Impostor—

Did Selina tell Chief Mandele about this?

While I was out cold, how much else slipped past me like fog at dawn?

Hedi’s face pinched and skewed, like a mosaic shifted out of place. Her eyes narrowed in thought. Her brows knit with doubt. Her lips dipped with a thin sting of annoyance. Each feature played its own tune, yet no single, whole expression took shape.

“I think I get it.” Hedi rubbed her sockets. Her gaze slid past Mandele’s shoulder and fixed on a phantom point in the air. “Your attitude toward the Holy Maiden shifted.”

“Smoking in here is for her to see.”

“You love to probe. Is that a cop’s habit, or a crack in the heart?”

Mandele tipped his chin and swept the four corners, like checking shadows for a hidden draft. “People like you would tell me not to smoke. Yet the Holy Maiden of the Sacred Cathedral didn’t react at all.”

“What’s wrong with people like me?”

“The Cathedral has rules,” Mandele said, his voice flat, herding the talk forward. “After I asked the Holy Maiden about an impostor, she stopped making me follow Cathedral rules. That proves—”

“A guilty conscience?”

“Close enough.”

Hedi fluttered her lashes, the motion a sharp little fan. “Your paranoia’s wearing you like a rain‑soaked cloak.”

“That’s not the reason?”

“The Holy Maiden favors gentle words. But you knowingly break the rules. Soft won’t work on you. She has to use me to go hard.”

Mandele shook his head, a slow, stone‑weighted motion. “If you weren’t here, could I smoke as I pleased?”

“She’d stop you.”

“She didn’t.”

“Because I’m here. You can’t prove a thing by assuming something that never happened. That’s not reasoning. You’re guessing based on how she reacted after hearing ‘impostor.’”

Silence settled. In the hush, thought churned like water under ice. “You said you’ve lived here sixteen years.”

“Did I?”

“Your interrogation. After the magical mess. You forgot?”

Hedi pinched her lips with two fingers, words leaking out smudged. “I lied to you, of course.”

“Why?”

“Folks here believe in the Holy Maiden like a mountain they lean on. I happen to share her name. Without a link, how would you let me go?”

“But your companion… didn’t she say—”

“The thing you worship—” Hedi’s temper climbed, each word grinding through clenched teeth like gravel, “is it the Holy Maiden herself, or the authority that comes with the title?”

Mandele squinted. The muscle at his lip twitched. His reply came hard, like a door slammed. “Don’t pile it all on me. Answer mine first. I’ll answer yours.”

“No need. You already did.”

“I believe in the Holy Maiden. Not the answer you think. That’s my answer.”

Hedi stamped her left foot, the sound a small thunderclap. “If you believe in her, you wouldn’t ask me something that dumb. Now my turn—Selina called her an impostor only because they share the same name.”

“And similar hair.”

“Similar my ass! I’m ash‑white. She’s pure white.”

“What’s the difference?”

“White’s the blend of all visible light, in theory. Ash‑white is white with a dusting of gray. A mix with trace color. Don’t ask me why white is white.”

Mandele stroked the stubble by his lip, like feeling for splinters. “So same name, but two different people.”

“I just said all that—”

“Don’t rush.”

Hedi went quiet. She paced to the window. Cold wind brushed her face and thinned the tightness in her chest like steam dissolving. She tossed the rain‑soaked cigarette pack off the sill. It vanished into the downpour, swallowed by the roaring sheet.

“I believe you’re two people,” Mandele said, hands tucked in his pockets like stones. “But I still doubt the Holy Maiden’s identity. Same name, near‑matching hair, and she comes to Naghtown. That’s hard to call coincidence.”

“What else could it be?”

“It feels too neat.”

“Contradictory,” Hedi drawled, mouth tilted with sour bite. “Not coincidence—too neat—”

“Talk straight, would you?”

“I just think… you all love thoughts that haunt you like night rain. Real or fake Holy Maiden—does it matter? For six years, you know what she’s done for Naghtown better than me. Did she break Cathedral rules? Did she bleed the town dry? You let one ‘impostor’ from Selina cage you. In the end, do you truly believe in the Holy Maiden, or fear you believed in a false face?”

“If Old John were alive, he’d say the same.” Mandele shut his eyes, the lids dropping like shutters. “I used to bring him my knots. With him gone, doubt bit down fast.”

“Frankly, people treat clergy like they have eyes that see through fog. Truth is, many answers show up if you think deeply. The key is whether you act.”

“So… about resisting the Dark Realm’s magic—how far are you?”

Hedi clicked her tongue, a small spark. She turned and met Mandele’s eyes. “Didn’t you tell me to think? I’ve been sparring over the Holy Maiden. Where’s the time?”

“Short, big temper.”

“Ha… ha…”

“Make it quick. Director Clara warned the erosion can reach you even at home.”

“Maybe—leaving here is the best way?”

Mandele lifted a finger toward the ceiling. “Hear that?”

“Rain.”

“Last rain this heavy brought what?”

“A landslide.”

“This one’s worse. Even if the Institute sends Investigators, they won’t get in fast.”

“You want us to hold till they arrive? No need to chew glass that hard.”

“Isn’t your companion an Investigator?”

“An apprentice—” Hedi cut herself off, the word bitten mid‑flight. Selina would be eavesdropping at the door. “With only one Investigator, it’s impossible.”

“There’s another. When I get back from the woods, I’ll set up a meeting.”

“Even two—”

“Pocket the gloom,” Mandele said, waving it off like smoke. “Professor Melvina.”

Hedi’s orange eyes flashed once, like a damp ember. She ended with a whisper of a sigh.

“Say it plain.”

“There’s one—” Hedi shut the window. Her gaze rested on her ghost in the glass. “Do you know how Investigators close the Dark Realm?”

Mandele shook his head in silence, a stone refusing to roll.

“The core,” Hedi said. “Shut the core, and it sleeps again.”

“But we don’t know the layout inside. To reach the core, only an Investigator—”

“You nearly counted your little plan on my forehead.” Hedi’s fingers twined a strand of hair like a thread of worry. “I will never let Selina enter the Dark Realm, even if that risks the whole town.”

“I’m not saying she has to go. I want you to see the mess inside. Beyond an Investigator, there’s no better fit.”

“You said there’s another.”

Mandele straightened, hesitation hanging like mist. “I can’t decide.”

“Because that choice could get them killed.”

“Professor Melvina, a reminder—don’t read your thoughts into my intent. You said there’s a way to close the Dark Realm. That’s what we’re discussing. Clear?”

“Mm. I get it.”

“Whether Investigators enter the Dark Realm isn’t up to you or me. It’s up to them—”

“The one you mentioned isn’t mine to direct,” Hedi said, hard as a nail. “But Selina is my bottom line. Once you grasp that, we can go on with closing the Dark Realm.”

Mandele slid a hand into his pocket, fingers searching for cigarettes like a diver groping in murk. A beat later, it hit him—the pack was gone, thrown into rain. He swallowed, wearing a look like a man riding out a craving. “No result today. Leave it here. I’m heading to the woods.”

“Suit yourself.”

“If your companion chooses to enter the Dark Realm, then what?”

“I’ll break her legs.”

Mandele shot Hedi a sidelong look. He shook his head, both weary of her iron will and oddly understanding of her fierce loyalty.