The fog shivered, restless, brushing their coats. Luke's question it balanced there, like a coin spun on its edge, waiting to fall.
Vencian stared at him. His mind went blank for a second before rationality took over. "You're not real."
His voice came out rough but certain that he was right. But why does it 'feel' so real?
Luke tilted his head. "You know better than that. You built lies from illusions. You know what real feels like. So tell me—do I feel fake?"
Vencian shook his head. "You're a residue. That's all."
He denied again, refusing to acknowledge what his doppelganger was saying and started looking around. He couldn't sense Quenya's presence like he can usually do.
Is this another dimension inside that dimension?
Luke took a step closer. His shoes made no sound. "You think changing your name fixes anything? You're still alone when it counts. Acting like solitude's a choice doesn't make it true."
