18th December (Thursday), late evening

"That card blinked at me," I said, still staring at it, completely thrown off by what I'd just seen.

"That happens sometimes, right?" Shadow Sophie replied casually, though the tilt of her head said she already knew my answer. "Or… it doesn't, in your world?" she added, catching the look on my face.

"No," I said slowly. "Not unless they're magical and most things in my world aren't."

"I can assure you it happens here sometimes," she said, looking around my room. "You'll have to get used to it. What did you expect to find, anyway?"

"I honestly don't know, Soph," I admitted, still half-fixated on the card. "A man once asked me if my art ever dreams of me. I thought I might find the answer here."

Her brow furrowed. "Dream? What does that mean?"

"Oh, right," I said, snapping my fingers. "I forgot you guys don't sleep."

She blinked at me as if I'd just declared myself from another planet, again.

"You people drift when you're doing mindless tasks, right?" I asked.

"Yes, pretty much."

"What happens to your mind then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like… are you aware of what's going on around you or not?"

"Oh." She leaned back, thinking about it. "It's hard to explain. No scientist can, really. We're vaguely aware, like being in a fog, but time passes quickly. When we come back, we know what happened, like remembering something we didn't quite live through. It feels like an old memory we just… found."

"So if you were watching a series and drifted," I said, "you'd come back knowing what happened, but not having seen it happen?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Okay," I said, nodding slowly, "so dreaming is similar, but not quite. It happens when we sleep. We lie down, close our eyes, and 'wake up' hours later refreshed, though we're not aware of what's going on while it happens. Sometimes, during that state, we experience dreams—stories, situations, sometimes entire lives—that feel real while they're happening. But they only exist in our minds."

"So it's like the death effect," she said quietly.

I hesitated. "We only die once, Soph. Like your Rapture. Each death is permanent. I wouldn't know what happens beyond that." I took a deep breath, then followed with a heavy question. "You dream during your death?"

"I haven't died yet," she said with a faint, wry smile. "But I've heard of people experiencing what you just described."

Her eyes flicked toward the card again, still lying between my fingers, the painted eye watching us in perfect silence.

I turned it gently in my hand and for a second time, it blinked.

"How are you going to check if they dream about you, then?" Sophie asked, her voice cautious but curious.

"In our world," I began, "there's an assumption that our dreams and thoughts influence your world and that's why you undergo Changes." I felt a little pang of dread at dropping such a heavy idea on her, but though her eyes widened, she didn't panic. She just waited, listening.

"And," I continued, "we also think that inanimate objects, like this card, for example, change because of their counterparts dreaming in our world."

I walked over to the desk and placed the blinking card down gently, then reached into my holder and pulled out another one just like it. I set it beside the first.

"One of these," I said, pointing at the second card, "dreamt changes onto this one. Because I was the author of those changes."

Sophie leaned closer. "So they dreamt of you after all?"

"I'd say they just passed on the change," I said slowly.

"But they'd have to be aware of those changes first, right?"

"I don't know, Sophie. Maybe. Does that make them dream of me? I'd say it's not definite, but it's possible."

She crossed her arms and gave me a thoughtful look. "I'm no expert, but this whole 'Changes' thing you just dropped on me… oh girl, I could be famous for bringing it up." She laughed nervously. "But who'd believe me? That there's another world influencing ours?"

"There's a kicker, though," I said, meeting her gaze. "Yours influences ours as well. I'm sure of it now. Your Lex? She changed me. Since I developed my Domain, I've been doing things I'd never have done before. Other people have noticed it too. I just never realized there might be a person behind it all."

"Person?" she asked softly.

"I could show you, if you want," I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. "My Domain, that is."

"Of course! That'd be lovely," she said, her face lighting up with curiosity.

I stepped closer and touched her arm gently. A part of me hoped for more, some flicker of understanding from the world itself, but maybe that was too much to expect. Maybe my art wasn't ready to answer the question gnawing at the back of my mind. Still, I would keep making, keep testing, keep looking. One day, I'd get my answer.

"What's going to happen?" Sophie asked as I stood beside her.

"You might feel like something's pulling at you or nothing at all," I said. "Depends on whether you have some Authority in you. That's what we call magical power, the ability to shape things. But overall, I'm just going to teleport us into my Domain."

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She nodded, calm and trusting, and with a thought I drew Liora into the weave of my authority within my aura and brought all of us through.

There was no resistance. The world folded neatly around us, and then we were standing inside my Domain, bathed in that kaleidoscopic light that always made my chest tighten with something between awe and belonging.

Liora didn't wait. The moment we landed, he burst forth like lightning freed from a storm, streaking into the distance with that restless, joyous energy of his. I couldn't help but smile. His excitement was infectious.

But I stayed still and let Shadow Sophie take it all in. Her eyes moved slowly, tracing the air itself as though tasting its shimmer. Then they stopped on the Soul Core, its crystalline trunk now rising in a young, delicate tree form. She watched as ribbons of shadowlight wound up its branches, looping and spiraling before diving back into the glowing heart at its center.

Her gaze wandered next to the furniture and stations I'd brought here. My small, human touches amidst the surreal. She brushed her fingers over the leather of the couch, her expression softening at the texture. Then her eyes lifted again, tracing the statues that lined the edges, and the murals painted across the walls. The snapshots of places I'd captured taken directly from my spellbook, fragments of worlds and memories stitched together in color and light.

She didn't speak. She didn't need to. The wonder in her silence said everything.

I broke it first. "That crystal at the center of it all, that's what remains of your Alexa."

[There is also me,] Anansi reminded gently. I smiled faintly. She was right, of course, though I knew she was something different. An intelligence born of the original, stripped of her raw emotion and rebuilt through logic.

[I am working on that,] she added, a touch of pride coloring her tone. And she was. Every day, she grew more distinct, more alive. I was proud of her for that. But deep down, it wasn't Anansi who made me feel connected to the other me. It was the crystal, the quiet pulse of it, the way it stirred something wordless and human in me.

It's strange, isn't it? We always think words are what make us human—speech, reason, intellect—but in truth, it's the feelings that drive us, the emotions that shape our choices, that make us seen. Talking is just the echo of what the heart already decided.

"May I come closer to it?" Shadow Sophie asked, her voice reverent, almost hesitant. She was already raising her hand, her fingers trembling slightly as if trying to catch the drifting glow inside the crystal.

"Yes," I said softly. "Go ahead. You can touch it."

She moved with a sacred caution, each step slow and deliberate, like someone walking through a cathedral of light. And in a way, she was. If there were ever a god in this small, self-made universe, it wasn't me, it was the soul at its heart.

Sophie reached out, her palm finding the smooth, glasslike surface.

The moment she touched it, I felt it too. An echo deep within my own chest. Warmth rushed through me, gentle and golden, flooding my veins with something that felt like being seen, and being held at the same time.

It wasn't directed at me, not really. I knew that now. The warmth wasn't meant for the version of me standing here, but for the one sleeping inside the crystal. The one who had once been Sophie's Alexa.

"She was beautiful, my Lex," Sophie said quietly, pulling her hand away from the crystal. "She still is, but she also feels… whole now. Like everything that used to weigh her down has been lifted, taken care of somehow. You know what I mean?"

"I think I do," I said, my voice low. "But I'm not sure if that's good or bad for me."

"What do you mean?"

I looked at the soul core again—radiant, breathing color and light into the air—a living sunrise. Then, with my inner sight, I looked inward, at myself. A darker mirror: sharp edges, cold intent, a creature driven by necessity and thrill. "I need to be cruel sometimes," I said. "Cold. Detached. And that woman, the one shining through that crystal, she makes it harder for me. She makes me care about people I shouldn't care about. Strangers. Enemies. People who'd never lift a hand for me. That's a weakness in my world."

Sophie frowned. "That's a weakness? Really? The other world must be a dark place."

"I didn't mean the whole world," I said quickly. "Just the parts I live in. My corner of it. It's not all shadows, but it's no fairy tale either."

"I see." She paused, her expression softening. "You really think caring makes you weak? Because my Lex, she is one of the strongest people I've ever known." She hesitated, correcting herself softly. "Was."

"I understand what you mean," I said, my gaze still on the swirling light. "But for me… that kind of strength is a liability. What good is it to care so deeply that you throw yourself into danger for others? Maybe it makes me seem brave, even heroic, but inside? It just makes me vulnerable. Every person I care for becomes a target. A way to hurt me. And the more I let myself care, the more leverage the world has to break me."

"I obviously don't know you," she began, her voice warm but uncertain, "even though in some ways you're so familiar it hurts. And I'm not a preacher—never was—but one thing I did learn in my short life is that balance matters. In everything. So… try to find it, and I think you'll be golden." She said the last part with a little flourish, raising her voice exactly the way my Sophie would.

A laugh escaped me, small but genuine. "Seems like good advice," I said, studying her closely. "You know, before your girl had any influence over me, I don't think I'd have brought you here. Or maybe I wouldn't have even wanted to. It's getting harder to see where the old me ends and the new one begins."

"Why?" she asked softly.

"Because you're not my friend," I said honestly. "You just look like her. You share a heartbeat with her in ways I can't begin to understand. But back then, that alone would've been reason enough to stay away."

She smiled, something mischievous flickering behind her eyes. "Then I, for one, thank you for your growing weakness."

I tried to keep a straight face, but a laugh cracked through. It started small, then grew, echoing off the light-filled air until she joined in, her laughter bright and effortless. For a while, it felt like we were both laughing through the same person's mouth.

When the quiet finally settled again, she asked, "Is the other me happy?"

I thought about that for a long moment. "I think so," I said. "She was lost for a while. Thought less of herself because of it. Maybe that's why you changed, why the aging of the face happened. But she's finding her way now. Slowly." I tilted my head, meeting her eyes. "Are you happy?"

"Today I am," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "And I think I will be tomorrow too, now that I know what's really behind the curtain."

"I'll keep in touch with you, Sophie," I said softly. "It feels like the least I can do after… taking a friend away from you."

"She's still in there," Sophie replied, pointing toward the soul core, her voice filled with quiet conviction. "Let me visit sometimes, and that would be enough."

"I think I can do that," I said after a moment. "But right now, I want to work on my weapon. You can stay here and spend time with her or, if you prefer, I can send you home." I tried not to dwell on the thought of my doppelgänger, on how her presence inside me kept reshaping who I was in ways I didn't yet understand.

"Could I come with you instead?"

"You want to see?"

"Yes. You're… fascinating to me. My Ali never used weapons. You're like her—" she paused, grinning, "—evil twin."

"You hit closer to home than you think," I said with a smirk. "Good job. Come along."

We moved through the open light of my Domain until we reached a quiet, empty stretch. With a flick of my will, a smooth, obsidian podium formed before us. I placed the original Earth-made Noxy on top, its sleek Walther PDP Compact frame looking strangely mundane in this surreal space.

"It's a pistol?" Sophie asked, curiosity flaring in her tone as I reached deeper within my aura and summoned my Noxy, the dream-forged twin.

The moment it appeared, the air shifted. A faint magnetic hum rippled through the room. The physical gun on the podium began to tremble, sliding ever so slightly toward the summoned one, drawn together like celestial bodies caught in orbit.

"Yeah," I said, watching the metal vibrate. "From my world."

"It's moving," Sophie murmured, her eyes wide. "Is it supposed to do that?"

"Honestly? No idea. This is new territory for me," I said carefully, grabbing Sophie's arm and guiding her a few steps back, "I think we should move before they touch."

She nodded quickly, her gaze never leaving the two guns as they inched closer, the air between them starting to shimmer with a low, resonant hum that made the hairs on my arms stand up.

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