Aric Vale
We reached the old watchtower at mid-morning the next day. The structure rose from the wasteland like a broken tooth, thirty feet of crumbling stone, roof long since collapsed.
"This is it?" Captain Lyons asked skeptically. "This is your rally point?"
"It was intact seven years ago," I said. "The Wastes have a way of aging things faster than normal time."
We approached cautiously, weapons drawn. The tower sat alone in a field of dead grass, no cover nearby. If this was a trap, we'd see it coming.
But I felt no danger. Just a strange pull, like recognition.
I'd been here before. Not recently, seven years ago. The memory was faint, filtered through fog, but present.
Garrett and Lyons went in first, checking for threats. After a tense minute, Garrett called back: "Clear. But you need to see this."
They brought me inside, still bound. The tower's interior was hollow, open to the sky where the roof had fallen. Stones littered the floor, overgrown with strange plants.
And in the center, scratched into the floor in fresh marks….
A message.
"ARIC, IF YOU REMEMBER, MEET ME AT THE CROSSING. MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE OR I RUN. ..MT"
"MT," Garrett said. "Marcus Thorne."
"When was this written?" Lyons demanded. "These scratches are fresh. Hours old, maybe a day."
"He's watching us," I realized. "He saw us coming, left the message, and disappeared."
"What's 'the crossing'?" Garrett asked.
I closed my eyes, trying to access memories through the fog. The crossing. Something about a river, a ford, a place where…
The presence in my head stirred. Offered the information freely this time:
*Where the twin streams meet. Two miles east. We used to water the horses there.*
"I know it," I said. "Two miles east. Where two streams converge."
"Convenient," Lyons said. "Your shadow knows everything you need to know exactly when you need to know it."
"The shadow is me," I said. "Part of me. The part that remembers. Of course it knows."
"It's also the part that's killed seventeen people," Lyons countered. "The part that murdered Thomas. Why should we trust anything it tells you?"
"Because it wants the princess dead more than it wants us dead," I said. "We're not on the target list. We're not part of the conspiracy. The shadow only kills people who were involved in Dorian's murder."
"Thomas wasn't involved," Lyons said flatly.
The words hit like a blow. Because he was right. Thomas had been nineteen, and hadn't joined the Guard until eight months ago. He couldn't possibly have been involved seven years ago.
So why had the shadow killed him?
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know why it killed Thomas. Maybe, maybe it saw him as a threat. Maybe it was protecting itself. Or protecting me."
"How generous," Lyons said bitterly. "Your monster murders a boy to protect you."
"I didn't say it was right," I snapped. "I said I don't understand it. The shadow operates with its own logic, its own purpose. I'm not controlling it."
"Then what good are you?" Lyons demanded. "If you can't control it, can't stop it, can't even predict it—why shouldn't I just kill you now and hope that ends this?"
"Because I'm your only link to it," I said. "Kill me, and maybe the shadow dies. Or maybe it becomes completely free, no longer tethered to my sleeping body. No longer limited to night. Would you gamble on that?"
Silence. Lyons looked like he wanted to argue, but couldn't find the words.
"The crossing," Garrett said, redirecting. "If Thorne wants to meet at midnight, we have," He checked the sun's position. "Twelve hours. What do we do until then?"
"We prepare," I said. "Set up position, plan for contingencies. Thorne said come alone. He's frightened, paranoid. He won't show if he sees an armed group."
"So what do you suggest?" Garrett asked.
"I go alone. You watch from a distance. If it's legitimate, if Thorne actually shows, you'll see. If it's a trap, you'll be close enough to intervene."
"Absolutely not," Lyons said. "You're not going anywhere without direct supervision."
"Then Thorne runs. And we lose our only witness."
"He said midnight," Garrett interjected. "That's when your shadow is strongest. When the split is most complete. What if you can't go alone? What if your shadow goes instead?"
The thought chilled me. What if I lost time at midnight, woke up to find the shadow had gone to the meeting instead? What would it do to Thorne?
"Then you'll have to stop it," I said. "Watch me constantly. If I start to split, if the shadow begins to separate, knock me unconscious. Do whatever it takes to keep me present and bound."
"And if that doesn't work?" Lyons asked.
"Then kill me. Because if the shadow kills Thorne, we lose everything."
We spent the day preparing. Found a position overlooking the crossing, a small rise about fifty yards out, covered with scrub brush. Good sightlines, adequate concealment.
Garrett and Lyons would hide there. The remaining two soldiers, Jenkins and Marek, would stay with the horses a quarter mile back, ready to respond if needed.
I would approach the crossing alone, bound but with enough slack in my ropes to move naturally. If Thorne appeared, if he was willing to talk, I'd signal the others with a specific gesture, hand through my hair three times.
If the shadow appeared instead, if I started to split, they'd put an arrow in me.
Not to kill. Just to wound, to shock me back to single consciousness. That was the theory anyway. None of us knew if it would actually work.
As the sun set, we moved into position. Jenkins and Marek took the horses back. Garrett and Lyons settled into their hide on the rise, weapons ready.
And I walked down to the crossing alone.
The twin streams met in a shallow pool, water clear and cold. I'd been here before, I remembered it now with increasing clarity. We stopped here seven years ago, on our way to the patrol route. Dorian had joked about something, splashed water at me. I laughed, splashed back.
The memory hurt. Sharp and immediate, cutting through seven years of fog.
This was one of the last times I'd seen him happy.
I sat by the pool, hands loosely bound, and waited. The sky darkened from purple to black. Stars emerged, but wrong, too many, in patterns that didn't match normal constellations. The Wastes affected everything, even the night sky.
Time crawled. I stayed alert, watching for any sign of Thorne. Watching for any sign of my shadow stirring.
Around eleven, I felt it. That familiar pulling sensation, like something trying to separate from me.
The split was beginning.
I fought it, focusing on physical sensations. The cold ground beneath me. The sound of water flowing. The rope around my wrists. Anything to anchor myself to this body, this moment.
But the pull grew stronger. My vision started to double. I could feel my shadow growing denser, more solid.
"Not yet," I whispered. "Just one more hour. Let me meet him, let me get his testimony. Then you can have control."
The shadow didn't respond. Just continued pulling, trying to separate.
I was losing the fight.
Then, movement in the darkness. A figure approaching from the east, staying low, moving carefully.
Not my shadow. Someone else.
Someone real.
"Aric?" A voice called quietly. Male, uncertain. "Is that really you? Not the other thing?"
"It's me," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Marcus Thorne?"
"Yeah." He emerged from the shadows, and I could see him in starlight. Mid-thirties, soldier's build, face gaunt from weeks of running. His eyes were wild with fear and exhaustion. "You alone?"
"Yes." Technically true. Garrett and Lyons were watching, but not with me.
"Your shadow, the thing that looks like you, it killed the others. All of them."
"I know. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" He laughed bitterly. "You're sorry? Your monster murdered my friends. People I served with. And you're sorry?"
"I didn't choose this," I said. "The curse…"
"The princess cursed you. I know. I was there." Thorne moved closer, still keeping distance. "I saw what she did that night. Saw her poison the prince, saw her curse you when you tried to intervene. We all saw it."
"Then why didn't you speak up? Why didn't you tell the king?"
"Because she threatened us!" His voice rose, then dropped back to a whisper. "Said if we talked, she'd frame us all for treason. Said she had evidence planted, witnesses prepared. We'd all hang, our families would suffer. What would you have done?"
I had no answer. Maybe I would have spoken anyway. Maybe I would have chosen truth over safety.
Or maybe I would have done exactly what they did, kept silent and tried to survive.
"She's eliminating you all now anyway," I said. "Everyone who knows the truth. Using me, using my shadow, to do it."
"I know. That's why I ran. That's why I'm hiding." He crouched down, still maintaining distance. "But I can't run forever. The shadow will find me eventually. It's only a matter of time."
"Then testify," I urged. "Come back with us. Tell the king everything. Expose her before she can silence you."
"And you think he'll believe me?" Thorne asked. "His beloved daughter, accused of murdering his son? By a soldier who stayed silent for seven years? While the only other witness is you, a cursed man who's killed seventeen people?"
"We have to try…"
That's when it happened.
The split completed.
One moment I was sitting by the stream, talking to Thorne. Next, I felt myself fracture completely. My consciousness divided, half staying in my body, half sliding into my shadow.
And my shadow stood up.
Thorne's eyes went wide. "No,you said you were alone, you said…"
"I am alone," my body said. My voice, but not my words.
My shadow spoke with my other voice, the harder one: "Run."
Thorne ran.
But the shadow was faster.