Vencian lay on his back. The makeshift bed beneath him offered just enough warmth to keep the cold at bay.
They stopped traveling for the day as nightfall arrived, setting a camp near the woods just before the mouth of an open field. Since they were moving in a group of twenty, they had taken a less traveled path as they drew closer to enemy territory.
They’d skipped the taverns and inns for obvious reasons, but finding a good spot to set up camp took a bit more effort.
He wanted to keep moving. Every hour they lost was another hour Sebastian could be moved sowhere else or worse. But Jeriko’s n needed rest and the horses couldn’t go on without a break. He hadn’t slept much last night either
He looked up at the round moon hanging just above the horizon. Back on Earth, the moon shifted—crescent, half, gibbous. But here, it never changed shape. Just a constant, glowing disk, waxing and waning in brightness, but always whole.
Quenya wasn’t around. They didn’t talk much after getting rescued by Jeriko. Not because they didn’t get the chance to be alone again but because Quenya was sulking. She didn’t like how Vencian almost got captured and she was not able to do anything.
She didn’t try to show it, but Vencian could tell. He wasn’t so self-centered as to imagine such things without reason.
He looked across. There sat Jeriko scribbling sothing on a parchnt under the light of campfire.
"You haven’t completed the song for Cethy yet?" Vencian asked.
Jeriko looked up. His expression was uneasy.
"No. I am not satisfied with it yet." He replied.
From what he rembered, Jeriko had always been awkward around Cethy. A quiet crush. Mutual, from the looks of it.
However, Jeriko being Jeriko decided that he will write a song specially dedicated to Cethy to profess his love.
Obviously no one else knows about it other than Vencian. Jeriko wasn’t the type to share his hobby with anyone else.
"How long are you going to keep that poor girl waiting though?"
"I am not sure."
Vencian glanced at him. There was sothing else behind that answer, but Jeriko kept his face blank. For soone who always spoke his mind, that silence said more than words.
"Hah? What are you not sure about? She is twenty two already. If she wanted to marry soone else, her father would have betrothed her already."
He rembered from Vencian’s mories that she, like Jeriko, ca from a marquis family in Talos. They’d attended the academy together.
"It’s not that. Just kind of complicated."
"Uh huh."
Jeriko gave an irritated look, eyes sharp, like he had a mouthful of words he refused to spit out.
Vencian t his eyes but didn’t press further.
Well, that didn’t yield any result.
Vencian’s motive to poke at this topic of love and engagent was not just for the sake of mischief or small talk, but in hopes Jeriko might slip up and ntion Seris. He was still in the dark about his broken engagent.
He doesn’t know who Seris is. But the way Jeriko holds his tongue says more than his voice ever could. He’s holding back, careful not to stir up talk about her. For a guy who usually barks orders and brushes people off, he’s showing a surprisingly soft side here.
Vencian shifted the topic—this ti, to soone else entirely.
"What about Moses? He showed interest in soone yet?"
"No. He is still keeping his hands empty. Waiting for a better match."
Moses is the heir to the Vicorra houses. A better match ans a better alliance. But given their family situation right now, the chances of anything happening soon is even low.
"Right."
Vencian stood up, stretching his arms behind his back.
"He ain’t getting a girl if he keeps acting so rigid."
Then, slipping into a near-perfect impression: "Marriage is a matter of timing and advantage. Emotional attachnt is secondary to long-term benefit."
He even added the signature Moses pause and brow-furrow at the end.
When he turned back to Jeriko expecting him to be smiling, he found a rather shocked expression on his face.
The look on Jeriko’s face made him pause.
"What?" Vencian asked.
"...haha. You looked exactly like Moses for a second."
He shook his head and he closed his work and lay down mumbling he should get so rest too.
Vencian almost laughed it off, praising his good acting skills.
Sure, Moses and Vencian resemble a lot given the almost identical facial feature they both carried.
But a prickle of unease crept up his spine.
A flicker of light drew his eyes upward. Quenya had returned from wherever she went to sulk. And he could see sothing different. It was dim but a very obvious bluish-white glow was emanating from her. It dimd further until it was no longer there.
She didn’t say anything other than a simple nod.
Without waiting, he mumbled sothing about needing the woods and slipped away.
He didn’t go far, only enough to be out of sight but still able to watch if soone approached.
Turning to Quenya he asked. "Did my face really change? Did you feel anything like last ti?"
"It wasn’t as strong as last ti but I did feel sothing."
Vencian fell in a deep thought and chid in once again.
"I don’t correctly recall what I was thinking last ti but this ti, I tried to think how Moses’ would and act like. Can it be related to the transformation that just occurred?"
"Possible. Wanna try again?"
"Yeah."
Saying that Vencian closed his eyes and tried to recall the information about Moses from his mories in as much detail as possible.
He tried for a minute and opened his eyes. Quenya shook her, implying she didn’t feel any difference. Neither in Vencian nor in herself.
He tried again, focusing harder this ti.
Still nothing.
What am I missing?
He looked at Quenya.
Then it clicked. Whatever the change happening in him, it was not just him. Sohow she is involved too.
"Quenya can you recall what you were thinking both of the ti when the change happened?"
She took a breath. Her face was serious.
"I wasn’t thinking about anything special," she said. "Just that I wanted to help you."
Vencian raised an eyebrow. "Help how?"
"I don’t know. You looked in pain last night. And it felt like... if I wanted it enough, I could do sothing too. Not because of the voice. Because I wanted to help you."
He nodded slowly.
"Alright. Let’s both focus," he said.
"On what?"
"On Moses. I’ll try to copy him using mories. You try to... I don’t know. Want it to work. Sa as before."
She smiled faintly. "That I can do."
He closed his eyes.
This ti, he didn’t just recall Moses’ tone or the tilt of his head. He tried to inhabit him. The calmness. The slight frown. The quiet calculation behind every word. The steady posture.
Sothing stirred beneath his skin. A subtle pull, like a thread tugging inside his chest.
He tensed.
A strange yet familiar sense of alignnt, like sothing lining up where it hadn’t before.
"Sothing’s happening," Quenya whispered.
Vencian opened his eyes.
There was soone standing in front of him.
His first instinct was to reach for a weapon. But then he saw the familiar face.
Moses.
Or sothing that looked exactly like him. Right height, sa hair, sa expression. Eyes steady. Posture formal.
"What the—" Vencian stepped back.
The illusion didn’t move.
Quenya blinked, then slowly stepped around it. Her hand passed right through.
"It’s not real," she said. "But it’s there. We made this."
Vencian frowned. The pull in his chest felt too familiar, like the sa force that had made his face change by the river. Is this the power given to us by that voice or sothing else?
He studied the figure. It didn’t react to light or sound. It was perfect, but it didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.
"It’s not transformation," he said quietly. "It’s projection."
The figure flickered once.
Then vanished.
Vencian staggered slightly, like sothing pulled loose inside him.
A thread in his chest, pulled tight just a mont ago, had suddenly gone slack.
He stared at the spot where the illusion had vanished.
"That was... sothing else." he said quietly.
Quenya hovered beside him, eyes wide.
"I didn’t think we could do that," she said.
"Let’s try again," Vencian said.
Quenya hesitated. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah. But this ti... sothing different."
He took a step back and steadied his breath.
"Before, I was trying to beco Moses. Like stepping into his role. This ti I want to try sothing else."
"Like what?"
"Not another person. Just... . The old ."
Quenya tilted her head. "Luke?"
He nodded once. "If this works, maybe I can control what the illusion wraps around. Keep it tighter. More stable."
She floated a little closer. "Alright. I’ll follow your lead."
He closed his eyes.
Slowly, carefully, he recalled his reflection. Not from this world, but the other one. Luke Marlowe. Darker hair, lighter fra. Eyes tired from too many sleepless nights. A face he hadn’t seen properly in weeks, except that one ti by the river.
The thread inside him pulled again. Like a muscle stretching after being ignored for too long.
He opened his eyes.
Quenya gasped.
"It worked," she said.
Vencian glanced down at his hands. They looked different. Narrower. Paler. His forearms weren’t as strong.
"It worked," he said.
She nodded, though her glow had returned, faint and flickering.
"You look like Luke," she said, voice thinner than before. "But only on the outside."
He stepped forward, testing it. The illusion moved with him. Shadowed right. Reflected light. No delay.
"This one’s better. More real."
"It’s stronger," Quenya agreed, floating lower now. "But it’s also... harder."
Her glow dimd again.
"Quenya, are you—"
"I’m fine. Just a little... lightheaded. It’s like... I’m leaking sothing."
The illusion flickered.
And vanished.
The thread inside his chest snapped loose.
A sharp ache blood behind his right eye. He winced, staggered back a step, and pressed fingers to his temple.
"You okay?" she asked quickly.
"Yeah. Head’s pounding. Like a... mild migraine, maybe. Not terrible. Just annoying."
Quenya was already dim. Her posture had dipped to a slow hover near the ground.
"We should stop for now," she said. "You’re hurting. I feel like I just ran a long race."
Vencian nodded. "Right. Before soone cos looking."
He exhaled, and started the walk back to camp.
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