I was running, and the ground clung like glue underfoot.
Every step fought me. Roots snagged at my heel, moss slid. Branches lashed my face. One clawed my collar and ripped a thread. Another smacked my eye hard enough to make me recoil and almost stumble.
I flung my hands forward. A branch whipped my skin, leaving a hot stripe. My fingers caught bark; my palm slipped; a splinter bit under the skin. It hurt. My legs burned, fabric stuck, scrapes throbbed with every step.
A hum filled my ears. Heavy, so heavy. Deep, like after taking a hit from Paul. I sucked in a breath and my heart stuttered. Air came hard. My feet kept pounding, no pause.
Boom!
Something blew behind me—sharp, roaring. My body jerked on its own, and my pace snapped quicker.
I reached out. A branch slid aside. I don't even remember lifting it. Beyond it—a horse. Ears twitching. Staring my way, not moving.
A breath.
It tore out on its own, deep and strained. My steps evened. I raised my hands, palms forward. The horse watched, intent. Eyes shifting, ears flicking. It knew me. It stayed put, not a step back.
I came up and my fingers closed on the reins. Rough. The horse didn't flinch. Standing beside me, warm and broad. I looked at the saddle and understood:
"I don't know how to ride… fuck!" burst out of me.
I'd learned everything. Everything I could—how to swing a sword, how to shape a spell, how to read on the run. Everything but a horse.
Boom!
Another explosion rolled out behind me.
Dull, with a lag. The ground gave a short shiver under my feet, tight and local. I turned. The fight kept grinding somewhere past the trees, beyond the slope. I couldn't see anything, but I could hear it clear as day.
I looked up. Through a gap in the canopy, the sky showed—gray, storm-colored. A vortex hung over the trees. Its edges had stretched wider than before. The middle was darkening.
Was it always like this?
I could see the shape had changed—broader, lower. The clouds around it had begun to move faster. The gusts were stronger. Leaves started tearing from the branches, and the vortex itself was widening. The air shifted, turned storm-brittle, hurricane-bright—whatever it's called—everything at once sharper and quieter.
Roxy.
She stayed there. Alone. Fighting. Right now, this very second. There, that way.
My heart cinched tight.
Hollow and cold opened inside me.
I really thought I was ready. I'd spent so long clenching a sword hilt. Swinging it again and again. Learning to move the right way.
I drilled spells, called fire, held that magic shield. I convinced myself that if it came to it—I'd manage. Sure. If a fight started, I'd stand, I'd hold, I'd help. But my legs wouldn't go. My hands trembled where the weapon should be. Where resolve should sit—only the urge to run. And fear.
I need to help her, but what if…
What if I die?
The thought punched through me. Then others, one after another:
What if I'm too late?
What if I get there and she's already—
What if I run now and never make it?
What if I can't do it, can't hold, can't last?
She's stronger. Smarter, more seasoned. She's been teaching me since day one. And me—who am I? What can I even do?
I mustn't—
I mustn't leave her. I can't. She wouldn't leave me. She never did.
But the fear wouldn't let go. It was inside me, spreading like fucking poison. I wanted to sit down right here. Lean into the horse's side, cover my ears, hide. Not hear the thunder. Not know what comes next.
And then…
A nagging thought flared in my head: She told you herself—run.
And once it lit, it wouldn't go out. It didn't leave. It crawled through me, fed on me, hooked itself to every new thought.
Those were her words. Right?
I'm not betraying her—I'm obeying.
I'm doing what I was told.
She knew what she was walking into.
She's stronger. Her place is there; mine is here. I'm not running—I'm following orders.
If not for her—I'd fight! I would—
I'd stay. Really. It's just… just not the time. I need to keep my head. Be smart. What good is it if I die? What changes? One hit and that's it. Without me she still has a chance. If I throw myself in, I'll only get in the way.
I'm not a coward. I'm a realist.
How am I supposed to go in there?! It's not just a fight—this is something else. He's powerful. He's… he's not ordinary. I don't know what's there, but I know I can't handle it alone.
Paul. I need to find Paul.
He'll help. He's close. He has to be. He can handle anything. If anyone can stop that bastard, it's him. And me… I'm just… an apprentice. A kid. I can't do anything. I'll only ruin it.
And this place isn't safe. The horse is nervous—I can feel it. Her skin twitches, her chest heaves faster. If I stay, I'll die. If I move, I can get out. Fast, straight for the house. Or the stream—there's a path that drops to the road. There'll be someone there. There has to be. It's safer.
Roxy would do the same. She wouldn't charge in if she knew she couldn't carry it. I'm doing the same. It's not weakness. It's strategy.
I'm not betraying her.
I'm not running.
I—
The horse turned her head. Her eye was black and glossy. And in that eye—me. But not the me standing here now, a scrawny kid with mud on his face and fingers knotted in the reins. No. Another one. The one I had been.
That's me…
Fat. Ugly. Hunched. A swollen face, a blank glassy stare. A body that made me sick. A mole's shuffle for a walk. Hands trembling even when they reached for my own dick.
Him.
He was here again. Standing in the middle of the forest. Looking me in the eye. Breathing with my mouth. Thinking with my thoughts.
You know how this ends, he whispers. You always ran. Always looked away. Always waited for someone to come, save you, haul you out. And no one came. Not once.
A wave rolled through me—heavy, murky, tasting of tears. I rubbed my cheek—tears?
Everything surfaced at once: Like by the wall, when I couldn't hit back. Hiding in the bathroom at lunch. Afraid to step outside. Lying to dodge the street, the shouting, the stares.
You fucked it all up yourself.
The reflection didn't shut up. It stared, eyes narrowed, knowing everything before I did.
You've always been like this. Always. Pathetic. Weak. Vile. Not because the world is cruel. Because you are you. People don't change. Not even after death. Look at yourself, for fuck's sake!
His mouth didn't move, but the words battered around inside my skull. They rang in my teeth.
You just accidentally believed in yourself. By accident. A mistake. Thought you'd become someone. Hilarious! You're no one. And being no one—that's your real face. Stop hiding. Stop playing the hero.
Stop lying to yourself.
That's what you always do. You lie. You're silent when you should speak. You hide behind backs when you should go first. You pretend to be strong when inside there's only fear. It's all a lie. Everything they think of you is a lie.
They believe you.
They think you're a brilliant mage. Sharp mind. Hard-working. That you've grown. That you deserve this power.
But who are you? Huh?
You're the one who killed their son.
You're the nothing that came to a world, saw a body—convenient, strong—and took it. Pushed him aside. Stole his name. His life. His father. His mother. His friends. His teacher.
You stole everything. And you pretend it's yours. But you're nobody. A freak. A mistake.
"Shut up!"
My voice broke. There was barely any air left in my chest, but the shout jabbed out sharp. The horse flinched, ears flattening back.
The reflection didn't vanish. It stood there, unblinking. No smile, but the look went deeper. Darker.
You know I'm right.
I stepped back. My heel hit a root, my boot slipped on moss. Ice lived inside me, but my palms were burning. My fingers still gripped the reins, but I couldn't feel them anymore.
This is you. Was. Is. Will be.
"I…" My voice snagged on a rough inhale. "I'm not…"
Not what?
The reflection tilted its head, as if listening.
Not a coward? Not a thief? Not a killer?
The roar in my ears thickened, pounding in ragged bursts. The forest seemed to shove in closer.
Look at you. You've already decided. You've already chosen. You'll stay here. You'll leave her there. You'll run. Like you always did.
"I… I'm not…"
You're not going.
The words hit like the blast behind me.
You'll stay. Because you are you.
Memories hurtled faster. Scenes ripped past like someone tearing photos and flinging them in my face. The noise in my head swelled, droned, drowning out the explosions, the wind, even my heartbeat.
My eyes skittered, twitching, unable to fix on anything. The forest broke into smeared patches.
My gaze locked.
And with it, something else rose in my chest—heavy and hot. Anger. The one that burned in him on the blackest days. And with it—fury. Not at the enemy. At myself.
Here he was. The one I hate more than anyone alive. The one I'd kill if I could. There is no creature more disgusting than that reflection.
Is this why I ended up here? To run again? To let him come back? I knew—one step backward and he would take my place. And run for the rest of our life.
I was given a chance no one else gets. Something you can't buy, can't earn, can't steal. And what am I doing?
What am I standing here for?
Well?
The voice came straight out of the mouth of the one in front of me. Low, drawling, with that sneer that knots your gut.
You gonna keep sniveling here…
The words hung like spit in my face. There was just me. And that voice, the one that knows all my weak points.
My fingers crushed the reins until the knuckles went white. Something jagged surged up inside me, and my chest went tight.
I understood—everything was decided now. If I stayed silent, if I turned away, if I started making excuses again, he'd come back. Completely. And he wouldn't leave.
My fingers loosened. The reins slid free.