Luna's POV
???
"Regina? ..Huh—where am I?"
I tried to stay still—or maybe I only believed I was still. Slowly, I realized: this was not a space. Not a void. Not even me.
There was nothing. Not emptiness, not shadow. Nothing—but also something.
My mind strained, snagging against it.
My brain? Where is it?
█████.
"Who's there?" What...
No voice. Instead, information was handed to me—like a memory recalled, though I had never lived it.
█████, ███ ██████ ████████ █████████.
"What are you saying?! Who are you? What am I? Where am I? Is this even a place? How—how am I?"
Mésos' POV
The troll was feasting on a soldier's remains when I struck. My blade slashed across its hide.
It shrieked, gore dripping from its fangs, and swung a massive arm.
"Ugh!" The blow crushed into my side, flinging me into a tree. Pain tore through my skull, my vision swimming.
The troll fixed on me now, its thunderous steps shaking the ground. Yellow teeth gnashed, still caked with flesh.
I staggered upright, choking down bile.
Everytime it feels like dying anew. Not something I can get use to.
I dove aside, snatching up a battle-axe—an arm still clung to the haft. I tore it free, sprinting deeper into the forest.
"This way, idiot!" I shouted, and the beast gave chase.
We broke into a clearing. The troll's roar split the air as it charged.
I dodged again—but it anticipated me. A fist clamped around my leg.
"No—!"
The world spun. I slammed into the ground. My grip on the axe slickened with sweat and blood.
Pain screamed through my knee. Desperate, I twisted mid-air, swung, and buried the axe deep into its shoulder.
The weapon stuck. The troll roared, tossing me away. But the wound gaped, refusing to close.
Gasping, I forced the words out:
"I have spilled blood. I demand you do the same. I impose this by my power—and in witness of this plane."
איזון(Izzun)
The world shifted to make space. The troll staggered, collapsing. The wound bled freely. Its knee twisted grotesquely, a mirror of mine.
It crawled toward me, howling—
Crunch!
Its skull burst beneath the axe it had discarded.
I blinked. A figure stood over the corpse.
"Were you responsible for the toxin?" I asked. "The gas. The carnage."
"Fascinating," they said. Their voice was smooth, strange. "You stripped it of regeneration. How did you do it?"
A knife appeared in their hand with a lazy flick. They wore an elaborate jester's motley and a plague doctor's mask. The air smelled suddenly, sickly sweet.
"Hmm. Would you indulge me a question?" Their tone was playful, almost childlike. "I am simply enchanted by medicine, disease, contagion—ah! My name. You must know my name. I am Schwarzer Narr."
"Answer me first," I cut in.
They tilted their head, crouching to poke at the troll's corpse. "What is it, then?"
"What did you do to the Commander—why did he stab Sir Derek?"
Narr straightened. "Oh, you noticed? You are the only wrong that think the act worth performing." A magician never reveals their tricks.
They stepped close, their knife idly twirling. "Curious. You are healing… yet everything else rots. Intriguing."
The blade flashed down, stabbing above my half-healed knee.
Pain surged white-hot.
"This excursion," they mused, withdrawing the knife, "is far more interesting than I expected. Märchen was right. Even they didn't foresee this."
I lunged with a concealed blade.
Narr danced back, laughing. "Careful! Sharp things cut."
With a theatrical bow: "Well, the curtain falls. May we meet again, Mésos. And next time—answer my question."
A puff of green smoke. Gone.
They knew my name.
I forced myself upright, blood dripping.
"…Intriguing."