One of the two guard trolls shifted his weight lower. His right leg bent at the knee, foot inching forward while his left leg slid back. His muscles bulged, thick cords of sinew gaining definition against his green skin. Then he muttered something under his breath, and the currents of magic surged around him.

  His soul darkened.

  A skill!

  His feet dented the ground, cracks radiating outwards.

  Boom!

  The troll shot toward me. He must’ve been over a ton, yet he moved in an instant, a blur of motion pushing a column of air that slammed against me, distorting my figure. I tried to block, but the momentum was overwhelming. His claw tore through my blade, my body, shredding them into wisps of black vapor.

  He blurred past, skidding to a halt, and looked back in confusion at the dissolving shadows. Another me rose up from a shadow near the wall. Perhaps it was the dim light, or perhaps trolls couldn’t see colors, but he couldn’t tell…

  That wasn’t the real me.

  The real me was underneath, in the shadow realm, biding my time.

  More of my clones rose around the trolls. I had made these more solid, but they were still not substantial enough to push against the trolls’ brute strength.

  But that wasn’t their purpose.

  Instead, I used them as lures. They taunted the trolls, deflecting a few swipes of the claw before being torn apart, baiting out a skill here and there. It allowed me to map their skillset and spot the telltale signs of activation.

  A series of exchanges and four obliterated shadow clones later, they were exactly where I wanted them: clustered together, growling and swinging their arms in frustration.

  I emerged out of the shadow behind them and cast the spell that Mama had taken the time to teach me.

  A jet of toxic-green slime sprayed out of my raised palm, coating all three of the perfectly positioned trolls.

  “Arrraaagg!”

  Blood-curdling screams pierced the decrepit ballroom. One of the guard trolls sank to his knees, wiping furiously at his face as smoke trails hissed between his clawed fingers.

  I obliged him with a quick end by stabbing my sword through his chest. The [Void Blade] ripped apart his flesh, devouring the shadows that poured out of his gaping wound, and shredding the shell of his soul. Points of light poured out of him, flooding into me.

  Over twenty soul points. He was indeed a Wraith Knight hybrid.

  A flurry of claw strikes rained down upon me, but I had already swapped myself for my clone, sinking into the shadow realm. A series of exchanges saw more clones being sundered into black wisps as the remaining two flailed in rage.

  I waited for my clones to draw the second guard close enough to the perimeter. As he swung at a figure that had darted between his legs, I leaped from the shadow stretching up the wall. Landing squarely on his back, I drove my blade down his spine to carve him open.

  He slammed into the ground like a felled tree as I siphoned the last of his soul.

  I had used acid to halt their regeneration, but it proved unnecessary. Flesh cannot knit itself back together without a soul.

  The King swung his wickedly long claw at the three clones engaged with him. The claw, whistling through the air, eviscerated them into fading black ribbons. But they had done their jobs—they held him back long enough.

  Oh, another reward. But haven’t I already been giving my shadows substance?

  I leveled my sword at the lone standing figure. It was just me and him left.

  Magic currents swelled as he attempted to use a skill, but the hands of my [Shadow Snare] were already reaching for him. With a snarl, he yanked free, snapping the shadowy limbs like dry twigs—but it was already too late.

  [Hasted Steps]

  My body blurred as I launched off a solid shadowy hand in the air. My sword connected with his chest mid-flight. The blade of annihilating void ate into him.

  But just as I was about to cut open his core, his entire body went slack, collapsing into the ground.

  The Donkey Master, in his ghostly ethereal form, shed the lifeless heap of flesh. He unfurled, spreading outwards, wider and higher than the troll ever was.

  He let go of his body?!

  I was caught in mid-air by his wavering, spectral arms, suspended before him. Looming before me was the familiar face of a tortured old man: long white hair and beard, cheeks sunken, and eyes round, black, and hollow.

  His voice spoke in my mind, echoing in my skull. “At last, you come to end me again, child. This time you can give me real peace.”

  “What do you mean, again? You remember me?”

  That shouldn’t be possible. He never mentioned this in any of our interactions before.

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  “I know you well, child. For centuries, we’ve met and you’ve ended me, over and over again. But then I appeared here, and here I roamed, tormented by memories, until you appeared once more. I miss you, child.”

  “How… How could you remember across lifetimes?… How do you know it’s me?”

  I didn’t look the same. I certainly didn’t use the same spells or abilities.

  “I am a father cursed to hold on, to grieve and lust for his lost daughter whom I will never hold. I see you as the daughter lost countless times. I see the scars accumulating on your soul. I know that a father grieved for you… a lost daughter… a son.”

  I felt my mind go numb. “What… No… How…?”

  The ghostly head shook, trailing vapors of hair and beard. “I know not. It’s the way of the world. End my torment, as you now can. And in exchange, I can give my curse as a gift…”

  His ethereal hand rose, cupping my left cheek in its chilling mist. “Do you wish to remember?”

  I thought back to the portrait of me in my painting room, the real me, the black blob where the face of a boy should be.

  But what’s the point? Why do I need to remember? I could never go back…

  And yet, slowly, I nodded.

  His spectral nail dug into my flesh, dragging a long, burning line across my cheek.

  It reached deeper in, etching a thin hairline score into the metal surface.

  Pain spilled over the world, washing away the cracked, crumbling stonework.

  Click… Click… Click…

  Form the cross up top, align the edges with the center of the adjacent faces. Now… It was time to set the corners.

  Rotate away… Turn left… Rotate back…

  My stubby fingers worked the slick plastic squares.

  Red, White, Green, Yellow… Bright clear colors.

  Got to keep it stable.

  “Steve dear, what are you doing? You’ve been playing with that for too long.”

  A giant hand descended, snatching the cube and all its mesmerizing colors away from me.

  A surge of anger and frustration bubbled up in my small chest. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the room, but then I saw my mother’s red hair and her warm green eyes. Her arms wrapped around me and I was safe in her embrace.

  My father turned the rubik's cube in his hand. “Look, honey. Our boy’s a genius. He’s three and he’s already solving this.”

  His hair was still glossy and black. His eyes twinkled with a boundless forgotten energy.

  My mother shushed him as she bounced me in her arms. “He still shouldn’t be playing with it the whole day.”

  “Hey look! I can solve it too!” Allison shouted triumphantly.

  “Cheat…” I mumbled, pointing a chubby finger at the corners that had been popped out and jammed back in.

  But Ally’s glare silenced me.

  Click… Click… Click…

  Move pawns forward. Sacrifice one. Send out the bishop. Cover with the knight.

  The black and white squares of the board replicated, rising into ethereal layers stacked atop each other. Each possible move branched into more, a lattice of outcomes bound by one inevitable thread.

  Checkmate in five.

  Crash!

  A body slammed into the chessboard, knocking it off the table and sending the pieces flying. The ethereal layers warped with the fallen board, the thread snapping.

  “Hey! We are in the middle of a game!” I shot to my feet, my face growing hot.

  My friend Greg tried desperately to wave me back.

  A tall boy rammed his chest into me, knocking me back.

  “Oops, sorry about your big game! I didn’t see it.”

  “You did it on purpose!” I snapped, my hand clenching into an indignant fist.

  A hand clamped onto my forearm, pulling me away. “No, Steve!” Allison hissed at me.

  “Aww… saved by your big sister, again!” the voices jeered behind us.

  She dragged me further and whispered into my ear, her breath chilled. “I know where his locker is. We’ll take care of him later.”

  Click… Click… Click…

  I’m at the controller of my favorite RTS, sending in the first wave as I was teching up back at base.

  Hmm… I never noticed that island had resources as well. Maybe I can rush two bases.

  Ally yawned beside me on the couch, stretching her arms into the air until her joints popped. “Steve, haven’t you played this map a thousand times already?”

  “I like the small variations. They build a pattern.”

  My voice was even, mechanical. My fingers mashed the smooth buttons, my eyes locked on the screen, but in my mind, the layers of previous matches stacked up, compressing into textured folds, that thread of inevitability again tying them together.

  “Ugh, well let’s play that shooter… or… that fighting game I beat you in,” she said with a mischievous grin, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

  “I found out how you cheated. But I figured out the pattern in that game too. Let’s play after this,” I said in that monotone voice as I finished demolishing the enemy base.

  “Hmph…” Ally sank into the couch with her arms folded. “Let’s play a co-op game instead.”

  Click… Click… Click…

  “Merry Christmas everyone!” My father shouted.

  Ally and I were in the middle of disassembling present wrappings.

  We were there as a family, by the warmth of the fireplace. My father and mother were sitting beside each other on the couch, a little older, a little greyer, but happy. Content.

  They held steaming mugs in their hands, watching their two children under a Christmas tree lit with ornaments.

  A pair of sneakers. Okay…

  Ski socks, and gloves… That’s nice…

  I looked over at Mom, and smiled bashfully at her gentle eyes. I knew what she was trying to say.

  A little less games. Go outside.

  But then I ripped the paper off a thin, rectangular box. A present from Dad.

  The Hundred Years War.

  On the cover, generals from opposing sides faced off. Joan was at the top-left, sword pointed, hair wavering in the wind, and already the flames were rising in the background.

  “Oh nice! Thanks Dad!”

  Ally was sitting amongst a pile of presents. On her ears was a pairing of dangling pearl earrings she just got from Mom, but she was beaming more at the game box in her hand.

  The title was drawn in bright colorful cartoon letters: Hearts of Flames.

  I recognized Tomas on the cover. He was drawn a little older, but that was his light-grey hair and yellow eyes; the shape of the face was identical. The other boys didn’t look at all familiar, and Anthony’s characteristic green hair was nowhere in sight.

  The heroine I didn’t recognize either. But the girl standing behind her with a wicked smile… She had my metallic blue hair.

  Though… her eyes were a deep, blood red like the one eye of my sword form.

  So where did the purple come from?

  Looking between the two game covers, I finally saw it: a merger between the demonic red and Joan’s game-rendered blue eyes.

  I’m more than what I should’ve been.

  Click…

  The memories slipped from my mind, leaving me hungry for more.

  “Is that… it?”

  I still had no idea what I looked like.

  The old man’s voice again resonated in my mind. “We only get shards, and they stab when the pain is ripe. It’s a curse. Do you regret, child?”

  I touched the line that had been scratched open across my left cheek. It was still wet and burning.

  Will it always be like this?

  The pain… to be fed a trickle of what I had lost.

  So be it.

  “No.” I answered, staring into those hollow eyes as the click, click, click of faded memories snapped into place.

  He spoke in his strained, worn-out voice, echoing in the still, stale room.

  “Alors, un dernier cadeau, ma fille-épouse. Pour toutes nos danses.” — Then one final gift, my daughter-bride. For all our dances.

  He raised one ghostly hand over my head, while the other still held me suspended in the air by my waist, as if we had been dancing all this time.

  A circlet appeared in his wispy fingers and settled cold and heavy upon the crown of my head.

  I knew without looking that this was the [Tiara of Solace].