled?"
One night, Isari woke to find her closest companion dead—his throat slit. No sign of a struggle. No sign of a fight.
Just blood.
She stared at her hands. They trembled.
"I didn't…" she whispered.
But she knew the dagger used was hers.
Kagetsu appeared again. Not far—just standing atop a hill, arms outstretched like he was basking in her grief.
"Isn't it beautiful?" he asked. "You're finally becoming real."
"What have you done to me?" she screamed.
He didn't answer.
He only watched.
And she kept changing.
No one trusted her anymore. Villagers locked their doors. Her party disbanded, leaving her alone. Her reflection in the water now wore his mask. Her sword sang with laughter when it tasted blood.
The curse wasn't a weight.
It was a voice. A presence. It told her who to kill. When to strike. How to smile while doing it.
And she obeyed.
There was resistance at first. Hesitation. Guilt. But Kagetsu was patient.
He would whisper truths, twist memories. He turned moments of innocence into hidden betrayals. She remembered her parents' deaths—not as a sickness, but as a betrayal by her sister. She remembered her lover leaving—not out of fear, but to conspire against her.
"You see now," Kagetsu whispered. "They all deserved to die."
And eventually, she believed him.
That was the final crack.
She began killing at random. Not for coin. Not for duty. For silence. For peace. For the voice to stop.
And all the while, Kagetsu watched.
He observed her rampage from a distance, perched atop churches, ruins, dead trees. Always laughing.
But he didn't intervene.
Not until she had killed a dozen innocents in a border town. Not until she stood over the body of a child, blade slick and shaking, sobs wracking her body.
That's when he stepped forward.
"You've done so well," he said, crouching beside her. His mask glowed in the pale moonlight. His white hair was slick from the mist. "But this part is my favorite."
He pressed a finger to her forehead.
And she remembered.
Everything.
Who she had been. What she had done. Every life she had taken. Every innocent smile that now lay still. Her comrades. Her family. The child.
"No…" she gasped, recoiling.
He said nothing.
She crawled away from him, vomited, clutched her head, screamed. Her sobs echoed in the broken stone streets.
He watched her crumble.
And smiled.
"What… what are you?" she begged, her voice choked with horror.
He walked forward, kneeling in front of her, staring directly into her soul.
"I'm the one who let you become what you truly are," he said. "You were always going to fall, Isari. I just gave you a nudge."
Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked at the blade in her hand.
"I can't live with this," she whispered.
Kagetsu stood, voice soft, mocking.
"Then don't."
The last thing she saw was the glint of her dagger—and his smile behind the mask.
Her body collapsed. The blood soaked into the earth.
Kagetsu turned away, walking back into the night.
"One more soul shattered," he mused aloud. "How fragile they are…"
And his laughter followed the wind.