Fear tightened in Lucimia’s chest as the shadow pressed in like black water. Her gut said one brush of it meant disaster.

But her body felt emptied after a storm; legs like lead posts wouldn’t lift. Magic was a sealed spring; focus scattered like dry leaves. She was in a bad way.

Behind her, the shadow swallowed a tree like ink flooding rice paper, then chewed the soil at her feet. As it surged to take her, the girl opposite stepped in and touched her hand.

Warmth flickered like a lantern; relief flushed her limbs. She could move again, and magic stirred like a waking river. She had no idea why.

The girl who looked exactly like her backed away, a mirror with frost, and stood facing her with a blank, mask-still face.

Lucimia bolted two steps, fleeing the chill tide behind her, then lifted her gaze to the other her.

The girl flicked a blink like a firefly, turned, and drifted toward the forest’s deep shade. After a while she glanced back, then went on like a slender stream.

“Signaling me to follow?” Annoyance pricked like grit under the skin; the sudden scene tasted strangely off, a fishbone caught in the throat.

With so many odd signs and a lookalike beckoning her on, red flags rose like tattered banners. This had trouble written all over it.

Yet the shadow kept hounding like a starving wolf, so Lucimia ran two steps to catch up. Then doubt snagged her; she stopped cold.

“Is this an illusion? Ment’s curse?” The thought cooled her spine like rain on stone.

Maybe a cursed zone, where anyone stepping in falls into a dream like mist over water?

But if so, why not an instant-death curse, a blade that drops at once? Maybe that can’t be done—an energy issue, with no Cross nearby.

Ignorance would make her a baited fish, snagged by the curse without knowing.

So she decided, on the road to Erwei City, to keep the passive skill Devouring All Things humming like a net, and block Ment’s sly snares.

She switched it on, but nothing peeled back; the world stayed the same. The shadow still chased like a slow tide.

“Not an illusion?”

Lucimia raised a hand and cast a lump of night, trying to Devour the thing behind her. Night met night—her shadow was swallowed whole, and nothing changed.

“What is this?” Confusion frothed like foam. “I finally get some teeth for a fight, and it throws me a bone I can’t bite? What’s wrong with me… who’s gunning for me?”

She wanted to flop down like a sulking child, cry, and let fate wash over her. She only imagined it; in practice, she trailed the other her with a bitter face.

Step by step it grew stranger. The black-haired girl strolled like a casual walk, while Lucimia ran like a deer, yet the gap stretched like elastic.

The other even feared she’d lose her, stopping to look back like a kite tugging its string, then turning and gliding on once Lucimia drew near.

Too weird. What’s this game?

Where is she trying to lead me?

Lucimia halted, a stone in the stream. A reckless thought rose—why not let the shadow swallow her and see?

Maybe that shadow was a baited trick, pushing her to follow the girl; maybe being swallowed was harmless, a paper tiger with paint.

Thinking back, when it was about to take her, the girl steadied her like a hand at the cliff and let her move again. Didn’t that mean she didn’t want Lucimia touching the dark?

Doesn’t that suggest the shadow is fake, a lure to herd her, a shepherd’s dog working the lane?

But what if it isn’t?

What if the good side is the other me, and the shadow truly rots like mold?

Lucimia didn’t dare choose. Paranoia rustled like grass in a cold wind, yet there was no choice but to think this way.

“Right—Reversion. Roll back to the moment before the illusion hit.” A spark lit; she snapped into using Reversion.

But Reversion jammed like a broken gear; it wouldn’t turn at all.

Lucimia stood frozen, silence hanging like mist.

Now what?

With Reversion and Devouring both dulled like blunted knives, with no telling whether the shadow or the other self was the good side—maybe neither—what could she do?

She weighed it for two heartbeats, then went all in on defiance. She actually plopped down, sitting on the ground like a dropped stone.

The other self didn’t want her swallowed, didn’t she? Didn’t she try to help, to pull her along like a guide rope?

Fine. I won’t move. Let’s see you act.

Thinking that, Lucimia sat with arms crossed, head turned away, teeth on her lower lip, playing stubborn like a cat refusing the leash.

She cracked one eye like a slit moon to watch. The other only turned, stared with that blank winter face, and didn’t lift a finger.

All right then—maybe she really is another me, not illusion, not a mask. It’s normal that my own mind sees through my little plays.

But Lucimia still didn’t want to budge. The road itself felt stolen from her hands; she’d just fled a valley and walked straight into this storm, and resentment pooled like dark rain.

So she lay back outright, limbs splayed like a starfish on cold stone. Her posture said, I won’t move; do as you please.

Of course, she wasn’t truly giving up. She tested her magic and felt it stir like coals; if push came to shove, she’d use Instant Movement and blink away.

The shadow crept closer, a black tide licking the shore. Seeing she really meant to stay, the girl finally spoke—

“If you don’t want the dark to swallow you and wash your self away, follow me.” Her voice fell like iron, cold and commanding.

The tone grated like a blade on glass. Lucimia curled her lip; she’d never use that icy, bossy voice on anyone. Aside from the face, this girl’s temper was a different moon.

“Why should I trust you?” Lucimia sat up, eyes steady as still water. “You seem scared of the shadow behind me swallowing me, don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want your self to vanish, so I fear it. That’s normal. I’m your subconscious, the guard at your gate.” The girl spoke as if her lines were inked beforehand.

Trust herself to debate like herself; the fencing felt like twin blades. She even started toward Lucimia, slow as drifting snow, as if to drag her along, but Lucimia wasn’t afraid.

Calm as a pond, Lucimia said, “I’ve heard that holders of Authority Power, when corrupted too deep, lose control. That loss is a swap—another self steps in…”

She looked at the girl, gaze sharp as a needle. “Let me guess. You’re the persona that wants to replace me.”