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He and Arianna tag-teamed me, while Valentina and Kleitos watched from the sidelines like it was their personal entertainment. Arianna charged at me from the shoreline while Bomani came from the tree line. When they were only a few feet away, I extended both arms out and pushed bursts of air through my palms.

Bomani's body launched backward, tumbling through the snow and crashing into the trees. But Arianna? She cut through the wind like it was mist. Her hands glowed with dark vapor as she released her own magic into me. Shadows flooded my vision, drowning the beach in a thick black fog. Pressure coiled around my chest, crushing my lungs and buckling my knees beneath me.

I couldn’t even scream. There was no air left to try.

Arianna wrapped her hand around my throat, yanking me from the haze. Despite the violence of it, there was a strange sense of relief. Her shadows were like sitting in the depths of despair. The pain vanished the moment she pulled me free, but that peace didn’t last long. With a forceful shove, she flung me across the sand, and I landed hard near the bay’s icy shore.

Bells rang in my ears as the hems of my pants were soaked from the freezing wave that had cascaded down my legs. Shivering, I tried to compose myself in the flurry below, but the moment was fleeting. A massive black figure appeared by my side, aiming for my feet. In a blink, it snatched the fabric of my slacks, dragging me back into the arena.

Bomani’s razor-sharp teeth tore through my skin, leaving a jagged trail of blood as his head whipped side to side like a rabid dog. My ankle twisted at an unnatural angle as he swung me back and forth, relentless in his grip. Just ahead, Arianna closed in, her fist cloaked in shadow.

Flinging my torso upward, I drove my elbow into Bomani’s skull. The hit landed hard, but it didn’t slow him. Not until I blasted a gust of air directly into his face, launching him a few feet back. But it was no use. Before I could even rise to my feet, Arianna was already on me. Her fist, wreathed in darkness, collided with my jaw, and a heartbeat later, both of her hands gripped my tunic. With a forceful pull, she yanked me upright.

Her face in battle sent a chill down my spine. It twisted into something near-sinister. Like the demon she really was. The whites of her eyes had darkened into an obsidian void, swallowing her irises entirely. She flared her nostrils as her lips curled into a wicked grin. It was the kind of smile that didn’t promise mercy, only pain.

Shoving against her chest, I tried to break free, but she only hauled me closer. Her hands rose, and black smoke began to coil from her fingers to my throat. It wrapped around me like a noose, cutting off my air. My vision blurred at the edges as I felt myself slipping away.

From the sidelines, a voice broke through like wind over water. “Arianna, that’s enough,” came the calm but firm call.

The shadows were still thick around my neck when her face softened, and a quiet, almost amused chuckle escaped her lips. Her hands released me slowly, the darkness dissolving like mist. She gave me a slow once-over, from the top of my head to my chin, before murmuring with a smirk, “You’re getting better.”

Each day, they continued their assaults disguised as training. Dark purple bruises claimed my body after every fight. But they weren’t normal bruises from pooled blood beneath the skin. They shimmered with sapphire swirls, as if molten lava had lashed across my flesh. Arianna said they were slow to heal, that her magic took days to fully drain from the system. Aside from the remnants of her energy still brewing beneath my skin, my ankle had mended. The soreness in my muscles had dulled, drowned out by the adrenaline that came with each session. I never imagined fighting would become something that thrilled me, not just with fatigue, but with the joy of the sport.

Even though I couldn’t beat Arianna, no matter how hard I tried, it was getting easier. Each lesson became a challenge I welcomed. Whether I was testing my powers or raw combat skill, I improved.

My Naemira also began to settle inside me. The link between us became stronger each day, and I had no reason to resist him. In fact, I invited him. Each night, in my unconscious mind, we spoke in our dreamscape, trying to understand one another. It felt like a fever dream. The images didn’t come to me like memories, but as if we were living through them together. My Naemira and I stood shoulder to shoulder, staring down at a younger version of myself cradled in my mother’s arms. I couldn’t have been more than five.

I was sitting in my mother’s lap in my childhood room, pillows surrounding us. Little me had a Spider-Man action figure clutched in one hand, of course, and my mom wielded Doctor Octopus. We were reenacting the scene from the second movie, where Doctor Oct blew up the bank, and Spider-Man tried to stop him. It was such a warm, silly memory. Martha’s muddy brown hair fell down around her face as she leaned over my shoulder, moving her action figure into the scene with exaggerated sound effects. Her smile stretched wide, lighting up her whole face.

Naturally, as Spider-Man, I had to swing in from the ceiling, according to my five-year-old logic, and defeat the villain. Dropping down as far as my arm could stretch, I launched Spider-Man at her hand. He tackled Doctor Oct midair until Mom laughingly dropped the toy in surrender.

My Naemira’s voice gently broke through the moment. “You seemed like you were loved by her,” he murmured, his head turning slightly toward me. There was a gleam in his eyes, something quiet, something soft. Maybe even sadness.

“I was,” I replied, smiling faintly as I watched the memory play. “I grew up with a lot of love from her.”

He nodded slowly like he understood more than I explained. “I’ve been sifting through your memories the last few nights. I want to understand the parts of you I wasn’t there for.” His gaze returned to the younger version of us curled into Martha’s arms. “I thought this one was… incredibly childish.” A teasing smirk crept onto his lips. “Of course.”

A laugh burst out between my lips at his comment, and I shook my head. “You honestly just had to be there. My mom took me to the opening night of that movie, and it was one of the coolest experiences I've ever had. Uncle Ben dies in the first one and drops the most legendary quote: ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’ If you think about it… It kind of applies now.” I chuckled, a wave of nostalgia warming my chest.

“What does that have to do with the man with eight arms your mother was playing?” he asked, just as amused.

“Well, every great movie has a villain. Doctor Octavious was actually a mentor to Spider-Man before he turned against him. That betrayal led to some of the most iconic moments in Marvel’s universe,” I explained, trying to put it in terms he’d understand without completely confusing him.

“Childish, as I said,” he teased with another chuckle as the memory began to fade around us. The scene shifted, melting into something more ethereal, a dreamy castle-scape bathed in royal blues and creamy white curtains, accented with flowers and climbing vines.

“You were a child once, too, right?” I asked curiously as the space solidified around us.

The room fully formed like water falling down a barrier. I’d never seen anything like it. Walls stretched far, easily the length of two small apartments, and the ceilings soared so high, vanishing into shadow. There weren’t many paintings adorning the space, just one that caught my eye, mounted above the hearth in a sitting area.

My feet moved on their own, guiding me toward it.

Framed in radiant gold plate, the painting depicted a baby lying peacefully in a basinet. He couldn’t have been more than a day old. The hair atop his head was a crown of soft coils that splayed around his face. The baby’s eyes were closed, but his expression was serene. For a moment, I wondered, was that me?

“I was a child, yes,” he said softly, “but it was different for me. There was never an Anchor to allow me into the physical realm. In a perfect world, we would’ve grown side by side until it was time for us to merge.” There was sorrow in his voice that only I could know. It reminded me of my own. “Having this spiritual realm… being able to see our mother Eliza from a distance, it hurt.” His gaze lingered on the painting. “This is the room she built for us in her palace. She updates it every year in our honor. I figured the least I could do was use the spiritual version… in tribute.”

Sympathy stirred deep in my chest at his words. The idea of another half of me, isolated and watching from afar, made my heart ache. Reaching out, I placed a hand on his shoulder in quiet comfort. “That must’ve been lonely,” I said.

He shook his head thoughtfully. “It was. But we’re together now, so it isn’t all that bad. Plus… your memories are starting to merge with mine. It’s like having two lives inside one mind. This ‘Alex’ name is so strange to me. I’ve always called myself Starvos.”