Nico was in the saddle, watching the city of Narbras recede behind him. The chilling Black Tower stood out against the sky like a giant finger pointing upwards. He shook his head, feeling his side itch. He hadn't solved anything there.

  Leo, beside him, held the reins tightly in his hands, strangely silent; from time to time, he reached down to touch the dagger at his side.

  Now that he looked more closely at his friend, he seemed tired, with dark circles around his eyes and a pale, worn face. Nico sighed to himself, explaining that everyone was tired.

  The murmur of Kiah, who was talking quietly with Nadia about things and people in the real world, provided the background noise.

  Nadia asked about smells and tastes, wanting detailed stories like a thirsty person drawing water.

  Gareth, with a sullen face, put up with Peter, who was talking to him a short distance away, further down the road. Nico still didn't know how he would make a backup, but one thing was certain: they had to get to the Archivist.

  Before leaving, Kiah had taken care of the supplies. Together with Nadia, they had bought bread, cheese, dried meat, water, and oats for the horses. Nico still remembered her voice as she listed the purchases to be made, while Clarissa muttered to herself and fluttered around the shop like a crazy moth, twirling her shawls in every direction.

  “Willow bark infusion,” she had said. “For pain. Oh, yes, and... you suffer from insomnia, don't you, dear?”

  She had asked without waiting for an answer, grabbing a bottle from a shelf and placing it next to another, before flitting back and forth between the shelves. Nico couldn't remember if or when he had told her, but he hadn't thought much of it.

  “Valerian root and chamomile, for better sleep. Then, then... this might be useful...” she continued, showing him two dark vials. “This is a concentrated ginger root herbal tea, excellent for seasickness.”

  Nico nodded, vaguely remembering that some of his friends had suffered from seasickness during the trip, although he couldn't remember who.

  “This, on the other hand, is an infusion of nettle and horsetail, rich in minerals. They help strengthen bones. These two are concentrated,” Clarissa said, pointing to the smaller vials. “Two drops under the tongue, morning and evening. Don't forget, dear.”

  When Gareth and Leo returned from the inn's stable with the saddled horses in tow, they had also brought new clothes for Nico: a blouse with forest green breeches. They had also retrieved Nico's two weapons, which he himself had entrusted to his companions before entering the Black Tower. The bow and sword, adorned with green and silver inlays, felt familiar against his back and hip.

  When they all mounted their horses, no one said much. Everyone greeted Clarissa with courtesy or ill-concealed distrust, like Gareth.

  Nico lingered a moment longer.

  “Everything all right, dear?” she asked him, with her aspirated vowels, looking at him over her thick glasses.

  Nico laughed. “Yes, everything's fine. I just wanted to thank you for your help and wish you good luck with your research.” He held out his hand.

  The woman pushed it away and gave him a theatrical hug, her shawls fluttering around them and enveloping him in the warmth of the felted wool. "Oh, thank you, dear. It was a pleasure to help you. I wish you all the best."

  Then, leaving him, she turned to everyone and croaked, with her aspirated vowels, “Have a good trip, dear ones.”

  Nico had mounted his horse, and now, as they trotted along, Narbras and the Black Tower disappeared behind him, giving way to the barren countryside ahead.

  The road was long and monotonous; the sound of hooves covered almost everything. Time passed, but Nico couldn't say how much.

  His side itched as if a wound was healing, but scratching did not relieve the itch.

  At one point, Kiah slowed down, raising her head. “The sun isn't going down,” she said.

  Nico looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

  “What?” Leo asked irritably, ruffling his hair. “Have you taken up meteorology?”

  Nadia looked up at the sky, her face tense.

  Gareth stopped his horse and trotted quickly toward them. “What's going on?”

  Nico looked up at the sky; Kiah was right. The sun was still high, as if it had stopped in the late afternoon, reluctant to set. It was blocked by clouds that formed a crown around it, also motionless despite the breeze that wafted through the countryside.

  “The sun,” Kiah said simply.

  Gareth nodded. “Erebos.”

  Nico looked up at the sky, following the wind that made the edges of his shirt flutter. He sighed, grateful that there were no other manifestations of Erebos. He clenched his fingers around the reins, as if clinging to an anchor, fearing that the Nothingness might choose to show itself in worse ways.

  They resumed walking, the horses at a trot, but Nico kept his eyes fixed on the sky. He noticed that the others, too, occasionally glanced warily at the heavens. The clear sky, with the late sun preceding evening, seemed unstable at times, as if some parts were shifting slightly. Nico gritted his teeth and pressed on, his hands on the reins, saying nothing.

  The road ran alongside a river. They came to a low stone bridge and stopped to let the horses drink. Nico bent down to look at the water, but the reflections were not theirs.

  There were figures, but they were incomplete. No faces, no clothes. Nico backed away, turning to look for the silhouettes he saw reflected, but noticed that the figure in the river was repeating his movements. He turned to Leo, fearing that he and the others had been turned into mannequins, but his friend's face was unchanged, staring at the water with wide eyes.

  “Holy salami, what the...”

  Nico breathed a sigh of relief. “It's us,” he said, trying to calm Leo down. “I think we're in a part that's been hit harder by the Nothing.” He touched his side: the wound was still itching.

  He looked up. The sky shifted again. For a moment, he saw signs, grainy pixels that then disappeared.

  Immediately afterwards, the weather changed; not gradually, but suddenly.

  Day faded into night as the air cooled and the stars appeared, in a dazzling flash, all at once. The horses became agitated, and Nico felt his stomach tighten as his side began to itch terribly.

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  “It's Erebos,” said Kiah, her voice trembling.

  Nico nodded, his gaze falling on the water: his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, returned his gaze.

  A sharp crack, like wood breaking, came from the other side of the river, beyond the bridge, causing Nico to turn around abruptly.

  Beyond the bridge, on the opposite bank, there were figures blocking their path. In the faint blue light of the moon, Nico saw smooth, light-colored wooden bodies with rigid joints: they were the mannequins he had seen reflected in the water.

  His breath caught in his throat as they stood still, staring at them with their eyeless faces. The horses whinnied and pulled on their reins, the sound of their hooves echoing in the sudden silence.

  “Holy salami, what the...” Leo blurted out, running his hands through his hair and ruffling it.

  “Holy salami, what the...” repeated a mannequin, in a metallic, gurgling voice, as it brought its hands to its head, ruffling hair it didn't have.

  Nico felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The mannequin in front of Leo was the same height, the same posture.

  Nico swallowed, trying to get rid of the lump in his throat. “They came out of the river.”

  “They came out of the river,” replied his replica on the other side of the bridge, in a metallic, glitchy voice.

  Kiah brought his hands to his lips, his face terrified. The wood creaked after a few moments and his double imitated the gesture: his fingers, except for his thumb, grouped together in a single oblong mass against his non-existent mouth.

  The night wind blew down the river, cold as midwinter.

  Nico saw Gareth lunge forward before he had time to think about what to do. The sword whistled out of its sheath as Gareth charged, launched like an arrow. On the other side of the bridge, Gareth's mannequin replicated the charge with a few beats of delay, a creak of wood and moving joints. The dummy's sword looked like it was made of wood, and Nico sighed as Peter laughed, saying, “It'll be a fun fight with that wooden sword!”

  Nico gave an unconvinced grin. He was frightened by those figures that replicated everything and was afraid to speak or move: he didn't want to see those hideous creatures copy his gestures. His side itched terribly.

  When Gareth and his double met halfway across the wooden bridge, the piece of wood that was the mannequin's sword did not break: it withstood the blow, producing a clang of metal against metal when the wooden blade struck the steel.

  Nico watched Gareth lunge, but the mannequin responded with the same lunge a moment later. The two swords met in a strange, unnatural movement of blades. Gareth twisted his wrist and parried, dodged to the side and brought down a blow from above; the wooden blade intercepted the attack with the same movement, but too late. Gareth dodged again, sought a new low lunge, then returned to his guard. The mannequin repeated every movement with unnatural precision, always half a beat behind.

  Nico shook his head and decided to act. He grabbed his bow, his eye searching for his double on the other side. The echo of wood on the other side of the bridge, replicating his movement, was a dull and disturbing sound. The mannequin, faithful as a distorted mirror, drew an arrow in the same way.

  Nico fired his arrow: the bow vibrated, the arrow streaked through the air toward the dummy. But before it could hit, Nico threw himself to the ground, seeing the dummy's arrow coming in his direction. The wooden figure threw itself to the side, with a barely perceptible delay, but managed to avoid Nico's arrow.

  Nico, lying on the ground, sniffed as he continued to watch Gareth struggle in lunges and parries that always had an identical replica, as if in a mirror. However, he noticed that there was a delay. Minimal, but it was there. A crack in that stubborn repetition of doubles. A crack they had to exploit.

  He saw Nadia, a few steps away from him, raise her hands to chest height, arms outstretched, palms facing outwards. Something invisible hurled itself at the mannequin on the other side, while Nico felt a strong wind ruffle his hair. He saw Nadia's replica fall to the ground, as if pushed by an icy wind, the wood hitting the deck with a dull thud. The real Nadia stepped back to the side as a gust of wind came from the other side of the deck, knocking her off balance.

  Nico's eyes widened. Now he was certain: there was a delay in the double's movements compared to the original.

  Gareth continued to struggle with his double, parries and lunges colliding with each other. Nico watched closely: every movement was replicated, but always a few moments later. Peter approached and offered him a hand to help him up. Nico grabbed it and Peter shook his head.

  “Your friend seems like someone who doesn't think much... he's just wasting energy.”

  Peter's replica croaked from the other side in a metallic, distorted voice. Nico clenched his jaw, his eyes on the dummies. Every word, every gesture, could become a weapon if calculated. When he looked at Gareth and his double, he saw Gareth's blade slip into a space between movements, wounding the dummy.

  “They're running late,” Nico muttered, observing the mannequin's wound, which didn't seem to bother it or diminish its abilities.

  The metallic voice repeated his words, distorted. Nico concentrated, blocking out the figures that mimicked words and gestures.

  “We can defeat them,” he said, staring at his companions. “They're slightly behind us. If we move quickly, we can beat them.”

  Peter nodded, his feverish eyes illuminated by the moonlight.

  Perhaps encouraged by Nico's words or Gareth's blow, Nico saw the worried faces of his companions fill with determination. Leo leapt forward with his dagger drawn. The reflections of the red and gold inlays glowed with a strange dull light, as if they were sucking in the moonlight rather than reflecting it. Leo lunged, cursing; his dummy did the same. Thrusts, curved cuts, but still too slow.

  Nico watched the mannequin always react half a beat later, the time it took to count one, two, and then he lunged.

  Leo moved in tight circles and quick passes, displaying a speed that Nico didn't remember ever seeing from him. It seemed as if his shadow lunged before him.

  He shook his head as he saw Peter next to him transform into a wolf: his fur puffed up, his face lengthened into a snout, his legs tapered. The dummy replicated as Peter leapt to the side, biting the double still in transformation.

  Nadia raised a hand engulfed in a ball of fire. The mannequin replicated the gesture: the two spheres met halfway, exploding in a flash.

  Kiah manipulated the river water, raising it in a vortex that surrounded the mannequin, but the blow, replicated, shot towards her. Kiah dodged to the side just in time.

  Nico drew his sword with a sharp movement. His mannequin did the same a moment later. Nico moved tightly and quickly, in sequences of three strikes: high feint, low strike, rotation, and retreat. Each combination left the mannequin off balance for a fraction of a second, but it was useless. Nico did not have Gareth's speed.

  He took a step back. The mannequin retreated. Nico sheathed his sword and advanced unarmed, coming face to face with the being in the middle of the bridge. He spun around; the mannequin did the same, turning its back to the river. Nico grabbed it with both hands on its wooden shoulders. The mannequin did the same. The cold weight made Nico shiver. With a decisive movement, Nico swept it with his foot and pushed it over the edge of the bridge. The position favored him: Nico fell to the ground with a thud, while the mannequin slid over the parapet, falling into the black river.

  Nico got up and watched the water swallow his double. He couldn't swim. He couldn't imitate anything, since Nico wasn't moving.

  “Brilliant,” said Leo, and with a leap he jumped over the parapet. “Throw him down!” he roared, holding on so as not to fall.

  Nico roared, “Are you crazy?” and pushed away the mannequin, which, in an exact replica of Leo, was standing next to him. Then he rushed towards Leo as an oval piece of wood flew over their heads. They turned around when they heard a thud. Gareth had cut off his mannequin's head.

  Peter yelled something in a dog-like laugh and leaped up on one paw. The mannequin copied him half a second later.

  Nadia raised her hand. Heat consumed the air in front of her. On the other side, the copy fluttered. Kiah spread her arms wide.

  “Remember, only at the last second,” Nadia whispered.

  Kiah nodded.

  The fireball shot through the air. Nico stared at the two girls. He saw Kiah counting under her breath: “One, two...” Then the invisible wall closed. They repeated the combination, switching roles.

  Peter feigned a jump and opened his side to the dummy. In an instant, he pushed it into the flames. The dummies burned, motionless, lighting up the night.

  Only then did Nico realize that the itching in his side had subsided. Perhaps it had gone away.

  He looked at his companions: tired, upset. They couldn't stop.

  “Let's go,” he said.

  No one answered.

  The bridge remained behind them, while the smell of burning wood filled the air, and Nico had the impression that this was only the beginning.

  [AUTHOR'S NOTE]

  Log updated: Readers are invited to provide comments and evaluate the behavior of subject N_01.

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  Log closed: The system observes.