Whose Shadow Do You Wear?

The sword lowered at last. The door clicked shut.

Ru stood, warmed by Jazz's shadow, pressing a hand to his pounding heart. His tongue darted out to wet dry lips. It was time for the performance to begin.

"I think I know you…" He paused, watching for a reaction. Jazz stood unnervingly still—a statue carved from shadow and storm. Ru continued, lacing his words with soft, theatrical weight. "So well that when I woke up just now, it was as if I’d dreamed of you. And how strange—I feel I’ve been dreaming of you forever."

"Are you a seer?" Jazz’s voice was rough, velvety, low, and testing.

"Sort of," Ru whispered, casting a wary glance toward the veiled destiners pacing just beyond sight. "I’m a sleepwalker. And I think... you... you woke in uncertainty too. After a deep sleep, nothing was left behind. Not even your name."

"Like everyone in this house," Jazz said flatly. But his fingers twitched near the space where his player card should have been.