POV: Celeste
The wine glass exploded against the wall in a shower of red liquid and crystal bits.
"Seventeen years," I hissed at the empty apartment. "Seventeen years of pretending to be human, and she ruins it in three days?"
The report sat on my desk, mocking me with every word. Energy signs from the Underground Arcade. Games creating fear so concentrated it broke measurement tools. Players emerging with psychological stress that lasted for days.
And the signature felt familiar. Too familiar.
Like feeling my own skin from the inside.
No. It couldn't be Aria. I'd kept her weak. Starved her potential. Made sure she never awakened to what she really was.
My human face itched. I resisted the desire to claw it off. I'd worn this stolen skin for so long, sometimes I forgot I wasn't really Celeste Chen. The real Celeste had been a sweet six-year-old who cried at sad movies.
She'd also been delicious.
I'd eaten her slowly over weeks. Absorbed her memories, her habits, her DNA. Became her so completely that even her own sister never noticed the change.
Aria had been eleven. Old enough to remember. Young enough to accept what she saw.
The perfect weak spot.
For seventeen years, I'd lived as Celeste. Attended school. Made friends. Fell in love—or claimed to, because parasitic Spirits don't actually feel love. We feel hunger. Always hunger.
And Aria had been my feast. The Nightmare King's vessel, repressed and unaware, leaking power I could siphon drop by drop. Keeping her weak kept me fed.
But if she'd woken...
I touched my face. Felt the stolen skin shift slightly. Ripple like water stirred.
No. I was being nervous. Aria was broken. Destroyed. I'd stripped her license, ruined her name, taken everything she loved.
She was probably dead in a ditch somewhere.
Right?
My phone buzzed. Marcus calling.
I answered. "Tell me you have good news."
"I found three of The Architect's terminals." Marcus sounded tired. Guilty. Weak. "Council Guards keep shutting them down, but new ones appear within hours. Whoever's making these games, they're smart. And fast."
"Did you get a description?"
Silence.
"Marcus. Did you. Get. A description."
"Hooded figure. Always in dark. But—" He paused. "One player said The Architect moved like someone who grew up in the streets. Knew all the back routes. All the escape ways."
My blood went cold.
"Height?"
"About five-four. Thin. Female, probably."
Aria's exact statement.
"That doesn't mean anything," Marcus said quickly. "Lots of people fit that description. It could be anyone—"
"It's her." My voice came out wrong. Layered. My true voice bleeding through the human mask. "She woke. That stupid girl actually awakened."
I hung up. Threw the phone. Watched it break against the same wall as the wine glass.
Seventeen years of careful work. Seventeen years of pretending to care about this sad human family. Of choking down human food and human feelings and human weakness.
All because the Nightmare King's vessel was worth it. The power inside Aria was meant to sustain me for centuries once I fully absorbed it.
But I'd waited too long. Been too careful. Too calm.
And now she'd awakened before I could finish the harvest.
My mirror stared back from the window. Celeste's beautiful face. Beautiful. Beloved. Fake.
Underneath, I was something else. Something that wore skin like clothes and fed on promise like wine.
A Mimic Spirit. One of the last of my kind. We didn't create fear—we stole it. Absorbed power from others. Became them so completely they didn't even know they'd died.
I'd been planning to eat Aria slowly. Let her think she was living while I drained every drop of the Nightmare King's essence.
But if she'd woken, if she'd remembered what she really was...
I couldn't beat her in a straight fight. Not yet. Not while she was riding the high of sudden power.
I needed help. An friend. Someone who could get close to Aria without raising suspicion.
Someone like Dominic.
My fiancé. The War Commander. The man bound by Spirit Contract to protect Aria—and kill her if necessary.
A slow smile crossed my stolen face.
Dominic had been useful keeping Aria suppressed and sad. But he'd served his purpose. Now I needed him for something better.
I picked up my second phone. Dialed a number I wasn't allowed to have.
"This is Celeste Chen," I said when it connected. "I need to speak with the Head Councilor. Privately. It's about Dominic Ashford and his secret Spirit Contract."
"Miss Chen, the Councilor is—"
"Tell him I know Dominic has been hiding information about the Nightmare King's vessel for five years. Tell him I can prove the War Commander has been lying to the Council. And tell him that if he wants to stop the waking before it's too late, he'll meet with me tonight."
Silence on the other end. Then: "Hold please."
I waited. Staring at my image. At the perfect mask I'd worn for so long.
Soon I wouldn't need it anymore. Soon I'd consume Aria totally. Become the Nightmare King's body myself. Gain power that would make me invincible.
I just needed to remove a few barriers first.
"Miss Chen?" The Head Councilor's voice came on the line. "I'm listening."
"Good. Because what I'm about to tell you will change everything you think you know about Dominic Ashford. And about my dear sister Aria."
I smiled. Let my true nature come through just a little. Let my voice blend and echo.
"Did you know the War Commander has been told to assassinate a civilian? That he's been bound by an illegal Spirit Contract for five years? That he's been lying to the Council about the biggest threat our city has ever faced?"
"That's... those are serious accusations."
"I have proof. Video. Audio. Documentation of the deal. Everything you need to arrest him for treason."
"Why are you telling me this? He's your fiancé."
"Because," I said softly, "I love this place more than I love any man. And if Dominic Ashford won't do his job and eliminate the Nightmare King's vessel, then someone else needs to."
I hung up before he could reply.
Stage one complete. Turn the Council against Dominic. Make him a traitor. Force him to either kill Aria or be killed himself.
Either way, I won.
My phone buzzed again. Text from an unknown number.
Clever plan. Won't work. But I admire the attempt. —M
I stared at the message. Who was M? How did they know what I'd just done?
Another text.
You're not the only one who's been patient, Celeste. Or should I call you Echo? That was your name before you stole this body, wasn't it?
My heart—if Mimics had hearts—stopped.
Nobody knew my true name. Nobody living.
Who is this?
Someone who's been watching this game play out for five hundred years. Someone who knows exactly what you are, what Aria is, and what Dominic really promised. Want to know the fun part?
I waited.
Everything you think you know about the Nightmare King is wrong. Aria isn't the vessel. She's not being possessed. She IS the King, reborn human to learn humanity before reclaiming full power. And you, dear Echo, have been feeding on a god for seventeen years.
The text continued.
When she remembers—really remembers—what you did to the real Celeste, there won't be anywhere in this world you can hide. The Nightmare King doesn't forgive those who hurt its chosen vessels.
My hands were shaking.
You have forty-eight hours before Aria's waking completes. Use them wisely. Run far. Run fast. Or stay and face what's coming. Your pick.
The phone died. Screen went black. Wouldn't turn back on.
And in the window's mirror, behind my stolen face, I saw something move.
A shadow that shouldn't exist. Eyes that glowed in the darkness.
A voice whispered from nowhere and everywhere: Hello, Echo. We need to talk about what you took from me.
I spun around.
The apartment was empty.
But the shadows were watching. Waiting. Hungry.
And they felt exactly like Aria's power signature.