What the… Lera thought, frozen as the web of radiant stones uselessly fell apart.

  She was too shocked and weakened to react, and everything happened too quickly. Her resolve was still broken by the Guilt, and her reserves were exhausted.

  A burning, searing pain pierced her as the woman in front of her suddenly removed her hand from her freed neck and pressed something against Lera’s throat. Shocked, she cried out and tried to retaliate. As she desperately attempted to focus on the Holy Circle with her last shred of concentration, the pain intensified beyond comprehension. She was driven away from her symbol of hope and guidance, forced back like a kicked animal. Her arms went completely limp, dangling uselessly at her sides. Her whip slipped from her hand and fell with a dull thud onto the smooth ground. Lera barely noticed it. It felt as though thousands of needles were piercing every part of her skin, her flesh, and her soul from where the Possessed touched her.

  She had only felt such pain once before.

  Images stabbed into her mind, ones she had tried to forget, locked away, now skinning her mental fortification apart and invading her thoughts, sucking her hope away like billions of disgusting, reeking leechlice.

  Then Lera felt something hard and burning, growing rapidly from where the Possessed’s hand touched her. It soon encircled her neck with something rigid, searing her skin.

  “Shhh… wait. I’ll give you a little rest, so you can understand what I’ve done,” the Possessed whispered, smiling. For the first time since they met, it was sincere. The expression was so saturated with sadism that Lera cried out in panic.

  Gradually, the pain subsided, and Lera’s mind cleared slightly. Her surviving Nightmare Hunters, still scattered around her, were preparing to charge at her and the Possessed. She did not know whether they would help or try to wake them both. A cloud of black mist poured from the woman’s dark hair, forming long, thin needles that sucked away all warmth around them. They pointed outward, threatening the remnants of their unit.

  “Stop…” Lera gasped, though speaking grew increasingly difficult as pain and darkness surged within her once more.

  “I don’t think you have anything left to say, my sweet dear,” the Possessed whispered, grabbing her by her tattered hair and lifting her up.

  She smiled briefly. Then all emotion drained from her face, and her eyes filled with horrid judgment.

  The needles shot out.

  Lera wanted to scream as the bodies around her were torn apart. She wanted to stand, to grab her whip, to punish and destroy this abomination she should never have kept around. Terrible shapes and glowing colors flared as her loyal followers dissolved and awakened from the Dream, leaving only shredded uniforms behind.

  Then there was silence.

  Only the quiet wind wheezing across the smooth plain and her own jagged breathing.

  No. That didn’t happen…

  It had.

  She was alone.

  Truly alone now.

  No one left to help her.

  No one left who cared.

  I was responsible for their safety! We had won! Didn’t we win? I had won… How…? Aldred, Nuta, Beri… all of you… no… no… NO…

  Filled with terror, Lera’s eyes widened as silent tears flowed freely. She could not sob or utter a prayer for her followers, as waves of darkness continuously numbed her insides, freezing her with the terrible truth. Had the Deepest still been there, it would likely have absorbed all her grief and guilt as her mental barriers finally collapsed and her guilt washed her away.

  Yet it was no longer around.

  It lay dead on the ground and—

  “Come back!” the Possessed suddenly barked, removing her hand from Lera’s neck, though the pain still remained.

  To Lera’s horror, the carcass of the Deepest twitched, then rose again, torn apart and bleeding. Its face was still marked by hollow eye sockets, its smile a fa?ade masking something deeply unnerving: terror.

  Wheezing, its wounds began to mend, the body healing as much as reinstating its rotten form could be called healing. The creature quickly averted its gaze from the Possessed.

  It knelt and bowed its head before her, then uttered three terrible words:

  “As you wish.”

  The Possessed shrugged and addressed Lera with a wink, mocking. Yet her eyes were piercing, sucking in all around her in horrid thirst. Thirst for revenge, perhaps, for Lera’s suffering, and for more.

  The ground beneath Lera’s knees felt like it was giving way. In her Inner World, there now was nothing below, only a horrid abyss. Eternal void, an expanse beyond comprehension. Within it, faint movements stirred. It was worse than what she had felt last time, back when she and Kelwin had been on their way to Immesh.

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  And now the abyss flickered in the Deepest’s eyes close by, lifeless and more eternal than they had ever looked before.

  The Possessed nodded toward the Guilt, but still fixated on Lera. “You see… Exorcist Lera, this one was mine. Did you not realize? I didn’t either until just now, until it revealed itself to me. Yet you? Shouldn’t you have known what the Nightmares are?”

  Her sweet voice sounded genuinely surprised, the surging condescension in her gaze laced with silent triumph.

  “What… how,” Lera managed to utter as vertigo and cold spread through her Inner World, numbing her, the abyss taunting before it slowly closed once more.

  “What… how…” the Possessed mimicked her, mockery and delight dripping from her words. “So you do not know. Peculiar. Did I understand because of what you did to me, or because of… it? Ever since that abyss hit us, I have felt it within me. Echoing. Stirring. Sometimes I think a part of it was always with me, sleeping. Whatever the case, it helped me endure the pain and misery you all caused, and it aided Uda in keeping me at least a little sane. Also, it made me curious. I wanted to know. To understand. The Seed and this Guilt here. Onwards. More. Get treasures back from the gorging void I feel: My personal adventure.”

  Her voice had lost all mockery. Now she simply explained things, as if reciting the basic rules of some twisted game they were about to play.

  “And I did understand: This Deepest is mine. Born from my trauma. The trauma you caused. It is a part of me, the same way my arms are part of me, perhaps even more.”

  She leaned closer.

  “I understood you too. While you fought it, while it attacked you, it tore into your core. And because I am it, so did I. And now that I am free of that necklace, I can finally see what it saw. In you. Your guilt…”

  Without warning, words echoed through Lera’s mind. Sentences she had wanted to forget.

  Why… why, Lera… Why… why did you let me wake up…? Why did you not protect me…?

  It was not one voice, but many. Cal and Ai. Aldred and all the others.

  “Nooo, stop!”

  The Possessed nodded. She smirked, delight flashing in her crimson eyes, then it vanished, replaced by something alien. She wrinkled her forehead, paused to ponder, then raised the fist still drenched in blood, revealing something within.

  A dark crystal.

  A shadow crystal…!

  “How did you—” Lera tried to say, though pain and guilt overwhelmed her, forcing a cry from her throat.

  “Well, my dear… I ripped it out of this Nightmare. My Nightmare. It was its plan, you see? My plan, in the end. To get free. To get revenge. On you. On all of your kind. These crystals of shadow, their hearts, are the essence of each of them, the mirror to those fucking stones you adorned me with. They are of the same material as that Seed is made from, over there, raggedly climbing the horizon." She nodded towards the twisted structure in the distance, likely not seen by anyone before as no one had dared to go this far beyond the Shields. "So I used it to return the favor…”

  Her voice wavered, hissing like a crevicesnake. Her eyes flared with hate again, and she spat into Lera’s face. Then the Possessed composed herself, turning calm again in a heartbeat. Too calm.

  “I love hating you. But it can wait. You are mine anyway. I have... got you by your throat...”

  No! What did she do? What is this around my neck?

  Lera raised her hands again, managing to reach her throat despite the sluggish darkness in her thoughts. Her fingers touched something smooth and searing. A broad ring of stone-hard material was tightly wrapped around her neck, seamless and unyielding, like a collar.

  “How do you like it? I must admit, I feel a little bad. After all, the necklace you gave me was so pretty, wasn’t it? You told me you thought it was wasted on me. I assumed you were jealous, so I made you something similar. Beautifully black. Don’t you find it even a little… exciting?” the Possessed whispered, blowing her a mocking kiss.

  “Take it off! You little possessed bitch! FUCK YOU! I will—”

  Countless fine needles erupted from the dark collar and tore into her flesh. The pain cut into her soul far beyond what should have been possible. Muddy Lucidity invaded her, violating body and spirit alike. For a moment, she feared, or hoped, that she would retreat into herself completely, or wake up.

  Then the pain receded, cruelly denying her, leaving her conscious.

  The Possessed reached out and slowly brought her hand to Lera’s head. She patted her, then stroked her hair with exaggerated softness. The motion was rhythmic and mechanical. Lera realized something that made her wince: It was merely a performance.

  The hatred in the possessed woman in front of her was only partly real. Most of the time, however, the Possessed did not truly care about Lera as a person, only as an oddity she had found by the roadside. Yet she continued the farce, and for a terrible moment Lera felt as if part of her wove itself into the woman’s words.

  “Aww… my dear… someone still doesn’t understand the situation they’re in. Don’t worry, we have time. I’m so excited! This will be fun, and it will take as long as it takes. As long as you make it take. So let’s begin your training. You need discipline, don’t you? Or perhaps far more than a little.”

  She smiled. This time it felt real again, and Lera almost sighed in relief, hating herself for it. Because she recognized herself in the mockery.

  Finally, the Possessed straightened up. “First… I’m Nia. And from now on, you are… well, I think you should choose. I can sense your desperation, your collapse. Make no mistake, I only triggered it. You made it go off the rails. So tell me: What should I call you?”

  Lera spat at her, or thought she did. Wished. Yet soon she realized her mouth had not moved, only sobs escaping it.

  You woke us… You betrayed us… worthless… little… worthless…

  Cal appeared in her Inner World, his body broken. So did Ai. Aldred. Nuta. Others.

  “I am a worthless… piece… of shit… filthy…” She heard her own voice say it. She did not want those words escaping her wet bleeding lips, but the visions forced them out.

  Then she gave in.

  “I am… trash.”

  The Possessed... no, Nia, said the word at the same time as Lera and smiled briefly. Satisfaction flickered in Nia's eyes, not only at breaking her, but at having predicted her choice.

  “Very good, trash. Trash… yes, that fits. You’ve understood yourself a bit better. Not as much as I understand you now, but I won’t be unfair! You didn’t have the abyss on your side. You ran from what I dove into after it called for so long,” Nia cooed. “And though you still don’t grasp much about yourself, I will teach you. Starting with this new name. Not a real name, of course. Real names are for those whose choices still matter.”

  Lera wanted to respond, yet images of her torn-apart Hunters surged back into her mind. Convulsions wracked her body as more sobs escaped her.

  I lost everyone again. To a Nightmare. Again. AGAIN!

  This time, no one was there to save her. Exorcist Corf had not been seen for Thousands. High Exorcist Ace Mei was far away. No one remained who believed she might prevent Nightmares from possessing people.

  Her path to glory and success had ended.

  Nia was right.

  I am trash.

  Lera screamed inwardly, though only a gagging sound escaped her lips.

  “What’s your name?” Nia asked with a smirk, grabbing Lera’s muddy hair and lifting her chin, forcing her to look into glowing crimson eyes, contempt and thirst for revenge burning within them. And calm curiosity.

  One last time, Lera hesitated.

  I am an Exorcist… was… I am…

  But those words were no longer hers. They were just hollow phrases. No, worse: They now were lies.