Day in the story: 9th December (Tuesday)

Bobby came early again.

There was something deeply unusual about her and it wasn't just the fact that she'd been lobotomized after her last shift, though that certainly played a role. I suspected it happened to her after every night and honestly, I hoped that was true. If nothing else, it would give me a pattern. A routine. And a routine was something a thief like Alexandra could wield like a weapon, one forged out of time and preparations.

But no—Bobby's strangeness ran deeper than the ritualistic butchering she had endured.

Even now, as she cleaned the floor in the underground complex, I could sense it. Just thirty minutes earlier, I had infused her headband with shadowlight, embedding a tiny sensory spell into it. All it took was a simple touch, an innocent gesture, correcting the band on her forehead as we greeted one another. That was enough to let the shadowlight seep in.

The lobotomy didn't make her unusual. Surviving it probably had more to do with Alicia Bergman's power than Bobby's own will. No, Bobby was different because of Bobby.

She walked into the lab floor, the one where the shadows were kept and didn't so much as flinch. No hesitation, no fear, no reverence. To her, those shadows were just part of the world. Background noise.

Normal—and that was exactly what made her special.

While I performed my own duties tonight, she became my focus. A curiosity I couldn't ignore.

Bobby wove through the lab like a woman made of air, her movements smooth, silent and unassuming. She slipped between equipment and personnel with the kind of practiced grace that made her invisible. Her cleaning was precise, immaculate, yet no one acknowledged her. Not the scientists. Not the guards. No glances, no questions, no greetings. She was a ghost in plain sight.

And yet, she was seen. That much I verified.

I focused on the eyes of those around her. They tracked her as she passed. A scientist even turned as she entered his workspace. But no words were exchanged. No recognition passed between them. It was as if their minds registered her existence but refused to process it, like she was a necessary hallucination.

The shadows saw her too, of that I was certain.

There were more of them today.

The muscle-blob—its heaving mass confined in the usual containment tank—lurched the instant she came near. It flowed toward her like molten flesh, pressing against the reinforced glass with a force that made the metal frame groan. It wasn't a single movement but a series of violent, twitching spasms..

She lingered in the room, methodically cleaning the barrier that separated them. The beast's thrashing never ceased. Without the glass, she would have been crushed, enveloped, and consumed in seconds. Its strength was undeniable—but more intriguing was its uncanny ability to track where Bobby had been. No eyes. No ears. It couldn't be touch or vibration either; even when she moved far away to clean the desks, the thing remained focused on her trail.

Half an hour later, in another chamber, she stopped at the cage of the soot-covered pigeons—each one marked by a third eye in the middle of its forehead. There were two today. Both followed her movements in perfect, unsettling harmony. Their ordinary eyes blinked together in mechanical unison, while the central eyes stayed unblinking, always open, always fixed on her.

Just like me, just like Alexandra back at the other end of my mind.

The birds, however, abandoned her the moment she stepped away, their eerie synchronization snapping toward some unseen point with mechanical precision.

An hour later she was in the big room with steel harness and the hybrid, part reptile, part bird, part human. It was the only shadow that tried to communicate with her. Or rather, I should be more precise. It was the only being that ever tried.

Its narrow head tracked Bobby's movements, unblinking, before it began to sing. That was the only word that fit—though the sound was wrong for any human throat. A melodic, guttural chain of chirps and hissed consonants wound together into something like an alien lullaby. It sang directly to her. The long neck bulged and rippled with each note, inflating and collapsing like a frog's throat in slow motion.

And Bobby, Bobby stopped.

She never stopped.

Her head tilted, her posture shifting slightly as if she were…listening. I saw it, she bobbed her head ever so slightly, not unlike someone absorbing the rhythm of a forgotten tune. Then, without a word, she turned away.

The hybrid's reaction was immediate. It thrashed violently, slamming its body against the reinforced harness that held it with a rage that made its earlier song dissolve into sharp, broken hisses and snarls.

Bobby didn't flinch. She simply moved on. Unbothered. Unafraid. But definitely not unnoticed.

I watched this creature with particular interest. Its intelligence was undeniable, and so was its capacity for emotion—the rage that had flared moments before softened into something like sadness, or perhaps surrender, as its hisses faded into silence and its steady, unblinking gaze finally dropped to the ground.

That's when she Bobby moved out and toward the room that would make Alexandra especially interested.

In the center of the chamber, perfectly symmetrical, stood a containment tank. Inside, suspended by metallic harnesses, was a single shadow -the Unreflected. Its limbs were splayed and chained, each one pulled taut toward the ceiling and floor. Only its head moved. It had no eyes and yet, I felt that it saw. It even turned its faceless gaze toward Bobby as she entered.

But Bobby wasn't alone with it.

Alicia Bergman was there, along with a well-kept, middle-aged scientist, dressed too sharply for someone who spent most of his time in lab doing just science and experimentation. They were mid-conversation.

"Has it been confirmed?" Alicia asked.

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

"Yes," the man nodded. "They're different. The pigeyons were a failure. Their tracking is inherent, a product of belief. Useless. The Gutters track by scent, while the Proteian reacts to movement. Passive receptors."

They were cataloguing tracking behaviors—mapping the senses of the shadows. Pigeyeons were obvious: the soot-colored birds. Proteian sounded like protein, the building block of muscles—another obvious shadow. That left the gutter, which could be either the reptilian hybrid making those guttural songs, or the other one I'd seen before, but not tonight—the one with tentacles sprouting from its guts.

"And the Unreflected… who would've thought," Alicia said.

"I was surprised too."

"Logistics will be a nightmare," she muttered, tapping the tank lightly. The creature didn't react.

"Unless they go out again."

"They will," she said. "But we can't rely on luck twice."

"We're not about to waltz into the Mirrored City, either."

Alicia tilted her head, expression unreadable. "We'll see. Rhythm seems capable. He might be enough."

"Still, this one specimen will last us for a while," the scientist said, caressing his chin, clearly connecting threads in his mind.

"I propose we do the test runs first. Then we'll try crystallization and make a prototype."

"That would be my assessment as well. I'll ask William to start as soon as possible."

"How are we standing with clearing lenses? Do we need more?" Alicia asked, watching Bobby clean around a large aperture.

"Brawn made plenty. We'll have enough."

So my boss was involved in whatever this was. Interesting.

Alicia's gaze shifted to the Unreflected caught in the middle of the room.

"I heard there are more of them now than when the towers stood."

I wondered what she meant. What towers?

"Yes," the scientist said. "The new environment is much better for their creation."

"It's incredible how quickly Ideworld adapts to changes here," Alicia said, her eyes flicking toward Bobby, still quietly cleaning in the corner. A faint frown crossed her face.

"Please excuse me," she told the scientist. "I need to handle something."

She walked toward Bobby with a smile that didn't touch her eyes.

"Hello, Bobby. It's nice to see you."

"Hello, dear. Is everything fine?"

"No, Bobby. It isn't. You broke the rules. Come with me."

Bobby followed her, docile as always.

They walked in silence. A few minutes later, both were seated in Alicia's office. Alicia sat behind her desk, Bobby in front, like a student facing the principal.

"Bobby, I told you, you are not to share your number with anyone but me and never to invite people to your house."

So this was about me.

"I'm going to have to fire poor Elle," Alicia continued. "She was a good cleaner. Talented even. A shame."

She held out her hand. "Now give me your phone."

Bobby obeyed. Alicia removed the SIM card, slipping in a new one with practiced efficiency.

"Your new number contains only mine. You won't be seeing Elle again. Or speaking with anyone. And for God's sake, no one comes to your house."

"I'm sorry, Alice. She seemed like a sweet girl."

"I'm sure she did. But you know the rules, don't you?"

"I… I forgot, Alice. I forget a lot."

A long silence followed.

"I was afraid this might happen. Your caster, she's not well, Bobby. I've tried to keep her alive, to keep her dreaming, but her mind is slipping. She's giving up. And with her… so are you."

Caster?

Dreams?

Bobby's a shadow!

That was a fantastic discovery. It explained her carefree attitude toward the other shadows in this laboratory. She didn't treat them as remarkable because, to her, they weren't. It was perfectly normal.

Alicia had made a special effort to bring her here. Emotions could be part of the reason, but there might be something else at play as well. Better not to assume too quickly.

"So," Alicia said gently, "we're letting Elle go, before this goes too far. Before I have to take more drastic measures. I'm sorry, Bobby. I truly am."

"It's hard, Alice. Always being alone."

"I know. But we have a chance, Bobby. A real one. There's been a breakthrough. A doctor found a sleeping shadow. Can you believe that?"

"I don't know what it's like to sleep, Alice… I don't know…"

"I hope you will, soon. Now, please give me the headband. We can't have you remembering her."

Bobby reached up, removed the headband and with it, the enhanced senses I'd fed into it. The band was folded in such a way that it obscured everything. Sight—gone, only sound remained.

Then came the one I'd never forget: a sharp, wet crunch, the unmistakable grind of a stiletto pressed through an eye socket.

There was a silence that followed and lingered for a while.

Silence broken when I heard Alicia's voice one last time.

"Go home, Bobby. That's enough for today."

They moved together for a while, but soon steps diverged as they took different paths. Two minutes of walking and few seconds of typing into some computer.

And then came the crackle of fire. She was burning the headband. Burning me out of it. Alexandra's authority. My access.

Soon, I'd be gone from this place. Fired, fortunately not literally. But I'd lost my eyes and ears on the inside.

At least now I knew what Bobby really was.

And who she belonged to.

**********

Kate Maxwell approached me just as my shift ended, right when I was about to head for a shower. I'd been expecting her, of course, but didn't let it show.

"Elle, please come with me to my office. We have to talk," she said, her voice carrying that unshakable confidence.

I took my things and stood to follow. "Of course."

We moved in silence to the elevator, then down the corridor to her office. Mr. Brawn was already there, immaculate as ever, scrolling through a tablet with the slow precision of someone reading every detail. He didn't look up when we entered.

"Please sit," Kate said. I took the chair opposite her desk while she slid into her seat behind it. Without preamble, she pushed a neat stack of forms toward me.

"I'm sorry, but we will have to let you go after all."

Interesting. Brawn's presence here was unusual—yet he gave no sign he was paying attention. I decided to play my part.

"I'm fired? What's the reason, if I may ask?"

"There was a breach of protocol by one of our senior cleaners—you may know her as Bobby. She wasn't supposed to speak with anyone."

"I'm fired for someone else's mistake?"

"Yes." This time it was Brawn's voice, smooth and absolute. My head turned toward him. "It happens sometimes. Your contract states we may take preventive measures without providing a reason. You were promising, however, so we felt you should know why."

"She never said anything to me related to her work," I replied carefully, fishing for anything useful.

"We know. We've reviewed all recordings of your interactions. There is nothing else I'm willing to add, except that I will provide a recommendation for your next employer, should you need one."

I smiled faintly, masking the calculations turning in my mind. "Thank you, Mr. Brawn. Thank you, Mrs. Maxwell."

I rested my hand on the papers. "Where do I sign?"

"You're not asking about the payment?" Kate tilted her head, studying me.

"Is there something I should worry about in relation to that?" I asked, voice calm, almost bored.

"I really liked you," Brawn said suddenly, still seated but now watching me directly. "I had hoped to move you up to more important areas of the company in time. Such an… unclean way to go. I am truly sorry."

It was then I saw it—just for a breath. A flare of pure white shadowlight in his eyes, spilling like pale mist to the sides before vanishing into a translucent glow. I locked my surprise away. He noticed nothing.

"So am I, Mr. Brawn." I signed where needed, the pen scratching softly across the forms. "May I ask something, purely to satisfy my curiosity?"

"Go ahead. I feel I owe you at least that."

"How long does a person such as yourself have to work to reach your position?"

"Are you planning to open your own company?" His eyes narrowed, but his voice remained casual.

"Yes." It was a lie, but one worth telling. Any scrap of information—his start date, his age—might matter later.

"I always loved order. My parents never had to ask me twice to clean my room. I joined a cleaning company as soon as I finished school, opened my own five years later. So you could say it took my entire life."

I smiled politely. Alexandra whispered at the back of my mind, urging me to add something sharp, something unlike me. I obliged.

"That's good to know, Mr. Brawn. Because that's exactly how long I'll have as well."

For the first time, he laughed—a rich, genuine sound. "Without a shadow of a doubt, Miss Erikson."

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