One morning, Sophia refused to leave her room. This was rather unusual, as she was never really disobedient. What’s more, she’d locked the door. The knights could certainly have forced it open, but Argrave had instructed them to be gentle with Sophia and try to avoid showing her undue violence or displays of force on account of what she’d already been through.

In the end, Argrave and Anneliese went personally to try and get her out of the room. Argrave knocked on the door and called out to her, “Sophia. What’s going on in there? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine!” came Sophia’s voice, insistent and panicked. He didn’t need Anneliese to tell him that she wasn’t.

Internally, Argrave’s heart was in turmoil. He looked at the two knights by the door and said, “Give us some space.”

The knights left the door, ensuring that no one came near as Argrave and Anneliese did what they intended to. Meanwhile, Anneliese cut the lock with magic. Together, they pushed open the door. They saw an old man in gray robes sitting on Sophia’s bed, and at once prepared to defend her. But when he turned his head to look at them, Argrave felt his heart sink and his stomach churn.

“Hello. I’m Tower Master Castro,” he said.

With the name given, the image of a man Argrave had once called friend began to overlap with this uncanny and grotesque imitation. He was bald, true enough, but his face was nothing like Argrave remembered. There were moles were there ought not to have been. His eyes weren’t quite the right color. His face was wrinkled, yet his hands were not. His gray robes lacked the owl sewn onto the shoulders. And above all, not a twinkle of magic emanated from him.

“I have a robust succession plan, Argrave,” ‘Castro’ said, sparking a memory in Argrave’s head. The next words were all-too familiar. “My position in the Order has basically already been delegated to those who will take my place. And I assure you, they are as steadfastly loyal to you as I am.”

Argrave slowly turned his horrified expression away to look at Sophia. She was curled up in the corner of the room, surrounded by all the dolls she’d brought to life in the past days.

“Sophia,” Argrave said, doing his best to keep his voice even. “What did you do?”

Sophia trembled at the sound of his voice, but did not lift her head up.

“Maybe I want it,” ‘Castro’ mused. “I am many things, but famous? I think not. Over three hundred years of living, and I can still walk through the streets of any city without so much as a widened eye in recognition. Make sure the historians write about me, maybe hire a minstrel or two… and this old man can breathe his last.”

“Sophia,” Argrave repeated, louder.

back,” Sophia said, voice muffled and trembling. “I wanted h-him to be here again. To help you.

Argrave demanded, louder

the w-world.” She lifted her head, revealing her dark and puffy eyes. She started sobbing uncontrollably. “I j-just… just wanted to help. I wanted you

Sophia as ‘Castro’ said, “I will punch a hole through the Shadowlanders and the golems both. And through

cook Sophia a meal. The two Mr. Knights stood guard against Argrave. The seamstress was sewing a thread into Sophia’s green dress.

wanna stay. Please don’t send me back.” Her trembling intensified. “I’ll d-do anything. Please. I’ll punish myself, o-or

his arms, but he endured it silently as he stared

send me back,”

is not meant to be

find words for the situation. But what could be said? This was precisely the sort of nightmare he’d been hoping to avoid. He should’ve objected, should’ve done something before things spiraled out of control like this. But then… it had been only days, and

Master Castro,” the living doll

sadness in his

only thing he could promise, after

#####

in the same room she’d been staying in, Argrave separated her from all her dolls and ‘Castro,’ instead leaving her in Argrave and Anneliese’s room that she might have some comfort without the memories of what she’d done. She’d promised

a disaster of the highest magnitude if his existence was revealed. It was already a blessing that no one besides Anneliese and Argrave had seen anything. The Alchemist insisted on seeing

the Alchemist, studying the faux-human as it babbled on the few phrases Sophia had once heard Castro say. “Nothing more than a big doll, created from her shallow memory of

even now, but

do with him?”

minimum to keep himself alive. Aging, things like that—only time will tell if he suffers from such afflictions. Still, best to kill him. Sophia can make something better that we

in disbelief. “She makes… this, yet you want to

upon Argrave with his cold gray eyes, and said

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