Finn Morrigan felt strange.

  This was, paradoxically, not unusual for him. After all, his younger sister had settled on joining the Alpheratz Knight Corps from quite a young age, while he himself showed no aptitude for sorcery and combat skills, nor any interest that could motivate him to overcome that.

  With each sibling living under completely different sets of rules, he was used to catching glimpses of things he found incomprehensible. Even at his fresh twenty-four years of age, he had reached a point at which any shock at magicians, monsters and such would fail to stick past an hour or two.

  Instead, the greatest surprise of his life would come not from that ridiculous side of the world he lived in, but from what was merely and entirely human. From the weird stranger, Nemesis… and from himself.

  Finn had never thought of himself as particurly fond of Ciara. She was born a little past his eighth birthday, so he retained somewhat clear memories of her earliest years. Back then, he felt as excited as most kids would feel at getting their first sibling, and just as normally, that enthusiasm gave way to apathy and occasional annoyance once the novelty wore off.

  He had to wait longer for bnder food, the baby cried in the dead of night when he had school the next day, his parents took him out less often. But he had heard of friends who had been made to change diapers and do their share of the chores, so Finn found his own experience rather bearable after some time.

  Problems did not come from when she was a baby, but rather when without any apparent reason, Ciara Morrigan became one of those ‘stick in the mud’ children. The type of kid who acted like, or rather wanted so badly to be an adult in their mind, if nothing else.

  She was far from intrusive about it, but the interest she showed in the conversations of older retives was on another level from what was spared for those her age, or even a few years older. He could not remember any times she brought a friend over, nor her asking for a ride to meet one.

  Her interest in sorcery, legends and events from that grander side of the world manifested way before he first noticed. And when the Second Camity marked a ‘before’ and an ‘after’, affecting people around the whole world, it was somehow Ciara who did not seem to panic at any moment.

  Finn also never hated her, and he knew the thought was beyond ridiculous after a mere half second of pondering. But there was something about the girl, a strange aspect of the people involved in the world of magicians and monsters, that he had never been comfortable with. This conflict within him grew further once they moved to Seyfelt, their parents forced to stay behind for the sake of their business.

  Finn and Ciara had lived by themselves for three years now. They watched shows and videos together, argued over meal preferences for the first time, groaned in annoyance at noise from mismatched sleep schedules. Two birthdays each, with a strange level of dedication from the other on each one.

  And across all that time, Finn’s concerns only swelled and became more complex. Unable to escape them by simply staying out for most of the day, he hardly gave it a thought when a friend offered him a taste of Oasis, or two alongside a pipe. He did not accept that offer, but was still selling for the Violet Thorn by the next week, seeking an extreme that might just mask his worries.

  The work was dangerous, perhaps more so from his own end than from the w’s. Even without taking the Unmasked into account, he heard of a ‘sales leader’ just above his station, who had mangled a snitch’s throat with an ice pick. Later on, after a client’s third attempt at shorting, he saw a dealer even newer than him light a cherry bomb up their nose.

  Despite that, his assigned tasks were easy. Whether or not it had an actual effect, he could at least try to rex by knowing such screw-ups were not his concern. Or so he thought, until that group of strangers started dealing with the Violet Thorn. Until the goods provided by those mystery people allowed them to succeed in previously unreasonable operations… Until pns to attack the Knight Corps facility materialized.

  Finn’s heart dropped immediately, and he knew why from the start.

  Sixteen years since Ciara had been born and three of them living only with her. Nothing about that time had managed to cure his worries, his fear of her. He had yet to enter her room once, made sure to cook all their meals, and only slept when she was out, or was convinced she herself was asleep. He had become convinced that no matter how much time they spent together, he would always see her as a magician, a knight or even a witch. He was a normal person, and she was some other.

  … But Finn now knew that no matter what, such an other was also his sister. The person closest to him, whom he had seen cackle at jokes that made his eyes roll. Someone who left even small bits of onion for st and swallowed with the most hiriously disgusted expression, who stayed up te studying matters beyond her cadet year ‘just in case’, who had left for a bathroom break in the middle of a movie so he would not see her cry.

  Finn feared his sister, but more so than that, he still loved his sister. A terrible danger now crept up on her, and he knew better than anyone that if he dared tell her about it, that responsible, brave sister of his would face that danger without faltering. She would get herself killed.

  He could not bear it the next time he saw her, waiting for his return home as always, no matter how te it was. Ready to thank him for the day’s food, comparing his haircut to another random pnt in the least funny way, roundabout and a tad embarrassed when asking for money to spend on more of those magic books.

  Finn needed to scream. He needed to cry and rage and hit something, but he could not. In the end, he did something worse, by thoughtlessly satisfying a curiosity that had been so small, so occasional.

  He tried a taste of Oasis, and then another. The drug of perfect worlds, allowing people to ‘live’ their fantasies. His memories on the matter were already vague, but Finn did not think the experience was that good a match to such a fantastic descriptor. Calling it a much more intense, almost on-demand version of lucid dreaming was closer to reality… and more than enough to hold him in the state he was.

  It was powerful stuff, so he only used in small amounts, but such casual precautions barely mattered. It was only a few days ter, when it was already time for the boss to get her cut, that he realized he did not have enough money to pay up, or enough product to sell.

  Perhaps yet to fully come down, Finn went along with the other Thorns giving him a ride to Epsilon Five. But even if he had been fully sober, he knew very well there was no other choice. He had no safe pce to run off to, and would have to bear his mistake on his own, lest the consequences spsh on Ciara as well.

  But he did not have to do even that, for he was saved not from his fellow dealers or some enforcer, but from the Unmasked Scar-Tail herself. The strange man cd in tattered armor, an obscure phenomenon some grateful denizens of Seyfelt had started to call ‘Nemesis’, had put his life on the line to give Finn another chance.

  Everyone who knew of his mistake had been taken by the police. Other Thorns had questioned him heavily about the event, how he wasthe only one to escape, but just that. Finn came back to what had become his daily life, with no immediate, direct danger to him.

  Why? Why him? How come such a cowardly man, unable to do anything meaningful, had been so sickeningly fortunate?

  The thought tortured Finn, even now. But there was something else, someone much more important than any horror he could have suffered.

  Ciara.

  Finn himself was worthless. Cowardly and pathetic, unable to fight back against the Violet Thorn, unable to take his sister somewhere safe. But he now knew of something he could do.

  He researched until far into the morning, wracked his brain to think up a coded message, and even endured the panicked nausea that came with briefly taking one of Ciara’s older sorcery books, all so he could draw his message in a nguage of strange symbols to hide it further. The digital art tool he had bought in a brief artistic spur had finally been of some use.

  He could not simply become miraculously unaware of what the Violet Thorn would do if they found him out, so there was a real possibility that his message would remain forever unread. But if by some chance, calling upon his luck from that night, Nemesis could find and understand it…

  Finn had found someone who might just be able to do what he could not. Someone who rather than save the worthless him, would save Ciara this time.

  He squinted his eyes for a moment. The cold breeze was almost painful rather than just annoying, enough so to snap him out of his thoughts.

  It had been around fifteen minutes since his unusual meeting with Nemesis. Finn had been puzzled by the man since that night at Epsilon Five, and while the viginte’s words were as strange as his actions, they could not have been more consistent among themselves.

  The redhead knew better than to simply take people at face value, but should the man truly be as he portrayed himself, the weirdness of the matter could not have been more welcome. On his walk back home after stopping only for a beer, he kept reprimanding himself for the myriad of positive thoughts the meeting had left him with.

  … But of course, assuming good results from mere promises and good attitude was just another way of blindly trusting people.

  Finn sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. If anything, he at least expected himself to be more resistant to such na?ve ideas. When his blue eyes opened again, he focused on his surroundings in an attempt to distract himself.

  The rather small park, barely sufficient in its size to allow for a satisfactory dog walk in two ps around it, was his favorite benchmark whenever he walked back home. And by ‘favorite’, it was more like it was the pce he had grown the most accustomed to and remembered most.

  Due to the coming winter, the trees had gone quite brown and the grass was scarce. The sound of the old fountain right in the middle of the pce was still barely audible, but the ck of people further added to the unique feel the park had compared to most days. It was not like some of the worse days, with only two or three maintenance workers around; rather, Finn could neither see or hear anyone else this time.

  But this was not the usual time of day he walked through the park either. Coupled with the season being what it was, it was not surprising he would sometimes be the only one present for a while.

  I wish at least the crepe seller was around.

  Finn felt a little disappointed, but it was no issue.

  While sometimes there were cooler sights and events about, the park was just another pce to cross on his way to the apartment, so he did not miss a beat as he kept walking. Closer to the sidewalk’s far edge, as usual. Looking for the occasional cool bird, as always…

  … So when did the whole thing become something that was not normal?

  The rustling leaves.

  The somber gap between far off trees.

  Maybe the steadily graying clouds, smothering the sun and drawing all color away.

  Seyfelt was a nighttime city, sure, but where were the cars and bikes? Traveling or even just parked?

  … What’s with me?

  Finn felt ridiculous as he noticed the shapeless unease assailing him. Doubly so as before he could think twice about it, he turned just slightly back for a peek, like many times he had feared the police tailing him.

  But he did not need more than that brief look to know, all that pursued him was his own, shadowy silhouette.

  “…”

  Finn walked faster.

  No one was following him, and he knew better than anyone that he cked any special intuition. He was a normal person, after all.

  And yet, he knew he was not overthinking anything. Unable to stop his shivering, a completely different sort from his meeting with Nemesis, he knew staying put, or even slowing down was dangerous.

  So he walked faster and faster, to the point he might shock the next passerby, if he even managed to come across one.

  The unpleasant presence only got stronger. Rather than the anxiety he felt from Ciara, this was closer to the times he woke up at midnight, before she was even born. Physical needs called, but the slight gap in the curtain let just a sliver of moonlight in, almost enough to see something crouching by the corner, waiting for him to try and walk out, run… or worse, turn on the lights, to fully see just what it was. It did not matter how much he needed to go to the bathroom, nor how painful it got; he would stay still and simply bear with it until morning.

  His current restlessness was so simir as to dig up memories he thought forgotten in vivid detail. As if the rest of the world had abandoned him, except for that something.

  Now panting erratically, Finn had no idea when he started running.

  He had left the park behind, ignoring his usual route home. It was far too dangerous, followed by a short, desote bridge, then a dipidated factory and more pces that seemed unsafe even on his normal walks. If he saw them now, if he dared traverse them…

  There was hardly a complex thought. Instinctively seeking any safety, Finn’s frantic trot had turned to a full sprint. On some level, he knew it was unreasonable to be afraid of just ‘nothing’, but he had long since passed the point of being able to ugh at himself.

  He just ran. His throat was hoarse and dry from the cold air, but he kept running regardless of discomfort. Pain.

  As many times as he could, Finn made sure he was not being followed. It was not even his first trip to Mageln, and he had no current business with the higher ups.

  Desperately, he told himself that he was not being targeted by some other lunatic. Shadow Spot, Last Empire or some other group.

  There was still no one around. It was not even evening yet, but every pce he ran past was absolutely barren. Almost like a movie, one he had been unwittingly trapped in. The familiar ndscape of the city did not feel real anymore, more like an imitation in a mirror or picture frame that he was finally seeing from the other side.

  “…?”

  At st, for no apparent reason, Finn stopped. His ‘destination’ was… a very normal street. One he did not recognize at first for how ordinary it was, no different from the many he crossed every time he went around the city.

  He only realized after a few seconds, that he was now only a couple of blocks away from the knight facility, seemingly having traced the path he took to meet with Ciara a few times. Was that… the reason he had come here?

  … Ah, that’s right…

  He pondered for a second, and then began to chuckle as he became aware of something hirious.

  The slight chuckle gradually became full-blown ughter, forcing him to bend and seek extra support from his legs. A cackle that was clearly his own, but still sounded like someone else’s, as if he was an actor throwing their voice.

  Finn ughed more, much to the suffering of his sore throat. Standing back up straight, he brought a hand to his face and felt hot tears on his palm. Crying, trembling, he still ughed.

  He was running so hard, for so long. His usual route home seemed dangerous, so he ran for anypce that seemed even a bit safer.

  Now, he finally realized…

  … They were on him the whole time.

  The alien mass burst forth. Like bck leeches, like eyeless worms. Like thousands of maggots, like wiggling, living filth and parasites and tar and—

  For a split second, he had managed to see them so closely. Then, it was only the unique sensation of his eye colpsing, all the while so many of those invaded the soon to be vacant socket.

  “——…!!”

  Finn could barely hear his own screaming. They had already gone for his ears, and the one that did not have its eardrum crushed yet could only register an incessant, wet, almost chirping noise.

  Agony radiated from his right calf, his left knee and ankle, his waist, lower back…

  He crumpled to the ground, desperately hitting an arm on the pavement to shake off the ones that were there. Beyond the pain, it was losing feeling on each finger, one by one, that razed his mind.

  They’re chewing through. They’re getting inside. They’re inside inside inside inside—

  He could not feel those in his hand, but he knew. He somehow knew perfectly well what they were doing.

  His remaining eye darted around desperately, catching glimpses of them around so much of his body. When he was much younger, he had accidentally seen shock videos with maggots in them, but now it was different.

  They were so small, so indistinct. The details he had briefly noticed when they were so close were now invisible, but none of that mattered.

  They pierced all the same, they burrowed all the same, they slid within him all the same, they bit and chewed and chirped and squirmed and there were so, so, so, so many of them.

  Ah, the Oasis had really done a number on him. Deyed effects, he had heard and read of such things occasionally. Weird side-effects, the drug was making him hallucinate.

  All was good. Evening was yet to come, so he had time to pick something up for both him and Ciara. She liked—

  Hurts.

  —didn’t she? He had found an obscure show recently, so weird but so good and she would definitely—

  It hurts. Stop.

  —out of her seat. But he had sweat so much today, he would have to shower before ying on the couch or anything like—

  Why? Why does it hurt so much?

  —say good night, go back to his room and rest rest rest rest, he just wants to rest and rex and sleep and wake up breakfast for Ciara Ciara—

  Stop. Stop. Stop already, anything, just stop please it hurts hurts hurts so much just stop please!

  Finn filed and struggled and screamed again and again, his voice gradually sounding even fainter, like something far away. He felt them settle in his mouth too; his lips, his tongue, his pate and throat. Even so, he knew the reason why was something different, and even more terrifying.

  The fact he had yet to fully pass out may have been his own fault. In his anguished struggles, clinging to consciousness with every bit of effort he could muster, he knew he was only allowing the torment to st even longer. And yet he also knew that if he did not endure it all, if he let himself lose consciousness… He might not wake up ever again.

  It was slow, it was painful, and no matter how much he told himself that, how much he used that very suffering to try and keep himself aware; Finn found the vision in his one remaining eye darkening by the second, right as he somehow noticed something that stood out even now.

  The things voraciously ravaging his body had not spared him a second, but he also saw them right ahead. In a number that was much greater, enough to make the current Finn shudder more, though they did not approach him. Instead, they swirled with that incessant chirping noise, converging in some sort of denser structure. Finn looked further up, and he instantly regretted it.

  Such oily colors. The rgest one was such a dark red it was almost brown, while another was closer to a deep crimson color, with lighter tube-like endings on certain parts. Two were longer, connected and pink, while the one at the top was also matted with white, red and even some bck along its many folds. The increasing amount of bck vermin, small enough to almost look like smoke or mist at this distance, squirmed and wrapped around them like yer upon yer of fascia.

  This, coupled with their pulsating, futile-looking activity, let Finn know they were the throbbing organs of something still living. The chirping continued and became louder, piercing… somehow, more coherent.

  “—s what was going on? —bad, bad. Now… —that phone you got—”

  Like fog, like haze, like a bck miasma, more and more of the wriggling somethings joined in, steadily forming a more concrete, humanoid silhouette almost as if drawing it; sketching a garbled parody of a man, monochrome aside from the slimy organs yet to be fully covered.

  The st thing Finn Morrigan saw was the fizzing figure stepping forth, its aberrant nature only briefly matched by its movements, and reaching for the pocket he wanted to expose the least.