I convinced Roman to find Mira and pretend we were the version of us from fake Solima as soon as possible. I was glad he didn't try to hinder my plan, though he had every right to. Killing fake Jonathan and fake Roman might just be useless. I had no proof it was part of any simulation or trial.

But, at the same time, the two of them weren't us in a different universe, not really. I was sure of that. It was clear by now there were no humans on the Other Side.

I started calling them demonic doubles, when we spoke of them. Since Roman had been on edge since he'd seen his demonic double throw a knife at my double's nether parts, he looked relieved we decided the pair was evil and had to be destroyed.

"Your demonic double hasn't done anything bad," Roman couldn't help but mutter along the way.

"Yet," I sped up when I noticed Mira's care home in the distance. "I have this very important rule that says that you cannot get your hopes up. Just because something hasn't happened yet doesn't mean it won't."

"You? You keep calm and a collected face even under pressure," Roman scowled. "You joke when you're poisoned."

"I do see the bright side, but it doesn't mean I don't know when it's just a small crack in the darkness..."

I stopped speaking as soon as I saw Mira walking out of the place. I knew what I looked like --- I still had blood on me and my white shirt was torn in a few places. Besides I'd never worn it without the jacket, in public, and it really was more like an undershirt, making me feel almost naked.

But her eyes widened. At first I thought she was looking at Roman with that expression, almost motherly, because I recalled fake Jonathan telling fake Roman how much the woman babied him. But then I realised fake Mira was looking at me like that.

Probably unaware of the blood, she caught me by surprise in a hug and exclaimed, "Jonathan! You're looking good!"

Then, she noticed the blood. Her eyebrows went up, clearly trying not to judge. She just said, "Have you been hanging out with those tourists again? Mina and Lucy?"

My smile got frozen in place. Roman was looking at me weirdly.

"Oh, but I probably shouldn't have mentioned them in front of you!" Mira patted Roman's arm. "You're always saying Jonathan shouldn't play with people."

I knew it wasn't real, not of us, anyway, but my throat felt dry and my tongue was still stuck. I could just mutter, "No, Roman would never say that..."

"Roman?" Mira asked, raising one of her eyebrows. There was something wrong. Minx hadn't recognized the Prophet by name either. Was it possible that fake Roman's name wasn't even Roman?

"I'll get some water so you can get cleaned up," Mira told me, worriedly, as she hurried inside the care home. Visually, it looked similar to the abandoned warehouse where we stayed in Solima. It was a doubt I'd had before, that the warehouse was the care home in this world, and this was how I'd been able to find it.

"Don't freak out," Roman told me after taking a look at my face.

"I never freak out," I replied, feeling a little bit like Judith and Delilah. I made a point not to argue as much, so I wouldn't have to be reminded of the two of them forever. "But Mira saw the blood and connected it to Mina and Lucy."

"You don't know that's what happened," Roman said uncharacteristically kindly. "What I meant before was, I came up to a conclusion as to why people don't know my name. My father named me after a Watcher he felt he owed a favour to, someone who saved his life in his youth. Since in this world there are no Watchers, it's obvious my father named me after something else."

It made sense. Mira came out with a basin of water and a sponge and she started wiping the blood away from my arms and my shirt. I didn't find it to be an intimate gesture or anything, but I was a little upset.

"Is it just me or does Jonathan look normal now?" Mira asked Roman.

The Prophet took a long look at me. "I think so."

"So you'd say he's not feeling that unsettled?" Mira whispered.

"I can hear everything," I pointed out. In hindsight, I shouldn't have had --- if Mira felt free to gossip about me, she'd start spilling beans about fake Jonathan.

"Oh, Jonathan, look at your face! You don't know how worried we've been," Mira said emotionally. "You might not remember all of it by now, but when the demonic disease started infecting some people, there were those who took it worse than others. You lost your mind. You went through a very long time of grief. We didn't know if you would ever go back to the way you were..."

"But the demonic disease gives the healing powers and lets one cultivate immortality," Roman said, to gather more information. "What's so bad about that?"

"You're always saying that," Mira scolded him. "If it didn't sound so crazy, I'd say you wished you were infected yourself. But I think Jonathan wants to be human, just like everyone else. That was what he was mourning."

Suddenly, I wasn't there with Mira and Roman anymore. I was inside of a basement, and I was scared and young. In my hands rested my first sword, not the one made of sardo but a regular one forged from steel. It was heavy for me, and I was clumsy with it. I'd never used it before outside of practice. 

And then suddenly, a figure started appearing out of the shadows. It was a Creature. I'd never seen one before, and I knew that it would kill me. The Creature started making its way towards me. I could see that it had huge horns...

When I realised I'd been spacing out, I also noticed I'd started running. I sat under a tree, and Mira was next to me now. I didn't know where Roman was, but judging by the relationship the fake one had with my demonic double, I'd say Mira probably just told him I needed time alone and not to bother me.

"I understand if you're upset," she told me calmly. "But what you've never known is that you have people there for you. I'm here for you. He is."

Judging from her tone, I understood he was Roman. 

"It might not look like it," she added. "But I'll let you in on a secret. When you first fell ill, he spent months glowering at the people who were out with town with you when it happened. He could be distant, cruel and callous towards them. He never let the matter drop. Did he envy you? Maybe. But at the same time, he was the first to notice how uncomfortable you were. He was the first to point out how much you've changed."

I knew that demonic doubles were just make believe people of black magic. I wouldn't put it past demons like Alefpeneash to be creating this very reality. But at the moment, I couldn't help but feel a little warmer inside. And there was another matter... Somehow, I wanted to know more about my demonic double. There was one thing I needed to understand about him.

"I know I don't live with you anymore," I tried for a smooth approach. "But would you empty out a space for me at the care home when I feel like visiting? A room where I can draw and make models and mock-ups for my inventions?"

I was just testing it out. Something told me that version of Jonathan was not one who gathered ideas and brainstormed topics for a revolutionary journal, so I had to see what else he liked.

"Your inventions?" Mira laughed. "I could give you Minx' room, since he won't crash around here anymore. First, I have to take out all of his make-up supplies and stage clothes, for the play he puts on in the evening for the children. I think that they will miss him, indeed."

"But still," she added. "I didn't know you were getting seriously worked up on your inventions. I should have guessed that when you created your Golem Josiah, it wasn't just a phase."

"It wasn't," I replied, while every single particle of me was screaming, Golem? Josiah?

"It was only three inches tall, but so clever," Mira laughed again, this time heartily. "He always gave you answers about every topic you asked of. And sometimes when you asked nonsense, he replied giving you what for."

"Sounds like something Roman would teach him," I replied.

"Yes, you've said it before."

In the meantime, my heart was growing wary. I didn't want to hope against every expectation that this Jonathan would turn out to be a good, or interesting person. I'd seen what Roman's demonic double was capable of. Still, it looked as if this Jonathan didn't have all the answers of the universe inside of himself. He had them inside of his Golem. And he still didn't know which questions to ask.

"So what do I do..." I ventured again. "In my free time? Now that I'm feeling better?"

Mira told me basically not to do any of the things I've been doing before, and I couldn't help but pale when I heard a brief description. Then, I decided that some things just couldn't wait, and I was on my way back to Roman.

"Why the sour face?" the Prophet asked me.

"Fake Jonathan seems to be quite the scandal," I replied glowering. "He seduced a lot of people, apparently. He's got a notebook with all their names written down, and he's jotted down what he did and with whom. When your demonic double found that out, he was strangely upset, according to Mira."

"And..." Roman asked.

"I've flirted with boys and girls before!" I had trouble keeping my cool. "I've played the fool, and kissed people. But I could never... I've never done things as tasteless as those. I wouldn't. I don't have it in me. Believe it or not."

"I believe you. But you're getting worked up, you, who barely gets worked up, when you previously told me how much I shouldn't think of my demonic double's cruelty."

"Because I've seen the way you looked at him, Roman," I explained. "You were furious. You were looking at him as if whomever thought about doing this to me deserved two knives in the place of their eyes. So when it comes to choose between you and the demonic double, excuse me but I know which one is the real one."

I went on to explain about the fake Jonathan's lack of hobbies and perks, but when Roman pointed out that his double only seemed to show promise when it came to knives and songs, and I reminded him that the song was not nice, we could only laugh along.

Still, there was a reason I'd pestered fake Mira, and the reply I'd gotten only confirmed some of my fears.

"According to Mira's descriptions, we should find fake Jonathan in a flashy inn, some place where everyone goes and people drink, but seedy enough that they let rascals in too," I explained. "And unfortunately I know a few of those places myself."

"Don't let it get to your head," Roman warned me. "Not only they're not us, but your demonic double lost his mind. He's got a reason for being the way he is."

Mira's words were back in my mind. Jonathan wants to be human, just like everyone else. That was what he was mourning.

If I closed my eyes or let my mind wander, I knew I'd be back in the basement, with the horned Creatures staring me down and the heavy sword in my hand.

When I found the first inn that resembled my description, a place called The Sand Cat, I kicked down the door with my boot.

Nobody seemed to notice it. Most people were already drunk out of their minds. In the midst I saw myself.

Judging at a closer look, I could see fake Jonathan did not, in fact, look exactly like me. He was much slimmer --- I mean, I was lean, but he looked frail and sick. And the lack of chest muscles and broad shoulders made me understand he wasn't a swordsman. I wasn't brawny either, since I only used a long sword and those were just a little heavier than rapiers. Still the demonic double made me look strapping in comparison. His hair was longer and unkempt and it appeared darker because his face that was paler than mine. His green eyes had dark circles around them.

"He's so drunk and shabby," I mused out loud. "That if he's greeted by a much healthier version of him with a sword and common sense, he might not notice that we look alike for the first few minutes."

"You know," Roman said. "You don't look that much healthier now, what with all the blood you lost and the fact that we haven't slept."

Still, approaching fake Jonathan was the only idea we had. I paced across the room with my hand on the pommel of my sword, as I didn't want to waste any time.

My demonic double raised his head to face me. The pungent smell of alcohol reminded me of something, and it wasn't just Athanasios when he decided to drain the bottle. I decided to be over with, and pointed the tip of my sword at his neck.

I could feel Roman tense. He probably didn't like the idea of killing any version of me, but I felt simply too detached to consider it.

"Any last words?" I asked.

"They say death takes the form of the most beguiling seductress you can imagine, so it makes sense that when the time comes, the reaper would look like me," he said quickly, without blinking.

"Are you for real?"

"Yes, but you must be not. I must be dreaming. Or you must be Bertha. The doctor. The last time I took a blood sample, she told me she could kill me just for my humor."

As much as I didn't want fake Jonathan's last words to be those, I still slashed his throat. I felt Roman flinching, and I reminded myself that it was not because of the act. We'd already told each other being ruthless was fine a few times before. It was the sight of me, laying on the table with blood pouring out my throat.

"And now," I told Roman. "We wait for your demonic double to show up when word spreads."

"I could point out a lot of things that are about to go wrong, but first I need to ask," Roman leaned against the wall, tired and, if I understood anything of his family situation, probably triggered by the smell of booze. "Why wasn't there anything wrong with Mira's demonic double?"

"Unless the senses of a boy who saw Athanasios came home drunk every other evening fail me now, I could swear fake Mira was an alcoholic. She just hid it well."

"Oh. I would have never thought... Then again, I sure hope my demonic double's faults aren't mine, too."

"We've been over this," I replied.

"Then tell me what's weighing on your mind, because you were much more cheerful when you were being poisoned. I saw you kick down that door. I noticed you haven't been making small talk. I saw you cut the throat of your demonic double..."

"You will kill yours mercilessly too," I warned him. "Just wait and see. It should happen in a matter of minutes."

"Perhaps, but I saw mine use yours as target practice. Your demonic double was just pathetic."

Roman, who no doubt believed that every experience beat seeing your fake self using his only friend as dartboard, realised the meaning of his words too late.

"Yes, pathetic," I replied. "That's the problem. You see, I've always known that without my wings, or my sword, or Athanasios' upbringing, really, I would be pathetic. Fickle, superficial. Without a grand design or a steady path to walk. Even the politics, I was in it just because I've grown up alongside the Court. I've seen injustices happen many more times than you can know. But this demonic double doesn't have any of that. He just proved how useless I could, deep down, be."

I was horrified. I ranted and said too much. But Roman did not seem to find it pitiful. He just put a hand upon my shoulder, touching me in the way I preferred --- his pat light as a feather, just brushing my skin.

"You do not have to think of it like that," he told me. "I have the same thoughts going on about my double's cruelty and lack of manners. But I wager that, when we find out what all of this was for, we'll realise that those doubts were part of what we're here to learn."

He sounded undecided himself, but I took his word for it.

"Besides, I know you," he added. "And as serious as it sounds, I know it's not the only thing weighting on your mind."

Before I could reply, or change topic, the door was opened and fake Roman charged inside. 

"Hey!" a drunk man yelled. "That is the man who cheated me at cards!"

"I didn't cheat, I just always win," fake Roman replied. "Except for that one time, with Athanasios, and I still stand by the idea that he was the one who cheated."

"Yes, that was the time you had Mira throw a charity ball for the care home and invited Athanasios for a rematch," a woman agreed. "And then word on the street said Athanasios left offended when your friend Jonathan pointed out he was too old for his wife Penelope."

"Speaking of Jonathan," the woman added. "Doesn't he look a bit too still?"

About thirty faces turned around at the same time and took in first the view of fake Jonathan sprawled on the table with blood pouring out a cut on his throat, and then Roman and I leaning against a wall. And then, when people noticed there were two Jonathans, one dead and one alive, and two very alive Romans, they started screaming.

Fake Roman took off his shirt, as if it was required to initiate a fight and started battling us with his knives, bare-chested. I tried really hard not to look, and I hoped the real one didn't notice my eyes wavering.

"What is he half naked for?" real Roman asked me when we found ourselves back to back. "Is he really that ill-mannered?"

"Have you noticed how this world is always a little bit perverse?" I bit back.

"You're looking at him."

"Be reasonable, Roman, I cannot look at him in the face, can I? He's too tall."

The Prophet seemed to find the half-naked version of him an insult to his taste. He threw a couple of knives, and hurt the demonic double before he could be hurt himself. I noticed that real Roman had better aim even than the fake one. If I didn't trust him, this would have made me feel a little uneasy. But I did trust him.

When it was clear fake Roman was dead, the people in the inn started circling around us. I wondered whether they were going to get us arrested. How would prisons in fake Solima look like? I'd seen the inside of the ones in the real city a few times by now.

I had to lean against the wall again, for I felt all my energy leaving me. I suspected I never really gained back strength from our fight against Alefpeneash, and I just couldn't go on.

Roman stood a few steps away from me, and I could feel something tingling on my skin. I imagined it was his magic, even though it was faint here, that was keeping me awake.

"Were you about to tell me something?" Roman asked. "Before the other me burst through the door?"

"Yes, I've finally cracked the code," I replied, almost fainted with exhaustion. "Between the bawdy song your double was singing and my double's tasteless jokes, I finally found out what separates the four of us. They were deprived of a sense of humor."

Then, I slumped against the wall and passed out on the floor.