Clarisse couldn’t remember how long she had been out, but her first sight upon waking up and lighting a small flame to illuminate her surroundings was not comforting in the least. The redhead let out a gasp as she beheld a ragged, burnt frame of a hollow crawling out of the debris just a few feet in front of her.

  “Good, you’re alive,” Nikolas coughed, dragging himself into the clearing. The way he shambled forwards, like a pile of broken sticks being dragged by the wind, left an utterly revolting sensation in the mage as she scampered back.

  “–Don’t kill me! Please, I won’t tell anyone! I swear!!” Clarisse cried out, clutching to her backpack and curling into her best imitation of an overgrown, yet underripe tomato.

  “Hey– I would never…” Nikolas paused, watching her shiver vividly in fear. He tried to get up, but his legs refused to cooperate, mechanically, at least. He let out a frustrated sigh, turning over to pop a knee back into place and twist his ankle back into the direction it should normally bend in. “That party is gone, we can get out of here now, Clarisse.”

  Clarisse remained a quivering mess, turning sideways and tucking herself into the smallest form she could muster. She looked at him from the corner of her eyes, finding it hard to form words.

  “What?” Nikolas was confused to say the least, he could hear her heart pounding non-stop as she waited for him to make a move, still mumbling for mercy. “It’s not that bad, alright?”

  “You. She’s afraid of you.”

  “. . .?”

  “How foolish…”

  “Care to stop being cryptic?”

  “Who wouldn’t be afraid? A monster from the royal court of Atraxia just reveals himself and slaughters a full party of capable adventurers without so much as breaking a sweat.”

  “... Shit.”

  “Yes, now you realize it. Did you not consider that before unleashing our strength?”

  “The mask was already broken, and you weren't doing me any favors in restraint.”

  “And what now? Will you entrap her, knowing she will betray you when freedom is in sight? She might tell the holy order, or return home to rally an entire city–”

  “Shut it. Clarisse isn’t trapped, and she wouldn’t do that.”

  “And you’re ignorant of the power you wield even as you do it.”

  “. . .”

  “Your silence sickens me. You know I’m right, so why are you fighting it!?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “What doesn’t matter!?”

  “Whatever she wants to do… it’s her choice.”

  “Don’t let emotions cloud your judgement.”

  “No. She can choose what to do from here. It really does not matter. She’s fine…”

  “And if she chooses to purge us? Will you kill her, just like you did the others?”

  “. . .”

  Nikolas finally paid attention to himself. His clothes hadn’t finished putting themselves back together since the explosion. A charred disposition showed through the gaps, full of scars and boils and skin which had burnt and fallen off… It painted a gruesome image of him. And then there was his helmet, a mere facade to who he really was. A lie that he paraded around for the sake of mystery, appropriating the features of another race for his own ends.

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Let me take over.”

  “No– you just got out back there, and look at the trouble we’re in now!”

  “She’s half afraid to death, and you’re being a bumbling idiot. Let me take over and I’ll get us out of here.”

  “Without hurting her–”

  “Fine, without hurting her. I’ll even do you one better, I’ll explain what the hell we are.”

  “I suppose I could let you.”

  “Sit tight.”

  “Don’t enjoy yourself too much.”

  Ripping off the helmet and letting it clatter to the ground, PH:OV forced himself up, broken bones and all. “Oi! If you don’t want to die here, alone and in the dark, follow,” He commanded Clarisse, before picking up his backpack and trudging up the mineshaft with rickety clacking of bones heralding each step. “Oh, and bring the helmet with you!”

  Clarisse remained in her armadillo-like state for a little longer, hearing the hollow’s footsteps grow fainter by the moment. Once she felt like he was far enough away, she finally let herself sit upright. A small orb of fire illuminated her surroundings again. A wall of debris lay behind, blocking the path to where she had watched Nikolas go on a veritable rampage not too long ago. Ahead was the path to that very monster, who had for some reason left her alive. And alongside her was the fox-eared mask, the remnant of someone she had thought was her friend.

  PH:OV stood around the bend of the corner in the mineshaft with his arms crossed, watching & waiting. When Clarisse finally summoned the courage to stand and approached him, his only reaction was abject disappointment.

  “I gave you a helmet, not a bomb,” PH:OV chastised the way she held the race appropriation tool meekly in her hands rather than put it on. “Wear the damn thing. It’s only an emotion and power dampener."

  Clarisse almost jumped back when he scolded her, still quite on edge from before. She glanced down at the helmet, confused why he constantly wore a suppressor of any sort willingly. Normally, this was where she would have had some questions, but the scowl on PH:OV’s face dissuaded her from disobeying. Hesitantly, she undid her twin ponytails and lifted the helmet onto her head, letting the magic take over.

  The changes were both numerous and immediately apparent to Clarisse. The interior of the mask was almost entirely transparent, creating a strange translucent veil where she had expected her vision to be blocked. Accompanied with her new visual array was the strange feeling of her ears being shifted away from the sides to the top of her head, and becoming particularly easier to maneuver. Finally, her anxiety at being around the Atraxian Jester subsided. It wasn’t as if she felt comfortable, however, more akin to nothingness. That was all she felt, a profound void of intense emotions, as if her individuality was being stripped away with every passing second. And yet, she was content with it.

  “N-Nikolas…” She began, confused on where to begin.

  “It’s PH:OV for now,” The hollow corrected her before continuing to climb up the mineshaft, and gesturing for her to follow. “The parasite is taking a backseat.”

  Clarisse furrowed her brows, taking offense to Nikolas calling himself a parasite. “Fine, PH:OV…” She caught up to him with quick steps. “Y-you mentioned being something other than a hollow back there. So, what are you?”

  “PH:OV… Prototype Homunculus, the Original Vessel,” PH:OV elaborated, speaking slowly in a strange combination of listless pride. “Or at least, that was what I was supposed to be.”

  As much as Clarisse wanted to empathize with his apparent regret, there was much the redhead was still curious about. “A homunculus? I’ve never heard of something like that…”

  “Of course you haven’t!” PH:OV scoffed at first, but his tone dipped back towards frustration almost immediately. “This body was the first to survive Father’s procedures… and yet, it fell short of perfection,” He glanced at Clarisse to gauge her reaction, but was met with the irony of the same unreadable mask Nikolas would usually hide behind. “It would be too forward of me to define a homunculus. I am a lab experiment, an accident that Father sought to recreate.”

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  “You– You were pretty powerful back there.” Clarisse commented, careful to choose her words in the wake of the prideful homunculus.

  “Indeed… however, I must confess, I am part hollow too. Much more fragile than I used to be...” PH:OV continued, his lips curling into an ever so slight smile upon receiving the compliment. “Father’s vision of the homunculus was the perfect, immortal being. Yet, I did die. Such is the plight of a prototype. Forever flawed…”

  Clarisse had no words for him this time. The mere idea of a hollow would have sent her into a fight or flight reaction, but the emotional suppression of the mask kept her focused on the moment.

  “The flamboyant pyromancer was right. Hollows are indeed the scum of the overworld. Undead beings brought to life, sometimes by necromancers, sometimes by their own tenuous grip on life. But they are only hollow shells of themselves, not people who can make choices,” PH:OV monologued, something which seemed to come naturally to him. “Atraxia denied us from judgement, leaving us to remain in limbo after death. And so, we made the only choice we could to continue to make more. We struck a bargain with a god.”

  The gap in knowledge between them became more apparent to Clarisse, who could not keep up with his explanation all the way through. But, out of all of them, the last word stood out. gods. They invoked an almost reverential fear in her. She’d known and worshipped a few gods in her life, but the idea that PH:OV had actually talked to one was certainly… something to her. “Which… god did you talk to?”

  “Shakuni,” PH:OV replied with a distinct distaste in his voice. “A real piece of work. One of the few things Nikolas and I agree on is that he’s a sniveling asshole.”

  Clarisse’s emotions bled through the helmet’s suppression, making her flinch like an abused animal when she heard him insult the god. “D-Don’t say that out loud! What if he gets angry?? I don’t know about him but still–!”

  “Calm down, princess,” PH:OV dragged out a sigh, glancing up at the earthen ceiling above them. “We are his jester for a reason. But more importantly, we are his avatar.”

  “An avatar!? Aren’t they the… the mortal representatives down here in the overworld?” Clarisse piped up, they were back to a topic she’d learnt over the course of her childhood. There was still an air of disbelief around the redhead despite everything she had just seen. “Avatars, like the greatest leaders and mages a-and champions in history? Almost all of them have been avatars of gods!”

  PH:OV glanced at her with a bland expression, nodding quietly with her rendition. “Yeah, that kind of avatar. This is what being Shakuni’s avatar entails… life as a hollow with almost all of its downsides stripped away.”

  “Almost all? You can think, talk, make choices like a real person…” Clarisse implied in a confused tone.

  “Do you recall why hollows are called by their name?” PH:OV asked, his tone implying that was where the answer lay.

  Clarisse nodded, she remembered it from their day visiting the library. “They don’t have souls. Only physical bodies, like hollow shells.”

  “Well, we don’t have ours either.” PH:OV’s expression hardened as he elaborated. “It’s not destroyed the way a hollow’s would be, but Shakuni has it. He only left us with its carapace.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that…” Clarisse replied, her heart sank for the homunculus.

  “Don’t pity me!” PH:OV barked, suddenly changing the mood of their conversation. “Between Seraphim and that buffoon, there’s already enough weakness to go around.”

  “O-okay…” Clarisse almost jumped back at his anger, and her fox ears on the helmet dropped flat. For a moment she had thought that PH:OV and Nikolas were similar in the ways they articulated themselves, but trying to be kind to him only gave her a painful reminder.

  “There is one, and only one reason you’re still alive.” PH:OV grumbled, glaring at her with a side eye which felt like it could kill by itself.

  Clarisse stopped in her tracks, unsure if she wanted to ask him to elaborate further on that.

  “I have been stuck with this parasitic, altruistic, pacifistic coward in the back of my head since the day I died,” PH:OV grumbled, putting his disdain for Nikolas on show. “Three years, I’ve been trying to find what makes him tick, and then you come along,” His eyes narrowed on the redhead, piercing through the windows to her soul. “Knowing you were in danger made him angry, made him lose control, even if ever so briefly. That’s why I’m letting you live. Because when I wear the mask again and hand him the reins, you will remain as the vehicle of my return.”

  Clarisse crossed her arms low over her torso, feeling unnerved by PH:OV’s threat. Under the hood of the person she had thought was a mentor and a friend was just a cold, calculative creature, and it was hard for her to reconcile with that. “Why would you put it on, then? If Nikolas takes over whenever you do–” She confronted him, fists balling up and simmering with heat.

  PH:OV didn’t seem disturbed in the least by her advance, continuing in that same grumble, but with a hint of satisfaction. “Do not mistake my penchant for violence as an affinity for it. I am not an everyday maniac or murderer. The heights of my ego and ambition cannot be understood by mere mortals, for I am as close to perfection as one can be, yet flawed. I may have fallen from Father’s spotlight for now, but Nikolas possesses the patience, the diplomacy and the unfortunate pacifism which will get us to that grand stage yet again. There, I shall reprise my role once more.” His eyes glowed brightly in the relative darkness of the mineshaft as he spoke, and he grasped at the air in front of him as if to hold it hostage as an audience.

  “He wouldn’t give you that chance,” Clarisse glared at the dreaming conqueror with frustration burning in her eyes. “Nik is better than that. He’s shown me that much.”

  “There’s a lot he hasn’t shown you yet,” thin malice spread over PH:OV’s lips as he glanced back, “No, he’s just as much a monster as you think I am, even with that steadfast morality of his. Perhaps I should educate you on some of his past exploits…”

  “Hey. I’ve let you run your mouth, but that doesn’t mean you can just say whatever you want.”

  “Can’t I? You’re not in control right now.”

  “There are things that should never be repeated. You know them just as well as I do.”

  “We disagree on why, but yes, I suppose it’s better if mistakes remain mistakes.”

  “She’s been able to handle it pretty well so far. It’s time for us to switch back.”

  “Just a little longer. I’d like to feel a nightly draft run through my hair again.”

  “I’m not interested in listening to whatever bullshit you’re planning to feed me,” Clarisse rebelled against the hollow’s rhetoric, crossing her arms and averting her gaze from him again. “If Nik wants me to know, he’ll open up about it when I ask.”

  “Will he, now?” PH:OV scoffed, shaking his head with a tinge of satisfaction as he paused. Their exit was nigh, mere yards in front. The shroud of the evening sky had enveloped the forlorn quarry and the exterior looked all the same even after the explosive ending to their fight inside.

  PH:OV walked up to the edge of the tunnel, resting a hand on the thick log acting as support for the beam holding up the entrance. He looked up to the sky, unable to discern if the thick fog was a sign of impending rain or simply the influence of the Veil. His messy hair waved slightly in the whistling wind, and he closed his eyes to embrace the elements.

  Clarisse paused a few steps ahead of him, grateful for having escaped the earthen tomb below. The entire experience had left her with a sour taste for closed spaces, and even more so for PH:OV’s nature. Although, looking back at him showed her a slightly different perspective…

  PH:OV paid her stares no heed, relaxing his expression as he beheld the gradual darkening of the sky. He slipped off one of his gloves, gingerly running his fingers over the wood beside him.

  “It has been quite some time… I almost feel sorry for the suppressed world you must feel.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  “What good is it to have such intricate, such sensitive senses, but to see, smell…” He took in a deep breath, filling his lungs with air they had scant use for “, or even taste and feel it in only broken parts? If ever Father had made any mistakes, it was to render us with the ability to sense too much.”

  “Speak for yourself. The day you decide to shed your sin, you shall know the pain of guilt. It is better not to indulge in any joy exceeding the pain we can shrug off…”

  Clarisse painstakingly watched, while every ounce of her being told her to escape, to run while PH:OV seemed distracted. She watched his posture relax and a genuine smile form on his lips. It was not something proud or haughty, nor sinister or machiavellian. It simply was. The anger and rage from before melted into silent acceptance, an understanding that it was a recurring scene among many others. Strangely, it left her feeling calm too.

  “Does the beast sin when it kills to sate its hunger? We are not pets, overindulging even after being fed.”

  “And what of beasts who eat their own? I will not let us stoop to that hell again.”

  “Worry not. Without Father’s teaching hand, there is no point in repeating his methods.”

  “That’s not enough. The mountain of bodies behind us, it will never subside. That is a gash on this world too great for time to heal.”

  “Always caught in collateral… Will you waste your third lease on life laying them to repose?”

  “I can’t rest if I don’t.”

  There was time to notice the details now that she wasn’t fighting for her life. Just as with his bare arms at the guild, his face felt unusual, though she couldn’t pin any reason to why. She did get a better angle of the symbol under his left eye though. What she had thought was a tattoo before actually resembled a brand much more, the kind shepherds and farmers would mark their cattle with. It was a winged hourglass with its lower half cracked open, leaving its sand to spill out fruitlessly.

  “We are already dead men. Look towards the future. I am curious what you will make of it.”

  “The only way I can lay them to rest is to live on their behalf.”

  “Then you have a lot to do. Our lease is rather short this time unless we pursue my path.”

  “Perhaps. I might not be able to do everything. Even so, I am the only one who can try.”

  “I shall await your failures eagerly. These moments, they are precious to me. Always worth remembering.”

  “I strive to disappoint.”

  “Hah! Well said… go on then, find more ways to entertain me ere the end.”

  For a moment Clarisse questioned if this was really different from the Nikolas she had known, or merely what he turned into when pushed to the edge. She felt both sorry for him and afraid of him, someone who hid himself under layers and layers of lies so desperately that prying too far had gotten people killed with little more than conscious effort.

  “Lenue,” PH:OV snapped her out of the thoughtful trance, extending an open palm towards her. “The helmet. It is time for your mentor to return.”

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