The street was quiet now, save for the sizzling pools of shadow evaporating in the early morning heat.
Scott stood among the wreckage — bodies of Zena Squad twisted and broken, blood steaming where it pooled in the cracks of the pavement. His blade dripped black.
Too easy, he thought.
The whispers started again. Like wind through dead trees. A voice older than him. Older than memory.
"You're getting used to it, aren't you?"
"No," Scott muttered, shaking his head. "Not like this. It was self-defense."
He pulled up his hood, covering his face, ignoring the way the nightosphere's mark pulsed on his chest. The voice giggled.
"East."
That was all it said.
Scott moved quickly, vanishing down a back street, wiping blood from his fingers. He had to find a train. Get out. Keep moving.
The whispers hummed in his head like a lullaby for monsters.
Beneath the town, the air was thick and stale.
Sho's boots echoed through the underground tunnel system, sewer water splashing with each step. The stone walls glistened with old blood. Bones. Shoe prints. A child's doll.
The shapeshifter had been here for days — weeks, maybe.
Sho's grip tightened.
Why hadn't anyone stopped this? Why didn't the townspeople say anything?
He pressed on.
The chasm widened ahead of him, and that's when he heard it — a girl's scream.
Sho sprinted forward, catching sight of the monster: hunched, malformed, its flesh bubbling and reshaping. Behind it, a girl. Barely ten. Terrified.
Sho didn't think — just moved.
His foot slammed into the shapeshifter's ribs. It grunted, stumbling.
For a second, Sho thought he had the upper hand—
—but then a jagged blade-arm erupted from the thing's side and crashed into his chest, sending him skidding across the wet stone floor.
His ribs screamed. The air left his lungs. The monster turned its attention back to the girl.
She ran toward Sho, tears streaking her face—
—and the blade struck.
Blood flew like ribbons in the air.
"No!" Sho roared.
He caught her mid-fall, her small body crumpling into his arms. Her back was split, deep and red.
Sho's heart burned.
"An innocent child…" he whispered. "She's gone... Not because of whatever you are. But because of me."
His aura ignited, light bursting from his back like wings not fully grown. He turned and ran, cradling the girl, lungs burning, not looking back.
He burst from the storm drain into daylight and pushed through the crowd, nearly collapsing as he reached the inn.
"In here!" he shouted, banging the door open.
Elsa rushed out from behind the counter. When she saw the girl in Sho's arms, her smile vanished.
"Take her. Please," Sho gasped.
Elsa didn't hesitate. Her hands were already on the girl's neck, checking her pulse, whispering something under her breath. She carried her upstairs.
As she moved, her thoughts flickered —
Sho's trembling. He looks pale. This isn't just exhaustion. It's fear.
And she hadn't seen him afraid. Not even once.
She laid the girl in an empty room and closed the door.
Sho didn't wait long. He needed a new outfit — his was shredded and soaked with blood.
He returned to Clara's shop, handed over his ruined suit. She took it with a nod and a look he couldn't quite read.
Cleaned up and changed, Sho stepped back into the world.
As he exited the clothing store, he saw someone else leaving the inn: a man in a sharp grey and red suit, case slung over his back, music blasting from headphones.
Sho tried to warn him. "Hey! You should watch out—!"
No response. The man vanished into the fog.
Then Sho saw it again.
The shapeshifter.
Different face. Same eyes. Watching. Lurking.
It dipped into an alley before Sho could chase. It was taunting him now.
Sho gritted his teeth and turned away. Not yet. Not until I have a plan.
He made his way back inside, up to Room Two.
Alice was still sleeping.
He sat at her bedside and placed a few trinkets on the table — a stone from the alley. A rusted coin. A broken fang.
All reminders of failure.
He looked at her peaceful face, her hands unmoving, and whispered:
"Why won't you wake up?"
Darkness.
Not peaceful darkness — no.
This was the cold kind. The kind that buzzed in your ears and settled behind your eyes. The kind where you couldn't feel your body anymore.
Alice drifted.
Somewhere in the void, memory began to stitch itself together.
A village smothered in fire. Screams echoed through the rubble. Alice stood in shadow armor, breathing heavy. A bloodied broadsword hung in her hand, trembling.
"Where's the rest of your squad?" someone barked over comms.
She didn't respond.
They were dead. All of them. Even Rena — her best friend. The girl who always hummed to calm her nerves.
Alice remembered her charred body. The way she shielded Alice with her own frame.
She couldn't save her. Couldn't save anyone.
"Soloist... that's what they called me."
But not out of praise. Out of survival.
Late evening. Moonlight in the courtyard. Ratan was sitting, sharpening his blade.
Alice approached, still blood-soaked from her trial.
He looked at her, wordless. His eyes held sorrow. Or maybe respect. Hard to tell with him.
She sat beside him. "They're all dead," she said.
He nodded once. "Then don't waste it. Become stronger."
It was the closest thing to comfort she ever got from him. And it was enough.
For a while.
Alice stood at the top of a collapsed watchtower, covered in enemy blood. Three dead knights around her. Friendly.
It wasn't her fault. The orders had been unclear. But that didn't stop the looks. The muttered words.
"She survives too much."
"Bad omen."
She stopped speaking much after that. Trained harder. Got quieter.
Now she walked the space between.
Not in armor. Not in flesh.
Just Alice.
Alone again.
Her knees buckled. She dropped to the black floor of her own mind.
"What was the point of all that strength?"
Her arms were bare — pale and smooth. No scars. No callouses. No weight to them.
She clenched her fists — or tried to. They trembled like a child's.
"I was supposed to protect people. I was supposed to—"
But the darkness started to rise. Drowning her.
She closed her eyes.
Then something touched her.
Warm. Radiant.
A pulse of gold broke through the dark.
Sho's form shimmered above her — not his physical self, but his essence. He radiated like a sun beneath the sea.
He extended a hand.
She blinked.
"You...?"
He smiled slightly. "I'm not sure how this works. I just... put my head on your chest and focused."
"Why?"
"Because you weren't waking up. And I need you."
She hesitated.
"I'm not a knight anymore."
"I don't care," Sho said. "You're still you. That's enough."
She looked around at the crumbling fragments of her mind — all the broken pieces, fallen comrades, the guilt, the shame.
"And who even are you?" she asked.
Sho squeezed her hand tighter.
"Your guardian angel."
Alice snorted softly. "Bit late, aren't you?"
"Yeah. But I'm here now."
Together, they started to run. Through collapsing memories and unraveling fog. The light from his body spread into her, strengthening her step. Her shape solidified. So did his.
They reached the core — a sphere of memory, pulsing weakly.
Alice gasped awake.
Sho sat by her side, hand still resting over her heart, eyes wide.
She breathed hard — sweat on her skin, eyes adjusting to the inn's warm lamp light.
"I saw everything," she whispered.
Sho nodded.
"I need your help," he said. "There's a monster. A real one."
She looked at her arms — still human, still soft.
"I'm not what I was," she muttered. "My muscles are gone. My scars. Everything."
"You don't need scars to fight," Sho said. "You just need a reason."
Alice looked up at him.
Then she nodded once.
The room was warm, quiet — too quiet after what had just happened.
Alice sat up slowly, pulling the blanket over her chest, confused but alive. Sho still sat beside her, face flushed from exhaustion and something else.
That's when the door creaked open.
Elsa stood in the doorway, a teasing smile on her lips and a tray of tea in her hands.
"Well, well," she said, voice light. "Didn't mean to interrupt the lovebirds."
Sho immediately recoiled. "It's not— Shut up, Elsa."
Alice blinked. "Lovebirds...?"
Her cheeks warmed just enough for Elsa to grin.
Sho cleared his throat and stood up abruptly, changing the subject. "We've got bigger things to worry about. That monster's still out there."
Elsa raised an eyebrow, setting the tray down. "Oh? And you're just gonna charge in like a righteous knight again?"
Sho chuckled dryly. "What, you? You gonna come with? A little girl against that beast?"
Alice cut in before Elsa could retort, voice low. "Where... are we?"
Elsa's smirk faded slightly. She looked at Alice, then Sho. Her tone shifted.
"You're in the Foglands," she said.
Sho paused. "The what?"
Elsa sat down on Sho's bed across from them, serious now. "This entire stretch of land — the town, the roads, the surrounding forest — it's all cursed. It's always covered in fog for a reason. The Golden Rule of this place: there will always be at least one monster on the loose."
Alice narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean always?"
Elsa shrugged lightly, but her eyes were heavy with history. "If you kill one, another appears. Could be something harmless. Slimes, horned bunnies... hell, I've seen a cabbage with legs. But other times? Could be worse. Demons. Nightwalkers. Warbeasts. Even... things we don't have names for."
Sho's expression hardened. "How does that even make sense?"
"It doesn't. No one really knows why," Elsa said. "But there are some who know more than others. A few townsfolk with pieces of the truth. One of them... is Clara."
Sho's eyes widened. "Clara?"
Elsa nodded. "She's not just a tailor. She's... something else. Been here longer than anyone should be. The only one who walks the fog like it's sunlight."
Sho dropped onto the edge of the bed, mind spinning.
Something clicked.
Flashes hit him — memories hidden just out of reach.
He remembered Alice — in his arms, blood trailing behind her as they flew above scorched trees. He remembered feeling something chasing them, something old. A sensation of dread so thick he could barely breathe.
A presence.
Demonic.
"I knew something was off when we entered this town," Sho said quietly.
His hands clenched into fists.
Then he looked up. "Elsa. You can help us. Everything you know — shapeshifters, how they work, how to kill one."
Elsa's smile was gone.
She looked down, then back up — eyes sharp now, no trace of sarcasm.
"Alright," she said. "Let me tell you what really makes a shapeshifter dangerous…"
"Shapeshifters..." she said. "They're not beasts. Not really. Not in the way people think."
Sho listened, arms crossed. Alice slowly sat up, her strength barely returning.
"They're parasites," Elsa continued. "They don't just kill people. They become them. Copy their mannerisms, their speech, their habits. But not perfectly. There's always something... off."
Sho's eyes narrowed. "So the man in the suit?"
"Already dead. The real one, at least. Maybe days ago. Maybe weeks." Elsa's tone hardened. "Once they consume someone, they wear their skin like a coat."
Alice stiffened. "How long has it been here?"
Elsa looked down.
"Ever since the fracture..." she slouched.
Sho raised an eyebrow. "Fracture?"
Elsa nodded. "Some say a god died here. Others say it's a tear between realms. Doesn't matter. The only thing that's true is the golden rule…"
She looked Sho in the eye.
Alice muttered, "Why stay here, then?" Alice cut in.
"Because leaving's not simple," Elsa said, eyes far away. "Sometimes people who leave come back... changed. Or not at all."
Sho took a breath.
"What do you know about the shapeshifter's limits?"
Elsa exhaled. "They prefer isolated prey. They don't like daylight, but it doesn't stop them. They can't copy powers — only flesh and voice. If you see someone acting weird... it might already be too late."
Silence hung thick between them.
Sho nodded. "That's enough to start with."
Elsa rose and looked between them. "If you're planning to fight that thing, you better do it soon. It's getting bolder. Hungrier."
Then she turned to leave but paused at the door.
"Oh... and Sho?"
"Yeah?"
"If it takes your face, don't come back through that door. I'll kill it. No questions asked."
Sho smirked. "Fair."
Sho turned toward the window, fists clenched.
"I'm going to Clara's," he said.
Elsa raised an eyebrow. "You sure? That thing could be right outside waiting to wear your skin next."
Sho didn't hesitate. "We have a contract. Two-way. She can't hide from me—and I can't hide from her."
He closed his eyes and focused on the thread connecting them. A silver flicker wrapped around his chest. One blink—and he vanished.
Sho reappeared in a soft glow of golden sigils, landing lightly on the floor of Clara's cluttered shop.
She didn't flinch.
Sitting behind her desk, needle and thread in hand, Clara was sewing his bloodied outfit back together with eerie precision. Shadows danced behind her, gentle but watching.
"You ruined the sleeves," she muttered without looking up.
"Didn't have much of a choice," Sho replied. "We've got a shapeshifter. I need insight. Fast."
Clara sighed, threading the needle again. "Of course it's a shapeshifter."
"Anything that can help me kill it?"
She paused, then spoke.
"They don't like mirrors. Their forms blur in reflection. Fire doesn't kill them, but it reveals their real face. You want to finish it? You'll need cold silver through the brain stem. Nothing else sticks."
Sho nodded. "Thank you."
He turned to leave, but Clara's tone changed—softer, almost hesitant.
"You still planning to leave this town, angel?"
He stopped.
"No. Not until I figure out how to break the curse."
That answer made Clara pause her sewing. She looked up over the rim of her thick glasses, face unreadable.
Something flickered in her eyes. A memory? A warning?
Then just as quickly, the look vanished—replaced with her usual mask of calm mischief.
"Brave of you," she said. "Or stupid. Be careful not to become both."
She waved her hand, and light enveloped Sho again.
Sho blinked back into existence—only to realize the room looked different.
Wrong room.
A small figure stirred in the bed across from him. The little girl, now stitched up and tucked in, her breathing shallow but steady. Elsa's handiwork—expert, surgical.
Sho walked to the bedside, quietly placing a small glowing sigil over the child's chest.
"A miracle, for what it's worth," he murmured. "Sleep. Heal. Don't carry this nightmare with you."
He turned to leave, almost colliding with the door as it creaked open from Room One.
Footsteps. A silhouette with a case on their back.
The same man in the grey-and-red suit.
Sho ducked out quickly, just missing them. Again.
He gritted his teeth. One day, he vowed. One day I'll find out who you are.
Back in Room Two, Sho dropped beside Alice, who looked slightly more alert now.
"We've got work to do," he said, firm. "The shapeshifter has a weakness. We'll need a mirror, silver, and fire. Enough to expose it. And kill it."
Elsa gave a slow nod. "I'll see what I can gather."
Alice looked at Sho, her voice quiet. "And the girl?"
"Resting. Alive. For now."
Miles away, on a train cutting through fog-choked countryside, Scott sat by the window.
The sun was long gone.
He stared at the thickening mist, the trees disappearing into an endless white blur. His mark itched. The whisper returned.
"East. Keep moving."
He clenched his jaw.
"Shut up."
The fog deepened. His reflection in the window flickered—horns where there should be none. Eyes too dark to be his.
Scott turned away.
He yanked the hood over his head and slumped back in the seat.
"Screw it."
Sleep took him. The whisper waited.
The wooden floor creaked under Alice's bare feet as she helped Elsa drag a heavy oak table across the entryway.
"Think this'll hold?" Alice asked, setting down the side with a wince.
Elsa inspected the barricade. "Long enough to scream if it doesn't."
They both glanced at the fog-blurred windows. Alice swallowed, gripping the loose blade she'd been given earlier.
Magic runes flickered along the doorframe—Elsa's warding charms. The room thrummed with them. Temporary safety.
Outside, Sin—Sho—was already moving.
Sin walked quickly through the market, hood up, eyes scanning everyone. Fog thinned and swirled at his presence. The town was quieter than it had been in days.
And not the peaceful kind.
He stopped by vendors, trading coin for scrap silver, rope, mirrors, flint, anything remotely useful. The list Clara gave him was crumpled in his coat pocket.
At one point, a merchant whispered, "You hear about Marcus? Went to check his barn last night. Never came back."
Another said, "Four gone today. And someone saw a face in their mirror that wasn't theirs."
Sho didn't respond. Just took the supplies, nodded once, and vanished into the mist toward Clara's shop.
"Need one more favor," Sho said, setting the silver on the table. "We need something Alice can wield."
Clara raised an eyebrow. "She's human now."
"She remembers how to fight. That's all she needs."
Clara sighed, then took the materials. "Give me an hour. And tell her to stay alive this time."
Sho nodded, silently.
Sho returned, the bell above the inn door ringing gently.
He moved quietly, weighed down by the guilt of every face that wouldn't come home. Another life gone while he walked in daylight. The shame crawled on his skin like ash. He didn't even take his coat off.
"You good?" Alice asked, stepping in behind him.
Sho shook his head. "Not even close."
"…Wanna hit something?"
A smirk ghosted across his face. "Always."
They cleared a small space and squared off. Alice moved first—fainting, then striking low.
Sho parried easily.
"Rusty," he teased.
"Watch your mouth," she snapped, grinning.
Each exchange came faster. Alice's footwork was sharp—no power, but precise. Sho's divine agility met her honed instincts. They were sweating by the end, smiling like kids at recess.
They sat side-by-side on the floor, breathing hard.
"You remember more than you think," Sho said.
Alice looked at her hands. "It's just muscle. Not me."
"It is you," he said. "It's all you. Strong. Deadly. Compassionate."
She didn't reply.
They spread supplies on the table.
Sho laid out the mirror and torch. "I'll track the shifter once it latches onto someone."
Alice held up the silver blade Clara had forged—a rough dagger, jagged but sharp. "One shot. That's all we get."
Elsa joined them, adjusting her charm bands and checking the protective runes along the walls.
"I'll keep the perimeter locked. Trap it in the lobby with us. Nowhere to run."
The three looked at one another.
Sho put his hand in the center of the table.
Alice rolled her eyes, then put hers in too.
Elsa sighed. "If I die doing this, I'm haunting both of you."
All three laughed, trying not to let the fear in.
Sho said, "Alright, team... uh…"
"Team Stablight," Elsa said.
"That's awful," Alice muttered, chuckling.
"It's perfect," Sho said. "Team Stablight."
They laughed, their hands still together. Outside, the fog pressed against the walls like a beast sniffing at its next meal.
But inside, they were ready.
More or less.
Alice launched herself from the second-story window with practiced ease, boots thudding against wooden shingles. She dashed, a silent blur, leaping across alley gaps like she'd never stopped being a knight.
Her body remembered. Her mind caught up.
She didn't look back—just ran.
Ahead, a shape turned the corner at the end of the block. Frail. Slow. Cloaked in layers and age. It was a woman this time. Wrinkled. Hollow-eyed. Silent.
Alice skidded to a halt at a brick wall.
No exits.
She turned to face the creature.
It tilted its head at her. "Lost, dear?"
The voice was soft. Familiar. Wrong.
Alice clenched her fists. "You're not real."
The thing smiled. "Neither are you."
Sho followed at a calculated distance, his mirror catching every glimpse of motion, every flutter of shadow. The rope hung looped on his hip, glistening with oil. In his other hand, a lighter, flicked open and ready.
He saw it then—his shifter.
Dapper. Tall. Cane tapping the ground as it walked too smoothly to be real.
The same one from the alley. Hat tilted low. Face like a cracked mask over rotting meat.
Sho's pace quickened. "You're mine."
He sprinted.
But something gnawed at him.
Why wasn't it with Alice?