My vision shifts away from seeing the world through the soldier's eyes. Now it seems I'm standing near her by her side as she collapses. Her back against the muddy ground. Her limbs splayed and the rain pouring over her tired body. A frown paints her face with grinding teeth.

"Fuck!" she says, her voice weak and desperate. "Why do you have to leave me, Arizona? I can't believe you'd just disappear like that." She turns her head to the side, wondering if my sister is still there. Unfortunately for her, she has returned to this waking realm.

I say to the soldier with urgency, "What wrong? Get up!"

Her eyes open and finds my presence. "It's you! The spirit."

"Spirit? Is that what I look like to you?"

"I mean, you're some kind of ghost, I think."

I place my hands in front of me. There's a faint glow, but not significant. Though I seem to look translucent. My vision still pierces through my hands, as I can still see the tired soldier on the ground.

I reach for the woman, motioning her. "Can you grab my hand?"

She takes a moment, assessing the situation, looking hesitant. Then she reaches for my hand and latches on to my wrists. A certain coldness flows through my arm. Dark energy perhaps? Maybe it's from the Nightmares she's been fighting. Its residual energy living inside her gauntlets.

I say, "Your hands feel like the surrounding shadows."

With the leverage from my arm, she lifts herself from the ground. Her shoulders slouch and her arms relax, but her attention remains sharp on me. She says, "I have a Runic Drive Module in my gauntlets. I can use it to siphon aether around me and allow it to augment my attacks, often with dark energy."

"Ah, so that's why your hands are cold."

Mathilde Wairen smiles. "It's funny because the first thing that strange woman with the dirty coat asked was about my uniform. Wanna know my secret?"

"I'm good at keeping secrets," I say, though I'm sure Mezos and Samza are listening in on this conversation using their devices.

"I allow the aether to manipulate my body temperature so I can handle harsh environments. In other words, I never feel too hot or cold wearing this uniform, despite what most people think. In fact, I feel very comfortable. It allows me to be flexible and mobile when in battle."

There's no reason for me to be surprised. After all, aether allows for one to possess supernatural abilities. For example, CrystalCorp's new CEO, Octavia Cerayle, manipulates aether to her advantages. She can use it to levitate, create force fields, and cast holy magic. She even combines aether with her company's cybernetics. If aether allows Mathilde Wairen to wear a leotard into battle, then more power to her.

I hear a second voice. It sounds like an older woman, maybe in her late 20s or early 30s. It's calling the name: "Mathilde sae Wairen." Her voice reverberates through the war-torn wastelands like a ghost looking for a sign of the living.

"Do you hear that?" I ask the soldier.

"I do," she says as a smile forms on her face. "It sounds like my mate, Celes. Though it can't be her. She died when The Usurper's forces overwhelmed the village of Belaya Derevnya and took over Castrum Tormenti Spiculum."

Castrum. I assume that's another word for base, camp, or hideout. A duty station for her battalion. I ask, "And where is Belaya Derevnya?"

"About 40 mallums southwest of the Figarosa Imperial Palace."

Mallums. A unit measure that I don't understand. I'll have to ask Mezos what it is equivalent to.

"Tribune Mathilde sae Wairen," the mysterious voice says, its tone louder than before. "You cannot falter. You have a duty to fulfill."

"Celes, are you there?" the soldier asks, gasping.

A figure materializes next to me. The being presents herself as an ethereal woman wearing a blue leotard and a yellow puffy jacket. Her blonde hair is long, going down to her knees, and flows with the gentle breeze. Sapphire eyes bring notice to her mature and beautiful, yet commanding, face. The uniform style matches that of Mathilde Wairen, though instead of thigh-boots, she has bagged pant-legs. Only yellow paddings cover the top of the feet while her heel and toes remain exposed. She looks taller than both the soldier and I by a few centimeters.

"I am here," the woman says. "And you must not fall. Not today. Instead, stay the course and fate will find your truth."

"The course?" Mathilde glances around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. "Where the hells am I? I wonder where that tower was heading. Where am I supposed to go?"

I glance around as well, looking beyond the war-torn battlefield. In one direction, a mountain range watches from afar. In another direction, an isolated dirt road leads to a mysterious place surrounded by a tall thicket of trees.

Looking at the formation of the nearby pile of heavy stone rubble from the former Nightmare tower, it looks like it was heading towards the dirt road. However, I do not know where that road leads.

Mathilde analyzes the ruins of the former tower. Her head turns and resolves her way towards the dirt road, as I would expect. She says, "whatever is beyond that path is in danger of the encroaching Nightmare horde."

The ethereal woman in blue says, "Then it is the path you have chosen. When you are finished with this assignment, look back and see what the other path will bring."

"The other path leads to Mount Tribulation. Do I have a trial there?"

"You do," Celes says with a soft smile. "However, I recommend you bring an ally or two with you. I'm sure you'll run into one when you venture down this road. On the other hand, I suppose you have moral support from your strange friend here." The ghost turns her head to me, then returns her gaze back to Mathilde.

"Understood. Though I don't recall where this road goes."

"Why don't you venture down it and find out?" Celes asks with a wide, elated smile.

"I will," Mathilde Wairen says, proceeding down the road.

—————

I open my eyes and finish my morning meditation. The holo-TV greets me with the same fall scene from last night with the church. Birds chirping and fish jumping. The immerse surround system brings a certain natural feel to the ambiance.

A plate with a short submarine sandwich sits on the side table, waiting for me to consume it. It's from Arizona and she's made me something to eat for breakfast. I know it's going to be good because Arizona made it. She enjoys cooking. It's one of her favorite hobbies. Once the situation with the Nightmares settles down, she wants to start a channel on social media where she makes delicacies and fun eats.

I take a bite. The soft wheat bread feels chewy. Brown mustard is the first condiment to invade my tastebuds. A certain spice sets my culinary world as it paints itself over the crunchy lettuce, ripe sliced tomatoes, onion rings, and layers of cold turkey.

Then I remember it's November. Near the end of the month, America celebrates a holiday called Thanksgiving, where turkey is almost always the main dish. It was also Arizona's birthday a few days ago, on the first of the month. She just turned 18, though most people think she's in her early 20s just by her height and looks.

After finishing my meal and washing it down with some grape juice, I proceed to The Headmaster's Office to meet with Samza and Mezos. However, Samza is not at the office anymore.

Maybe she returned to her quarters inside The Great Tree of Amelia and started playing video games again. Street Fighter, I think. That seems to be her favorite genre of games. She thinks I fight like a character named Ryu. I don't know who that is, but if he was a real person, I wouldn't mind paying him a visit to learn more about his fighting style.

Fortunately, Mezos is there and so is The Headmaster, Dr. Williams.

"Ah, you arrived," Mezos says while waving a greeting hand. "I wanted to go over some things that we've noticed when we monitored your dream."

I ask, "What have you discovered?"

"I know why you sometimes wake up dizzy."

My fingers twirl, imitating the soldier's movements. "I figured out that part. The soldier version of me uses twirling motions in many of her signature attacks. It's rather mesmerizing when I see her fight from the sidelines instead of from her point-of-view."

The boy adjusts his glasses. "I know she's a skilled assassin, but she's venturing into enemy territory by herself. I'll need you to wear the dream recorder again tonight and see what might happen to her."

"Understood, but what do you think could happen to her?" I ask.

"Worst-case scenario is that she gets killed by the Lexia Imperial Army, but with her skills, I doubt that will happen. Instead, I think it would benefit the enemy if she's captured. Soldiers in her position are a wealth of information. Any enemy would do what they can to interrogate her for what she's worth. Regardless of what happens, if she ends up in one of Archaeus' sky fortresses, then we can learn a lot from the Lexia Imperial Army."

So that's where she's going — Archaeus. Sounds like enemy territory if Mezos is right. However, one thought lingers and I ask, "By the way, do you have information on Mathilde's mate?"

Mezos scratches the backside of his head. "I don't think Mathilde ever mentioned the name of her mate. Did she tell you who it is during your meditation session this morning?"

"Her name is Celes," I say. "She's a soldier, just like Mathilde of the otherworld."

"Celes Wairen? I'm assuming the two share the same last name." The boy taps on the side of his glasses. Holographic images float before his eyes, but a red blinking message appears before him. "Unfortunately, I have no data on Celes Wairen. I'm assuming she's from Daigun though. I know there's a famous martial arts circus family from Daigun called The Wairen's Edema Ruh. They travel the world in an exotic airship showcasing their martial arts skills while performing dangerous circus acts. Well, they used to until the Nightmares showed up."

"How about the typical Wairen fighting style? Does it compare to how soldier-me fights?"

A grimace forms on Mezos's face. "The typical Wairen fighting style is like Tae Kwon Do fused with Cirque du Soleil-like acrobatics." The boy pulls up a hologram displaying an animation of a female fighter in a ballet costume showing the art. She twirls and spins like a pinwheel while performing kicking strikes with grace and precision. It's like an elegant yet deadly form of dancing.

"Looks like ballet," I say.

"I know their movements involve a lot of kicking and spinning. However, practicality in the martial art is up in the air. I'd say it's more for show than for actual self-defense. Like kung fu, as seen in popular movies in this world. This contrasts Soldier-Mathilde's style, which involves swift spinning movements and deliberate, often risk-taking, strikes."

Come to think of it, soldier-me takes some serious risks with her movements. I feel that if she fights another martial artist with a similar skill level, her abilities can leave her vulnerable when deflected. I try not to think about it too hard. For now, I hope she'll be okay when I'm ready to dive into her head again.

I ask one more question, "What is a mallum? Soldier-me used it as a unit of a measure when comparing two places of great distances."

"A mallum is equivalent to about one and a half kilometers. The Bektorians and Archaeans use some really weird names for units of measurement. You might hear words like illum, fullum, yarum, and mallum. Those are common units of measurements. For example, your height of 165 centimeters using their Imperial measurement system is about 65 illums. They also have other words for measuring volume, weight, and temperature."

I suppose something like that shouldn't surprise me. A different world would have different ways of measuring things.

—————

Lunchtime comes around and I'm at the Café of The Court, the cafeteria at The Labs. Vines and foliage spread themselves along the walls, pillars, and counters, creating a tropical theme to decorate an otherwise simple eatery. It feels like I'm at an overpriced exotic restaurant. The kind where you have to pay for the water.

Ari arrives at the table holding two plates, one for me and one for her. Her plate has much more food than mine — triple the meat. After all, she loves to eat, but she also loves working out. It's amazing how much protein she consumes every day. In comparison, a hefty burger with three thick meat patties sits on her plate, awaiting consumption while my burger has only one patty. Both burgers have the same toppings, though. Crunchy lettuce, a slice of tomato, grilled onions, sauteed mushrooms, and steak sauce. All between an artisan brioche bun. Well, Ari's burger is also oozing with melted cheese, but I don't like cheese on mine.

"I was thinking about something," Ari says, her mouth partially full with her monster-sized burger. She washes it down with some orange juice and continues. "I can't help but wonder how different your alter-ego acts. For one, she has a dirty mouth. I don't think I have ever heard you drop the f-bomb before."

"I think it's just something about being a soldier," I say before munching a small nibble of my sandwich. "Survival is the first thing on their mind with people-skills much lower in her mental stack."

"You might be right," my sister says. "I guess after being in front of the public eye for so long, I've grown accustomed to keeping a clean mouth. Heck! I know Samza hates it when I say the word 'freaking' all the time." She lets out a hearty laugh.

I scratch my chin, pondering about this strange girl who shares my name. "Nothing wrong about that, I suppose. Though I'll admit her choice of attire for battle has me scratching me my head. Personally, I'd wear nothing like that in a war zone, but I guess when you live in a different world with different standards, anything is possible."

As we continue our meal, Ari pulls out her holographic tablet from her coat's inner pocket. She scrolls through an assortment of feeds of random subject matters. Eventually, she stops at a picture of The Pentagon in Washington, DC. "Oh, it looks like the President is missing." She taps on the thumbnail of the video and the news stream plays.

The reporter brings urgency, stating the President of the United States, Lyss Zauss Stirling, has been missing for the past 72 hours. Her last whereabouts were at The Pentagon, as seen in security footage. It seems she and the Secretary of Defense, General Aurelius Jansen, traversed through a strange waygate in The Pentagon's research sector. Pentagon staff noticed a gruesome blood stain nearby, suggesting a brutal encounter with whatever came from that gate.

My sister taps her fingers on the café table. "Something tells me Rowynn or Mr. Vahn'dien is going to call for a briefing regarding this matter. I know they've been keeping track of the politics going on in the White House over the past few days. Especially since the destruction of The Aether Dome over a week ago." She lets out a heavy sigh. "I hate politics, but if the President is missing, then that's going to lead to all kinds of suck."

It occurred to me. There's an election coming up. America will elect a new president soon. President Lyss Zauss Stirling's second term will end and a new leader will take her place. That's just how the Constitution works. Yet, if the current President is missing, that means the Vice President has to lead in her absence. Last time I checked, Vice President Norse Holden is campaigning to become the next president. That means he's both running an election campaign and watching over the nation when President Stirling is away. Sounds like a tough job, but I guess it's not easy being in a position of power.

I ask, "Do you think President Stirling actually went through that waygate?"

"Maybe," she says, her voice low while continuing to munch on her burger. "If she did, then I wonder how she activated the gate in the first place. I also wonder what's on the other side. Maybe it's like the waygate in The Great Tree's inner sanctum."

That's the gate where Rowynn, Vahn'dien, Dax, and the Reul-Sìthe fae came from many years ago. If the waygate at The Pentagon is like the waygate here, then it must lead to somewhere in Esthial, the homeworld of this island's residents.

"Maybe Samza and Mezos might know," I say, smiling at my sister.

"Perhaps," she says, leaning back on the cafeteria chair with both hands behind her head. "Though I don't think the Pentagon staff would simply let us waltz right in. Mr. Vahn'dien will have to negotiate terms with them before we can investigate it."

"You're right, considering the government clearances that may be required to venture into certain parts of The Pentagon. For now, I suppose our only access to Esthial is through our dreams."

"Yeah, it's weird how that works." Ari takes one final bite of her burger and washes it down. "Anyway, I'm going to hit the gym and do some lifting. Wanna come?"

I suppose it wouldn't hurt to build a little muscle. I'm underweight for my size, so some weight-training could benefit me. My weight stands at 50 kilograms, but Arizona suggests I should bulk up to between 57 and 61 kilos for my height of 165 centimeters. So, I accompany her to the gym and start my journey to get those gains.

I don't expect results overnight, but after an hour of lifting weights, it feels like I'm making progress. My arms feel sore though, but as the old saying goes: no pain, no gain. Or Arizona's favorite saying: pain is weakness leaving the body. I'm not sure if I like that quote, but I know it's a popular one amongst military service personnel.

—————

Before I doze off to bed, I take a moment to think about the other me. The one who wears the black leotard and has pink hair. The courage she has to battle Nightmares by herself is unreal. Yet, it can also inspire in strange ways. She feels like a superhero from a comic book. I don't know any soldier in this world who would wear something like what she's wearing in the heat of battle, but I try not to fixate my attention on it. After all, she comes from a different world. Maybe that's a normal thing for her battalion. For now, I have to accept that she's different from me, despite she and I sharing the same first name.