Day in the story: 1st December (Monday)

"Dad was right, you're goddamn crazy!" Nick shouted over the roaring of the beast.

"Didn't he add 'sometimes' at the end?" I called back, handing him Ella in baton form. "Man up and draw its attention, will you?"

While he charged up, I sprayed more and more of the pavement with paint representing fire, blue and dangerous-looking. The visual alone would make anyone think twice.

Nick's shadowlight flickered around him in a flash of bright green. He'd eaten enough spinach to tint him like a radioactive Hulk and his low-level Embodiment soulmark did the rest. He didn't transform, exactly, but because people believed spinach made you strong, his magic did too. It was half alchemy, half folklore and all muscle.

He leapt from behind the car we'd ducked behind.

"Come get me!" he shouted. Not the most original taunt, but it worked. The beast zeroed in.

Now, the beast, yeah, I hated to admit it, but we were being chased by a snowman. Not the cheery, carrot-nosed, neighborhood-built kind. This one came straight from a twisted Ideworld reflection of the suburbs, appropriately called Suburbia.

This thing was huge. Car-sized. Built from three lumpy snowballs stacked like a mockery of childhood joy. Its grin was carved from jagged coals that looked more like razor teeth, its eyes obsidian-deep and its carrot nose was long, crooked and completely sinister. Oh and it had nine wooden limbs. Kind of like a spider. A snow-spider.

And it hated us.

While I continued painting the illusionary inferno, Nick did his best to go toe-to-toe with the abominable Frostarachnid. It roared, sounding like cracking ice and spat a slurry of melting snow toward him. Nick dove onto the roof of a shadow-SUV. The metal crunched beneath his weight.

The snow-spider swung a limb down at him, Nick caught it mid-air with both hands and gritting his teeth, snapped it clean off.

The beast shrieked in pain, but went straight in with another strike. I was ready. Thanks to my card-eyes planted across the battlefield, I had perfect visibility, from every angle.

Before the next limb could land I hurled a card, infused with fire and steel. It lodged deep in the wooden joint and ignited, flames licking up the icy branch. The monster hissed and reared back.

That bought Nick just enough time to flank it.

And then he slammed Ella into the side of its massive, twisted head.

It dropped to the ground with a sweet, satisfying thump, bits of its snowy carapace splattering everywhere like overripe fruit.

"I hate it! I hate it!" Nick yelled. Let's put it mildly, he had a slight discomfort around spiders. Some folks called it arachnophobia. He downplayed it. We didn't.

It's kind of comical.

He leapt onto its back, gripping Ella's baton form and thrusting the sharp end deep into the snow-flesh. "Two days of early snowing! Just two days!" he bellowed, weaving between its flailing limbs as he punched the monster across its monstrous, coal-studded face. One obsidian "eye" popped loose and skidded off into the street.

He aimed for the second eye but the beast reared and shoved him aside with one of its crooked stick-limbs.

I knew what he meant, though. It had been snowing for two days last month by the end of October, starting on Halloween, no less. Apparently, that's when the veil between our world and the Ideworld gets paper-thin. So what should've been a casual Halloween outing became a nightmare in Suburbia, filled it with twisted, snow-themed shadowspawn like this one and some of them managed to last entire month.

Perfect.

I was done with the painting now, an illusion big enough to do real damage. All I needed was for the spider-beast to step into it.

"Nick! Can you move your sorry ass over here?" I called out.

Okay, maybe I insult him a little too often. Occupational hazard from spending every morning training with his dad, Dam. Let's just say Dam's a nice guy outside the proverbial ring, but in a fight? He's vicious. Brutally honest, especially with those he cares about. I guess it rubbed off on me.

"I'm kinda trying not to die here, Lex!" Nick snapped.

To be fair, he wasn't entirely wrong.

He had two of the beast's limbs locked in a crushing grip, was stomping on a third one to snap it in half and somehow still dodging jabs from the others the spider didn't even need to stand on. It looked like a pro-wrestler crossed with a blender. Guy was a champ.

I dug into my bag and pulled out one of my newer tricks, a thunderball. It was just a baseball, painted to look like a lightning orb until I'd packed it with shadowlight and static charge.

"Become thunder," I whispered, hurling it straight at the beast.

The moment it flew, the air filled with the sharp tang of ozone, my enhanced mask-rabbit nose picked it up instantly. Electricity loves water and snow's just fancy frozen water, so I figured: boom.

Instead? Thump. The ball just sank into the monster's body. No zap. No blast. Just a cold, snowy whump.

Well. That was disappointing.

"Are you playing with it?!" Nick shouted, suddenly full of sass.

"Funny," I shot back, already sprinting toward the thing. When I got close, I spring-vaulted off a car's roof and kicked it hard in the side, knocking it off-balance and sending it skidding across the pavement with a roar of comical outrage. It splattered more of its snowy mass like blood, hissing and steaming as it hit the warm ground.

It didn't stay down long. The snowspider got back up, limbs twitching and lunged at us with renewed fury, flailing its sharpened branches like a blender full of pine.

I grabbed Nick by the hood and yanked him toward the spot I'd prepared.

"I can move myself, you know?"

"Then please do." I smirked.

We both turned and ran, leading it straight toward the trap. As soon as the beast's heavy, snow-packed body stood atop the fiery painting, I reached out and touched the edge, channeling shadowlight through my fingers.

"Become the inferno," I whispered.

The painting shimmered, activating with an identity of searing blue flame, the kind that burns so hot it almost looks cold. The snowspider's limbs ignited instantly, crackling and steaming and then its entire form collapsed as its legs melted beneath it.

Its monstrous head hit the ground with a sickening squelch. It shrieked once, then sagged, melting rapidly into a slushy heap.

"Turn it off before it burns completely!" Nick yelled.

Right. I'd gotten a little too into it.

I pressed my hand back near the ground and willed the shadowlight away. The heat lowered by the second, leaving behind a mess of scorched snow and steaming coals.

"Was it spared?" I asked, catching my breath.

"I don't know. Let me check." Nick slogged through the melted remains, kicking through icy chunks and sticks until finally he stood up triumphantly, holding something aloft.

"I got it!" he shouted, waving a slightly crooked carrot.

"Is that the soulmark after all?"

"I thought so. My dad told me a story once about a beast like this. Its soulmark was its carrot nose." He held it up, studying it. "But this one is not—"

"Then it's still probably good for a cool stew," I said, grinning. "Ariana would love it."

"Funny," he said flatly, "Cool… stew?"

"You know nothing about jokes, man," I said.

"Nah," Nick replied, "I just like them good. Well done. Not burnt."

"Whatever. It was a good kill. Good job, Nick."

"You too. Although next time, paint a little faster."

I let his jab slide and moved around the area, collecting my eye-cards and removing their Authority. Once I was done, I looked around.

Nick was sitting on the porch of one of the houses, munching on a cracker his mom had given him. He ate a lot, not just for the power his Embodiment gave him, but because, honestly, I think he just liked it. That's why he was a bit chubby. But he had solid features, a full head of auburn hair, a nice stubbled beard, clear green eyes and a symmetrical face that could easily make him eye-candy if he ever decided to trim down. And underneath that softness, there was muscle. He was deceptively strong and everyone who knew him understood that well enough.

We were deep in Suburbia, a section of the Ideworld's version of New York that looked like a warped copy of some picture-perfect neighborhood. A wall of nearly identical houses stretched endlessly in every direction, only distinguishable by minor differences, an old car here, a slightly different tree there, a porch swing or cracked fence. Still, the whole place felt bleak, wrong. The shadows of people inside were just as bland mimicking daily routines like they were stuck in some half-finished simulation.

Most of them had thankfully retreated indoors before our little showdown.

We came in earlier, through an opening that appeared near the Lebens' house, on Dam's orders, of course. He said this would be good training for both of us. He told us to push past the suburban stretch and head toward the edge, where the woods began. Supposedly, we could find rare herbs there if we were lucky.

So we marched, over twenty-four hours now, fighting off the occasional monstrosity, dealing with twisted creatures and every so often, arguing over snacks. This damned place was like a maze built out of fractals and suburban nightmares. Every turn led to another stretch of street lined with near-identical houses. It was slowly driving me insane with boredom.

"Were you always like that?" Nick asked out of nowhere as we vaulted over a fallen tree. Something had clearly chewed through the trunk, looked like we'd be meeting our next opponent soon enough.

"Like what?" I shot back. "Pretty? Nah, I used to be ugly like you."

He let that one pass. "I meant unhinged. Is there anything you're actually afraid of?"

"Hard question," I admitted. "But yeah, of course there is. Just not the usual stuff. I'm more afraid of… concepts than physical things. I fear losing my friends, being unable to keep doing what I love, dying before I'm done."

"Death? Really?" He seemed surprised. "Most of the time, you don't act like it matters when you fight."

He was dead serious, fitting, given the topic. He absently swung Ella in a kind of shadow-boxing routine, striking at invisible enemies in the ever-present gloom.

"Yeah, I fear death," I said. "But usually not while I'm fighting."

"Adrenaline keeps you going?"

"Maybe. Or maybe it's just the drive to push through. I'm a woman who came up working in a world full of men, brutal, stronger, louder. I learned to survive by pushing back smarter."

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He muttered something I couldn't catch but didn't argue. He was softer than his father, sure, but he wasn't weak. Not by a long shot. I had no doubt he'd tear the world apart with his bare hands if it meant protecting what mattered to him.

It was already dark here. The sky stretched wide and clear, glittering with stars, as if light pollution had never existed, or had simply never mattered in Ideworld. Or maybe it was the Milky Way itself, so full of its own presence that it refused to let any other light, save the sun, have meaning.

And then there were the Moon. Were, because in this world, it always came in multiples. A full one stood dominant, surrounded by dimmer echoes, less full versions of itself. I counted thirteen tonight. Some were barely slivers, but they were all apparently one and the same Moon, just fragmented in ways that made it feel justified to wear many faces. Ideworld could be funky like that.

I liked being here, liked unraveling its secrets. Everything felt strangely artistic, as though these shadowy reflections of our world were more real than the bright distractions back on Earth.

"You're like two different people, Lex. You know that?" Nick said, his mouth half-full with yet another cracker. Where does he keep pulling those from?

"Sometimes I feel like more than two," I replied. "But they're just masks, really. Which two are you seeing?"

"When something goes down, you flip into this — badass mode. Usagi, like you call it, tactical, relentless, unstoppable. A thief, a warrior, whatever the moment needs."

So far, it sounded like a compliment. I smiled.

"But then, when it's quiet, you're a daydreamer. You look at the world from angles I'd never think of. You see things differently."

"Thanks. That's actually really sweet, Nick. Were you building up to a question?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Just an observation."

"You never do the same? Just — watch the world? Let it press on your soul a little?"

He paused, considering, then took another bite. After he finished chewing, he looked over at me.

"I look at stuff. I just don't dwell on it. You were looking at the Moon like that just now."

"Yeah. It fascinates me. But even if you don't dwell on things, you're still weirdly poetic and a keen observer, Nick," I said. "But I think it's time for Usagi to join the party again."

I narrowed my gaze at a house in the distance.

"Oh no. Not another Frostarachnid," he groaned, actually groaned, like a kid about to be forced to clean their room. His antics were growing on me, but I was starting to miss the others.

"I don't think so. See that house over there? Something's moving near it. It looks like a tree, but it's swaying weirdly and there's no wind, right?"

"Maybe something's chewing on it," he said. "Like that tree we passed earlier."

"Could be. You're the food specialist, Leben."

He gave me a sideways glance. "Funny again, rabbit?"

We shifted off the main path and crept forward slowly, keeping our eyes on whatever it was that moved in the distance. It looked like a tree at first, tall, dark and swaying, but not in the wind. Its branches waved unnaturally, brushing in front of the house's windows like long fingers testing the glass.

"It could be a Willowshade," Nick said.

"A what now?" I asked, squinting at it.

"It's a kind of shadow born from a child's fear, usually of trees or shapes moving outside their bedroom window. Kid sees a silhouette, imagines a monster, Ideworld takes notes and makes one real."

"Cool," I said. "Are they dangerous?"

"Sometimes. Depends on how much Authority the kid projected into it. Could be just spooky, could be a killer." He paused. "The more vivid the fear, the stronger the shadow."

It was helpful having Nick around, he'd been taught about Ideworld's inhabitants since he was little, especially those that lurked around this area. His family didn't venture outside the city often, but they made sure he understood what roamed its shadowed corners.

"You think that other tree we passed might've been one too?" I asked.

He frowned. "Could be. Why?"

"Just wondering if something's out here eating them."

He didn't like that idea.

"You want to fight this one, don't you?"

I grinned. "Would you believe me if I said no?"

He sighed. "You're going to anyway, aren't you?"

Oh, he knows me well. There was something addicting about these fights, like a perfectly executed heist: tactical, thrilling and rewarding. I reached for my belt and popped open one of my new card containers, yeah, I'd finally upgraded to separate compartments for different kinds of cards. I should've done that from the beginning.

I pulled out a few extra eye-cards and infused them, first with steel, then with sensory magic. One by one, I threw them into position around the area: some embedded in tree branches, one in the cracked street, another stuck to the top of a rusted car.

In an instant, my field of view widened. I could see from every angle now, without turning my head. It used to be overwhelming when I first learned how to do this, like trying to see through a dozen mirrors at once. But now? It was like blinking awake with a dozen eyes that had always been closed.

"Do those eyes mess with your normal vision?" Nick asked, watching as I began sketching a fiery deathtrap directly onto the road. He pulsed green for a moment, juicing himself up with leafy strength again.

"Like — extra windows on a computer screen?"

"No. It's not like that," I said. "It's more like expanding your awareness outward. Like growing new eyes. You don't lose the old ones, you just stop depending on them."

"Hmm. Sounds weird."

"It is. You'll have to grow a few more eyes to understand."

I was just finishing that sentence when the rabbit ears on my mask caught a sound, distant at first, but unmistakably growing closer. Something Nick was not going to like.

"Nick," I said slowly, "you're gonna hate this, but we've got Frostarachnid company incoming."

"No, no, no — not again," he groaned, already tense. "At least your trap will be ready this time, right?"

He was nervous, but honestly? So was I. That sound — it was the telltale thundering of a snowy beast bounding across rooftops to our left and it was definitely chasing someone. A human someone.

The Willowshade hadn't noticed us before, too busy playing boogeyman outside some poor kid's nightmare-house, but that was changing. Everything was about to get a whole lot messier.

"Get ready," I said, locking eyes with Nick. "It's chasing a scared kid and they're heading straight for us."

That got his focus realigned. "Redo Ella, now."

I reached out and touched the umbrella, withdrawing my Authority. As soon as the light flowed back into me, he popped it open into its full shield form and held it steady. I infused it again with a fresh dose of shadowlight.

"Thanks," he said. "I can hear it now."

Unfortunately, so could the tree. The Willowshade stopped pounding on the window and turned toward the source of the noise and by extension, us. It began to crawl forward with a sick, deliberate rhythm, its short roots dragging it along like a grotesque centipede. Or a snail. A very pissed-off one.

I was still painting the last lines of my fiery trap when one of my eye-cards picked up movement, a figure vaulting over a nearby rooftop. He leapt with practiced ease, rolling cleanly as he hit the pavement. Young guy, maybe eighteen or nineteen. Black, dreadlocks, dark hoodie. Parkour kid. He landed smoothly, but froze when he saw us. A flicker of silver light sparked above him just as he landed.

"Come!" Nick shouted, sounding, disturbingly, like Damien. The kid looked over his shoulder at the Willowshade, then back to us, then at the half-finished painting on the ground. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes.

"We'll protect you," Nick added.

But it wasn't words that convinced him, it was the roar from the rooftops behind him that got him moving.

He sprinted toward us. To his credit, he didn't step on the painting, whether out of instinct, fear, or respect, I wasn't sure. He aimed straight for Nick.

That's when the house directly across from us exploded, crashing down like a toy set kicked over by a tantrum. From the wreckage emerged the Frostarachnid, far bigger than the one we'd fought before. It tore its way through the splinters with ease, revealing a gaping maw packed with obsidian teeth. Its black eyes were wide and soulless. Worse, it had something new: a massive limb that looked like a crude broom, dragging behind it and leaving a shredded path of cracked stone, soil and blood promises.

"Name's Malik!" the kid shouted. "Where the hell are we?!"

Neither of us answered.

"I think we should bail from this one," Nick said and I couldn't agree more. Between the shadow tree and the overgrown ice-spider, our odds weren't looking great.

"Yeah," I said, eyes darting between the threats. "Grab the kid."

Nick scooped Malik up under one arm and reached for my shoulder. I touched the Travel Grimoire at my side and focused hard on the training hall beneath Nick's house.

But nothing happened.

The world didn't move.

I felt it, roots. Invisible, clinging, holding me fast. A foreign Authority, creeping through the cracks of my soulmark and anchoring me here.

Willowshade.

"Put me down!" Malik yelled, thrashing.

"What's going on?" Nick asked, eyes wide.

"The tree," I growled, "it's blocking my portal. We fight." He didn't like the idea, but he accepted our reality.

"I'll take the snow-spider," Nick said, setting Malik down gently. He drew a deep breath, bracing himself and then charged straight at the monstrous Frostarachnid.

I turned my attention to the incoming tree.

Spray paint in hand I sprinted toward the Willowshade. I hadn't expected it to move fast, not with those stubby root-like limbs, but it surprised me with the speed of its willowy branches. The damn thing struck like a whip.

Its main body lumbered forward, slow and steady, but its attacks were anything but. Every swing came fast and brutal, its limbs less like wood and more like steel cables lashing through the air.

My original plan, to get close and paint directly over its trunk, died the moment I had to dive under the first sweeping branch. I rolled back to avoid the second, then slipped sideways between two more strikes.

If it weren't for the network of eye-cards I'd placed earlier, giving me a perfect panoramic view of both myself and the monster, I'd have been mulch within seconds.

One of its limbs nearly caught my foot and I vaulted backwards to relative safety. No more messing around.

I grabbed three fire-cards and flooded them with steeliness, fortifying their structure, then ignited each one with a crackling burst of blue flame.

With a flick of my fingers, I launched them like daggers toward the monster.

The Willowshade snapped its branches in defense, deflecting two, but the third card sliced clean through and embedded deep into its shadowy bark. The others rebounded but stuck to its sides as they dropped.

Then the heat began to build. The blue fire caught, slow at first, like smoldering paper, but it spread, curling up the branches. My pulse surged.

A glimmer of hope, short-lived.

The tree let out a guttural groan and ripped the burning limbs from its own body without hesitation. It flung them aside like trash, embers scattering across the road.

"Fuck!" I hissed.

It wasn't just a mindless shadow, it was tactical. Self-sacrificing. That meant it understood threat, understood pain and would not go down easy.

In the meantime, Nick was doing his best to break apart the Frostarachnid's legs while dodging its relentless assault. The beast jabbed and swiped at him with its icy limbs and that oversized broom-arm, trying to maul him into the pavement. Fortunately, Nick was faster, just barely. Where it did manage to clip him, he shrugged it off, regenerating thanks to whatever he'd eaten earlier, eggs, I think.

Malik stood frozen near my painted trap, mouth agape like he was seeing magic for the first time. What was his deal?

I took a running start and launched myself between the two monsters, instantly drawing the Willowshade's attention. It creaked toward me like an old, angry god, its limbs whipping through the air. I danced between the strikes, retreating step by step, luring it closer, moving in the direction of the snow-beast pinning Nick.

Then I turned, sprinted and vaulted off a nearby car. I landed hard on top of the Frostarachnid's snowy carapace just as it twisted to grab me. I let go, sliding on the ice-slick back just as one of its limbs slammed down, on itself. Dumbass.

Willowshade joined the chaos, swinging wildly at me but hitting the snow-spider instead. Branch met ice, limbs tangled. Perfect.

I used the distraction to jam eight fire-infused cards into the snow-monster's back, pressing them deep into the packed frost. Blue fire began to glow beneath its skin. With any luck, it'd melt from the inside out.

Nick, meanwhile, had freed himself. He climbed onto the beast's face, grabbed its oversized carrot-like nose with both hands, planted his feet and pulled, grunting as the thing shrieked in fury.

The Willowshade wasn't a passive punching bag either. It lashed out with a vengeance and the Frostarachnid struck back with that deadly broom-arm, slicing through branches, cutting into the trunk. A full-blown turf war had erupted between them.

All of it, all of it, was happening directly over my painting.

I dropped to the ground, crouched low and activated the trap with a press of my palm. Heat exploded upward like a furnace bursting open.

In seconds, the Frostarachnid's legs caught fire, the flames licking up toward its belly. The Willowshade's roots, tangled and too close, ignited as well, writhing in agony as fire crept up its bark.

Two monsters. One battlefield. One trap. Burn, you beautiful bastards.

I felt Ella calling to me from where Nick had left her beside the boy. I sprinted over, removed my authority from her as I grabbed the handle, then closed the umbrella and infused it into its baton form. The boy stared wide-eyed.

"What's going on?" he asked, but I had no time for a lecture.

With a powerful leap, boosted by my enhanced boots, I launched myself straight at the Frostarachnid's face. Mid-air, I drove Ella deep into its head and held on with one hand while using the other to help Nick yank out the damn carrot it called a nose.

With a sickening crack and a shriek, the entire thing jerked and the force launched both of us backward. We hit the street hard, tumbling to a stop, Nick still gripping that oversized vegetable like a trophy. Above us, the snow-spider began to melt in earnest, slumping onto my activated trap in a hissing, steaming mess.

But of course it couldn't be that easy.

The Willowshade, smart bastard that it was, used the melting snow to smother the fires on its roots. I watched, incredulous, as it pulled free from the embers, half-charred but still kicking and began crawling toward us again, its branches lashing wildly like whips.

"This is ridiculous," Nick yelled, scrambling to his feet and pulling me up with him. "It's basically fire-resistant. What the hell are we supposed to do now?"

I didn't want to do it. Gods, I really didn't want to. But as that walking nightmare closed in, I saw no other way.

"I have one card left," I muttered. "But it's not subtle."

Nick looked at me, eyes hard but trusting. "Do it."

"Get behind me, Nick. Grab under my arms, hold them steady. I'm going to shoot this thing."

I reached for my pistol and infused it with my authority.

Become Equinox, I thought and the weapon pulsed, its frame lighting up with rainbow-colored shadowlight, humming with identity: the railgun.

Nick stepped in behind me without hesitation, wrapping his massive arms under mine, locking them in place. His grip was solid, braced with his strength and the leafy force he'd pulled from his food authority.

"You ready?" I shouted over the sound of the Willowshade's furious approach.

"Do it!" he called back.

I squeezed the trigger.

Sound and light exploded from the pistol in perfect, violent harmony. The blast ripped through the air, punching a hole straight through the tree-shadow as it shattered into splinters, broken trunk and raw shadowstuff.

The sonic boom hit a heartbeat later, deafening and the recoil, even with both our enhancements and Nick's bracing, threw us backward like ragdolls.

We crashed into the street. I landed right on top of Nick, hitting the poor guy in the face with the back of my head.

"Ugh, sorry," I groaned, rolling off him. My whole body buzzed from the shot, but I'd felt worse. Arms intact. Ribs sore but not cracked. Shoulder? Still in socket. That counted as a win.

"You okay, big man?" I asked, still panting.

He raised a shaky arm and gave a thumbs up, then groaned as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

"You shot that thing by yourself last time?" he muttered, rubbing his jaw.

"Yeah. It nearly wrecked me. Thanks for the backup."

Nick turned to look at what was left of the Willowshade, just smoldering, shattered chunks of bark and vaporized branches.

The boy, Malik, was finally coming out of his shock. I saw him stepping cautiously toward us, still wary but clearly amazed.

I stood up to face him. Nick followed, brushing off ash and dirt. We had just pulled off something insane and somehow lived through it.

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