Quack

Wen woke up shivering. Cold stabbed across her skin. In the distance, she heard a sound that didn't match the temperature. It scratched at her ears, leaving a tingling sensation behind in its wake. She raised her head and saw the Oxford grounds. A layer of frost covered the nearby buildings, except for the spot in front of her. It was one patch of green with a single dark bench. on it sat a man she knew. His hand went into a small white bag before throwing crumbs out to the surrounding ducks.

Wen pushed herself to her feet, and each movement felt like she was sitting on broken glass. Every sting brought with it a warm pain that reminded her she could feel. It stood against the cold numbness that filled her body and reminded her she was human.

"Dale?"

Her voice cracked as she reached for the man on the bench. He didn't turn to face her. All he did was raise one hand and wave before going back to feeding the ducks.

"Hey, Ice Queen," he said, laughter tinging his tone. "You're back already."

Wen squinted. She stood rooted on the edge of the frost. Despite the warmth that the bench offered, she was hesitant. Warmth wafted out to her and sent prickles down her arms, but she remained still. Something about the situation was horribly wrong.

"We almost made it last time." Dale shook his head. "You just weren't strong enough then."

Wen took a step back.

"Confused?" Dale laughed. "I'd imagine. Most people who get a peek behind the curtain don't come out right on the other side. Gobsmacks you until you're knackered."

"You're not Dale," Wen whispered, taking another step back and deeper into the cold.

"Now that's just rude." Dale ignored that it wasn't rude. "I look like Dale. I walk like Dale."

He stood up and spread his arms wide, still facing away.

"You don't talk like him," Wen said.

"That's harder to pull from someone's memory." Dale shrugged. "People summarize instead of storing every word. Not that they believe that. 'Perfect recall,' 'didactic memory,' 'photographic memory.' Don't make me laugh. You remember how people make you feel, not who they really are."

"Then who are you?"

"Does it matter?" Dale turned, revealing a face as dark as night, sprinkled with twinkling starlight. "I'm here to help you make the choice you couldn't before. I'm here to help you find the path forward. Who I am shouldn't matter."

Scrrk.

Wen slid a foot behind her, and her hand went to her hip. However, her hand touched nothing. Her holster was empty. Her guns gone.

"That's the first problem, and why you took so long." Dale raised a finger. "You relied on those tools too much. It really stunted your growth. I was happy when you met the rest of your crew because they forced you into something different. They really cracked you out of the ice fortress you built around yourself."

"What are you, my therapist?"

"Again, the wrong focus." Dale shook his head. "Don't worry about 'who.' Worry about 'how.' How do you want your curse to grow? That's the real question here."

Wen paused. A memory flickered in the back of her mind like the ember of a dying fire. Jean had told her what to expect. This was about her curse. 'Dale' was just the power personified. Though he had said nothing about the appearance changing, or the snark.

"I could do with a little more kindness." Wen sighed.

"Could you now, Ice Queen?"

"And what if I don't cooperate?"

"We stay here until you do, or die." Dale shook his head. "I'd prefer to live."

Wen pursed her lips, and the cold stuck them together. When she pulled them apart, the skin tore. Again, the cold hurt her. Just like it always did.

"You're here to help me," she said.

"Yes, a thousand times, yes!" Dale threw up his arms. "That's what I've been telling you!"

"This is too surreal."

"Yes." Dale smiled.

"I think I understand." Wen massaged her forehead to abate the forming migraine. "What do we do?"

"It's time for you to make a choice," Dale said, spreading his arms and revealing three glowing crystalline structures that floated between them. "I've curated some options for you to consider."

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Each one had its own color, three in total, from a dark blue to a bright white. However, Wen didn't care about the options. There was only one thing she wanted. She looked at Dale to see him standing with his arms crossed.

"Which one stops my curse from hurting me?"

If the faceless Dale could smirk, Wen imagined that he would have given her a tooth-filled smile. Instead, he raised his arms in a shrug and let out a long sigh.

"I thought you might have gone that way."

Snap.

Instantly, the crystalline lights folded in on themselves. They faded into nothing before Wen could blink. Only one remained.

White cold light shone out on it, reaching and chilling Wen's ice-cold skin from a distance. Even in the frozen ground around her, the light was colder. Dale pushed out a hand and sent the light toward her. She didn't want to be colder and didn't see how it would help.

"I'm just supposed to trust you?"

Jean had given her no sign she shouldn't. According to him, the curse chose a form that was familiar to the user so that the process could be easier. However, when Dale's face was a recreation of a clear night sky, Wen had her doubts. Even the forcefulness of Dale was unlike what Jean had described. He had said that it would be a more gentle process, at least, until the changes happened.

"It's in both of our best interests. What's good for you is good for me, or if you prefer: What's good for the goose is good for the gander."

Quack.

Wen glared out at the ducks, which were still feasting on the bread crumbs. It gave a mixed metaphor.

"Fine," Wen said. "How do I do this?"

"Just reach out and accept it. I will do the rest."

Wen looked into the bright white light and clenched her fist. She tamped down her hesitations, and she squashed her doubts. She sucked in a deep breath and drew as much strength as she could muster. With a defiant cry, she thrust her hands into the light and accepted the power. White light filled her as she froze.

"Whuh." Wen sucked in a breath as she pushed herself up.

"Down." A forceful hand immediately pushed her back down to the hard stone.

Wen blinked. As her eyes adjusted to the bright light above. The warm touch of sunlight scrambled across her skin. She focused her eyes on the pink and black blur above her. It was Erin's green eyes that stared down at her, and as her vision adjusted, she couldn't help but notice a change.

"You're pink." Wen wheezed out a laugh, and Erin's face darkened to a deep red.

"I'd like to see you after surviving a dragon's flame." Erin cut back, shaking her head. "From what I can see, you went through the opposite."

Wen groaned as a deep soreness flared through her limbs. She tried to get up, but Erin's hand and her own body refused.

"You're not going anywhere for the moment." Jean's deep voice rumbled across from her. "Neither am I."

She turned her head to see him sitting on the ground against a nearby wall. She might have felt she went through hell, but Jean looked like it. His face was gaunt, and bags rested under his eyes. Across all his exposed bones, several cracks were visible. A sad frown and distant gaze told her that there were invisible wounds beneath even that. She blinked a few times to make sure she was right. She had never seen Jean so down.

"We're all grounded, it seems."

He pointed over to where Sayed lay nearby, his arms spread wide and his eyes closed. Sayed was covered with white scars, small nicks and cuts that looked recently healed. Wen could hardly believe her eyes. All of them were down, injured, beaten.

"But we all beat a Finger." Erin sighed. "One way or another."

She stood and limped away. Wen watched after her and saw twenty or more others lying in the street. Black empty armor suits rested next to the men. Hell Knights.

"I'm done with her. Who's next?" Erin yelled, and one of the standing knights came over to direct her to an injured man.

"She's been at it for an hour," Jean whispered. "I'd think she mastered the Path of Breath if I didn't know otherwise."

"Did we get their memories back?"

"No," Jean said. "Not yet. But Harut won their loyalty without their memory."

"What?"

"I don't understand it either, but there is much beyond my mind. Today taught me that lesson."

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Not now." Jean grimaced. "But I will have my answers soon. One way or another."

Wen didn't know what to make of that. However, she didn't have the strength to keep asking. Even keeping her head up was like lifting a heavy stone.

"What about Alex?"

Wen's eyes snapped open. He was the only one who was missing, but in her tired state, she had missed it. They were all there, if she excluded Artur as well.

"He's talking with Harut," Jean said. "Came by while you were asleep."

"He's alright?"

"Better off than we are. He took down Mister Tyson—or Bolton did, with his curse."

"That's every Finger then."

"Just leaves the Hand." Jean nodded. "Pity we won't be of any use. I owe that woman for many lost memories, even if—"

He stopped, and didn't finish his sentence.

Wen flexed her fingers, but they seized. A stabbing pain ripped down her arms. Jean was right. Whatever happened now, she wasn't going anywhere. It wasn't a matter of will, but sheer physical limits.

"What were you going to say?"

"Nothing." Jean looked away.

Wen knew he was lying, but she also couldn't force him to talk about it. She did the next best thing by changing the subject.

"I talked with Dale," Wen said, closing her eyes again. "My curse is stronger."

"Is it now?" Jean's voice picked up just a little, like a kid hearing they were going to do something fun.

"I think it is," Wen said. "I'm nowhere near ready to test it."

"You woke up far too soon. I fear there is much about you that is an anomaly when it comes to curses. Did anything else strange happen?"

Wen took in a deep breath. She wasn't sure how to say it. That didn't change just how tired she was. Keeping her mind from wondering off was a task in itself.

"He wasn't right." Wen settled on that.

"I see."

"It was like he was playing Dale." Wen bit her lip and opened her eyes again. "Like an actor."

"It is true that person is not the real person," Jean said. "They are there to help and guide you in your growth, at least as far as I have seen."

"But are they supposed to insult you?" Wen frowned. "His face wasn't right either. It was like looking out into the nightsea."

"That is odd." Jean held the final consonant for a long moment. "That this is your second encounter is also a problem. I've never heard of that happening either. Perhaps the two problems are related, but also perhaps not."

"Correlation is not causation?"

"A fine observation. The only problem is when the correlation is a sign that they are causally linked. We'll have to keep an eye on you."

He paused, and silence filled the air. Beside them, Sayed began to snore. Wen held back a smile, mainly because it would hurt to move her face.

"What did you choose?"

"I'll show you when we're both better."

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