Silk didn’t know what to say. Not when two things were speaking over her head in voices they had borrowed. Not when the blood in the circle started moving with a will of its own, pulling the air tight and wrong.

When it turned, its body folding like silk, coming toward her, Silk pressed herself harder against the wall, breathing shallow. Her hand twitched near her hip, habit, not plan. There wasn’t a weapon for this. Even her shadow felt like it might betray her. Then she took a small, slow step sideways, hugging the edge of the wall, no sudden moves.

The mimic's lips moved. Her own voice echoed back, but wrong. Like it had been turned outside-in. In that not-face her own eye stared back at her. It got close enough to count her lashes. Something deep in her gut recoiled. "That’s close,” she mumbled. And when it spoke, the words meant nothing. Noise, scrambled broken-mirror nonsense. And still... it was her voice.

“.ƨmɿɘɈ ƨƨυɔƨib ƨυ Ɉɘ⅃”

“…Right. I don’t speak gargle and glass. I don’t know what you think you’re saying, sweetheart.”
 
The creature stopped, arms crossed like Silk did earlier. It didn't appear happy.
It didn't turn away from the girl as it found an acceptable solution:
„.ϱniƨooʜɔ ɿυoγ ʇo ɘmiɈ ɘʜɈ ɈA .υoγ ɿoʇ ob lliw I bnA .ɘm ɿoʇ ʞɒɘqƨ ,nib-mυlɘA“
The sentence was barely finished before Loneliness responded. „Accepted.“

Bloodsnakes no longer seemed to see Vyn's body as hostile. They parted to let her pass, coiling their forms into new symbols, new positions – a noose yet to tighten.

She had invested so much blood into this binding, and it went for the silly spy instead.
No matter! She will have Reflection owe her a favor, and that was not a bad trade.

„Reflection wants me to translate for you, mortal.“ Her voice was almost Vyn's, but it still needed some practice. Shoulders were still wrong, but shoulders were funny like that.
She failed to understand how Silk couldn't grasp the language. It was just backwards.
People walked backwards all the time – talking was no different.

She thought about asking it to help her remember more than just her name, but decided against it. Enough blood and time, and she could do so on her own. But there were many things only Reflection could do. This favor was best saved for such.

„.ƨɈimil ƨɒʜ ɘɔnɘiɈɒԳ .ƨnoiɈibnoƆ“ It said with a hint of Silk hostility.
„It wants the two of you to strike terms for the bond.“
 
“Terms?” she repeated, tilting her head like she hadn’t heard right. “No.”

She didn’t like being chosen for anything she hadn’t agreed to. She tried to step back again, heel brushing wall. No more room. No more exits. She hated that. Silk was trying to figure if she could jump the table, break the mirror, and gut the corpse-puppet on her way out.

Unlikely.

“I don’t want it's bond. I didn’t come here to shake hands with a mirror-ghoul. I came to watch you." She told Vyn-that-wasn’t. “You clean up your mess, let me walk out that door, and in return, I don’t drag every cursebreaker and ward-runner in this city back here to salt this place like bad meat.”
 
From the other side of the glass, Silk could hear her own laugh – cracked and hollow, rhythm all wrong. It was...amused. That seemed appropriate to the situation. She doubted this place had a cursebreaker of enough significance to even guess what Reflection was, let alone truly bind it. Salt and sigils on the other hand – those could hurt. But not for the reasons mortals thought.

Loneliness didn't like being stolen from. Especially not by lesser things. And she now eyed the one who threatened to rob her with something warmer than pity. She had no interest in the girl's fear, but she did enjoy the shape of it. The silence.

As her mind bled into the air, she turned to Reflection to see if it would stop her. The almost Silk turned to her, but made no motion against the idea. It was difficult to thread loopholes without breaking rules.

„There are rules that allow you to leave here unbound. But everything costs something.“
The fatigue had caught up and she forced the vessel to a sit. Joints bent in a way that would hurt tomorrow, but that was the binder's problem.
„Or you could try salt and sigils. Ropes of hair and ash. Those things have power.“ Her eyes focused on Silk.
„But not the kind you hope for. Not against something already inside.“

Voice was no longer trying to mimic Vyn, they were well past that. And, frankly, Loneliness was too tired for the effort. Speech became deeper. Darker. Male.

„You could walk out. And not be chased.“ Her body squarely on the floor, she found looking up at the other creatures funny.
„But it will take something. Not today. Not tomorrow. But someday, you'll reach for something and find it...“ She had trouble with the appropriate word. Then settled on one Silk would understand. „Gone.“
Her eyes went down the vessel's palm, the blood was starting to dry up. Bargaining was such a tiersome affair.

„You'll know it when you try to miss it.“

And then, with the softest touch and an alien voice.

„Unless you'd rather trade with me instead.“ The smile was all teeth and little else.
„A kindness. A lie. Tell Vyn I spent the night with someone. That I used her body the way she fears I might.“

Reflection did not stop her. The old rules still held. Good.

„She knows what they call me. And she's so afraid of being alone.“
 
"You keep talking like I asked for something...” she said, voice low and edged with flint. “I didn’t summon that!" The thing wearing Vyn shifted again, settling to the floor, limbs all folding wrong, the way no human ever would. The weight of the body hit the floor with a thud, but the way it sat, easy, like a drunk getting comfortable in a tavern corner.

“That’s rich. Coming from you, Loneliness." Silk continued, jaw tight. And then the voice changed of Vyn-that-wasn't, that in itself was a wrongness scraping down the spine. Deep. Dry. “Vyn said, she's not allowed to watch herself... That’s open to interpretation, isn’t it? Watching could mean a lot of things. So... You steal what you want from her anyway, say its a part of the pact and now you want to talk about bargains? Don’t stand there and piss on my boots about ‘cost’ and ‘rules’ like any of that means something to yer kind.” Silk continued, jaw tight. Why the hell would she make a deal with beings that breaks their own rules?

"I drew no sigils, I don’t owe you shit. And that means you don’t get to take anything.” They weren't thieves, they were fiends. Supernatural entities don’t get to just take something because they want it. That’s not how their rules worked, right? Right?!

"If the rules are real, you broke them first. If the price matters, then pay it yourself. But don’t you dare try and pass that debt off on me just because I was standing too close when your leash snapped!” She turned back to the mimic. “You want a payment? Invoice the idiot that drew your circle." She pointed to the Vyn-that-wasn't, to the borrowed Vyn, sitting there on the floor.

“That’s who opened the door. Not me.”
 
From the other side of the glass, Silk's own voice chuckled. The mirrored mockery flared something inside Loneliness. The other spirit chose to mock her. She understood bindings well enough to know which loophole Reflection would use against her.
Then came the words, slow and deliberate:

„qiʜƨɿɘnwo bɘinɘb ƨi ɘɿɒʇ ɘʜɈ ,qiʜƨɿoʜɈυɒ ƨɘinɘb ƨƨɘnɈiw ɘʜɈ ʇI“ Then came a long pause, before Reflection quickly snapped its Silk head to Loneliness.
„.ɘnolɒ ƨɿɘʜ ƨi Ɉi ,Ɉi bɘʜɔυoɈ ɘʜƨ ʇI .ɘɿυɈiɘʇɿoʇ bɘɿυɈɔυɿɈƨ ƨi miɒlɔ ɘʜT“ The tone was was smug. Certain. And it knew it got her. Then it stilled.

Loneliness blinked. Then sighed. She never expected Reflection to hold grudges. Still, she would remember the lesson. Her voice came tired and sour.

„Reflection says that if you deny the circle's binding, then it was never drawn for you. The debt lies with the one who made the door. Not the one who opened it.“
A small pause as her lips twisted like she bit into something overripe.
„If the witness claims no sigil, bond or fare – then none is owed.“
She looked away as she said it, jaw tightening. The rules were clear. Silk had wriggled out of it.

But Reflection had twisted the knife in her side. Made it personal. But there was no reason to account for failure. Because she still had a favor to spend.
She rose, slow and stiff, then looked at the mirror creature. Her voice jagged.
„My favor, then.“
Reflection paused, head took on an unnatural tilt, but it didn't refuse. It knew.
„I bind you again. Enough to feel the leash. You made this personal.“ Next came the words of binding.
Not in a known tongue, but in the mirrored cadence that Reflection understood.
The surface of the glass rippled once. The mimic stepped backwards, once, twice, and before long it melted halfway into the mirror. Then stopped.
A half presence. Caged. But not gone.

Loneliness felt the vessel cry for rest. So much had been spent for so little progress. She hated waste. The body exhaled in labored breath and leaned into the wall next to them. The container had never felt this small before. Her gaze drifted back to Silk. The spirit was fresh out of tricks and bindings. But she still had words.

„You win. You walk free.“ She scanned the girl for emotion. Could only see tension. Good. The thief had earned her break. And yet.

„Still... you could lie to her.“ Shoulders slumped by time and rules. She would prefer being bound to objects.
Objects didn't get tired. Her voice back to a weary echo of Vyn, because each difference took effort now.
„The world can be harsh.“ A pause to weigh and measure.
„It would be better if we weren't enemies.“ She didn't reach for sympathy. It was the truth.

The night was already a loss, but tomorrow didn't have to be.

„It would hurt less than the truth.“

The silence that followed wasn't a trap. Just a space. One the thief could choose to fill.
 
She watched the mimic slide halfway into the mirror, the surface rippling like water. Silk didn’t move directly. Just stood there, letting the shape of it settle in her mind. The laugh it gave, her laugh, was still ringing faintly in her ears, like the ghost of a bell.

Silk was acutely aware of how close the knife got. The thief let out a slow breath through her nose as the words settled, you win, you walk free. That was it. No blood price. It was over. Or as over as things like this ever got. She glanced toward the mirror the echo of the spirit still hummed faintly behind the glass.

“You want me to lie for you.” she said. She clicked her tongue and her gaze return to Vyn that wasn't. “I’ll lie. Sure. Tell Vyn you had your way with someone." The thief shrugged. “I don’t see why it matters,” she added. “Whatever was meant to happen here, it didn’t happen. And you are still breathing, far as I can tell.”

A pause, then a slight huff of breath. “You look like shit,” she said plainly. Vyn's body looked hollowed out. Used. “You need help getting somewhere, or are you good from here?” Even spirits had to crawl somewhere when the game ran out...
 
She looked at Silk and wondered where the calm came from. Like a lullaby, the victory made her distant, detached. And it made sense. Fear was gangrene. If that thing ever touched you, you cut it out. Better to have fewer parts than have someone else lay claim to what was still yours. If it took a cut for the thief to stay whole, that was admirable. Few people knew how to hold a knife when it had to turn on their own flesh.

„You and I will see each other tomorrow.“ Because no matter who wore the bones, it was Loneliness that lived in that left eye.

Her fingers reached for the polished mirror, just out of reach. It had been so close. No matter. Time guaranteed progress.

The Pale was already halfway across the room, opening the far door. Some color returned to her corpse cheeks as the flying apparition was relinquished. But it was never enough. Meat always got tired far too quickly.

A few uneasy steps, hands hugging elbows, and she was gone.

Let tomorrow bring what it wanted. She'd done enough.


*​


The morning was cold. But not of the fresh sort. Vyn woke with one boot on and a strange taste in her mouth. She could feel new hurts even before her mind could narrow down their placement. The body screamed, reporting. Hand cut, shoulder bruised, neck stiff, and joints rebellious – her first instinct was to stretch, but she didn't. Something cracked anyway.

The fingers still obeyed as she felt for signs of quieter damage. Loneliness was gone. Never fully. But quiet. She forced a sit. Every inch of her felt like it had been negotiated with.

„Silk?“ She said to the empty Wagon. „Silk.“ Voice growing firmer. Of course there was no response. For all the ghost stories, Vyn understood that an empty room never talked back when you wanted it to. And never shut up otherwise.

She stood up faster than she knew was smart. Stagger softened by the wall. She glanced to door, floor, the walls. Even the corners were still.

„Are you still alive?“

She hated how soft it made her. But she didn't take it back.
 
The window was cracked just enough for the morning breeze to slide in, pale, cold, and smelling faintly of chimney soot and the early smell of bread baking. From the outside, a voice answered. Muffled first, then clearer, like it had been waiting for her to notice. Silk sat on the gently sloped roof just past the sleeping loft’s window, knees drawn up and one arm resting lazily over her knees. Her voice floated down from above, faintly amused. A leg swung idly over the edge, dangled just outside the upper hatch, heels knocking gently against the curved trim of the vardo.

“Still alive. Disappointing, I know.”

She looked down into the wagon’s open window. Vyn’s silhouette, upright but shaky. Good. The morning breeze toyed with the fringe of Silk’s coat. Something about the thief looked younger in the daylight, or maybe just less hunted.

“You made it back,” she announced.

A moment passed. Then Silk's frame slipped through the window, one hand braced on the rim. She landed soft on the floor of the Wardo wagon, knees bent. She looked around before she straightened up. "And you’re alone.” She let the statement settle. And finally, her eyes landed on Vyn. Checking. Measuring. She didn’t ask how Vyn felt. Didn’t need to. It was written all over her.
 
The voice came too calm. Too casual for the hour. And it straightened her spine too quick, thick skull met bent beam overhanging the loft, reminding her of the error of her ways. Body gave up and toppled over, ass planting firmly onto the floor.

„Shit!“ Was all she could muster, mid collapse.

Rolled to a still with the grace of a sack of potatoes. New pains lodged in tandem with the old. So she allowed the floor to take more than just her dignity, settling into an uncomfortable rest. Wasn't sure if she was angry or relived. Both. Stared at the ceiling like it had betrayed her personally. Her jaw shifted, tongue checking her teeth were still in place.

In the haze of pain, Silk had moved inside. The woman was quick. Scarily so.

„Fantastic.“ Her healthier hand covered her forehead, rubbing at the temples. „Now everything hurts the same amount.“
 
Silk stayed near the window, one hand resting on the frame, the other tucked into her coat. Light slanted in sideways, catching on the sharp edge of her cheekbone, her eyes half on the camp outside. She glanced back just long enough to make sure Vyn was breathing, then returned her gaze to the world outside. Watching wagons rattle past, and a child trying not to cry.

Silk shifted her weight. Restless and already halfway gone. Then, almost casually:

"You want to know what she did?"
 
Vyn sat up slow, pulling her knees to her chest. Rested her head there. Arms wrapped loose around them, like she wasn't sure if she was meant to stay that way.

„Please.“

She didn't move after. Didn't blink. Just watched Silk, expectant. They both did.
 
“Alright.” A sigh, soft and dry. She turned from the window and leaned her back against the frame, one boot hooked behind the other, arms crossed.

“She tried to shake me. Right at the start. Had a tall fellow with a hood with her when she left the wagon." and he had probably armed to the teeth.. “They split.” Flat. Factual. Like reading off a list. She scratched her temple absently. “The tall one peeled off somewhere in the Gutter Walk. I didn’t track him. I followed her instead.” Shoulder lifted. A shrug more to herself than to Vyn.

“She turned on me.” A pause. “Summoned something... bird-shaped, big thing. It came at me fast... Tried to pin me to the cobbles. Missed. She wanted me gone. Or dead. Or both.” Now her eyes drifted back to Vyn.

“When I caught up again, she was in a room. Someone was with her. Doors shut. They seemed to know each other. The other woman called you Nib Mulea... Nimbulea or something like that.” It was the truth, more or less. That was the trick, wasn’t it? Tell enough truth and the rest fills itself in.
 
Vyn listened. Arms wrapped tight, head tucked. She didn't interrupt. Not even when it felt correct.

The story made sense. Of course it did. A humanoid pale, and another of the beastkin. Rooms and names unfamiliar to her. That part bothered her. The idea of her name being bartered by strangers in strange places. Nimbulea. A misspeak. Or a fabrication. But was it meant to throw off Silk... or Vyn? Still, it wasn't something she could chase down now.

Her eyes found Silk's as the tale reached an end. There were no cuts or bruises. No visible damage to the other woman. If Loneliness had really wanted her dead, it wouldn't have missed. Wouldn't have made it that easy. Vyn knew this like she knew old roads. And maybe Silk didn't. Maybe she thought she'd escaped. She'd won.

But Vyn had walked away from that same edge once. And she knew waht mercy from Loneliness felt like. It always cost something.

She didn't say that. Just sat up straighter.

„And that's everything?“
 
"I have nothing more to tell you."

Silk’s voice was flat as a piece of cut bread. A deal wrapped. The thief stepped away from the window, boots brushing soft against the wagon floor. Just assumed the conversation was over. One hand lingered by the door’s handle, fingers brushing worn iron like a habit. Like checking for traps no one had laid.

“If there’s nothing else...? I’ll be off." she wondered.
 
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