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51

Are you real? Dorin was positive that was what Banno had said, but he couldn't understand what he meant by that. All he knew for certain was that he had to move, and he had to do it right now. That thing (it may look like a Wolf, but it was no more a Wolf than the Cora statue) was coming closer by the second, and he didn't want to be anywhere near it when- when...

When what, exactly?

He didn't know that either, but he could sense it coming.

"Aisa," he said, feeling like he was trying to talk through a mouthful of soggy tree moss. "Aisa... come on..."

She was staring at the scene unfolding before them all; the slow, steady progress of the Wolf thought to be dead (an issue still up for debate, in Dorin's humble opinion) and the retreat of the Wolf with all the power in the world, reduced to a blubbering mess.

"Real? What kind of an idiotic question is that?" Wardo shrieked. "Of course I'm real!"

Banno kept coming, leaving a bright spot of blood in the snow every time he walked on the raw, tattered stump where his foot used to be. It was like he didn't even know about it, but how could that be? Was he simply too numb from the cold to feel any pain?

Everything about this was so wrong Dorin could barely wrap his aching head around it.

He had to grab hold of Aisa's shoulder and give her a furious shake to get her attention. "Come on, we have to get out of here!" he hissed in her face.

She blinked, then finally understood. "O-Okay."

They were both in bad shape, but they managed to support each other just enough to get back on their feet and shuffle away from that damnable hole in the ground. Everyone was so absorbed with the impossible confrontation between Banno and Wardo that no one tried to stop them.

"Ivio! Grab Denko and let's go!"

"Where to, Sai?"

"Anywhere, just hurry!"

With that cut in his cheek, Banno was able to smile even wider than Wardo, and he was doing so right now, smiling so broadly that the thin layer of dried blood holding everything together suddenly split right along the seam, sending a small rivulet of blood flowing down his jaw. And that face, by the Cora, that hideous, awful face. No face was supposed to look like that. No matter the angle, no matter the dividing line, no side was symmetrical to the other. The broken smile, the leather patch, the bloody scorch marks - it hurt Dorin's eyes just looking at it.

"Are you, Wardo?" he asked, blood dripping from his chin. "Are you real?"

"Yes!"

"Are you sure?" Banno's face was becoming more bizarre by the second. It used to make sense, at first, even with the disfigurement, but now it was as though it didn't even exist in the same world as everyone else, as if the things it saw and heard were completely different. The way Banno's head was tilted to the side, the way he was staring at Wardo like a piece of meat with that single, bloodshot eye, the way the left side of his mouth was turned up into a bloody grin that reached almost all the way up to his ear, it created a sense of 'disconnect' in Dorin's mind, like he wasn't really looking at a Wolf's face at all, but rather something only pretending to be a Wolf's face, like a mask. But if that thing was only a mask, then what was under it? If Banno wasn't really a Wolf, then what was that thing walking along the Cora's shadow, smiling so happily when, by all rights, it should be dead?

What the hell was that thing!?

"Y-Yes." Wardo stammered. "What kind of game are you playing at, huh!? I am real! I am absolutely real!"

"You didn't sound too sure of yourself that time, Wardo. But that's okay. Let's find out if you really are real... or not."

Ivio and Denko had made it to the inner edge of the crowd, and Aisa and Dorin weren't far behind. They probably would have made it if they kept going full-out, but Dorin couldn't. He had to stop. He had to look back, and what he saw...

What he saw was far worse than any illusion his guilt-ridden brain could ever have conjured up.

*

real real are you real are you really real are you sure

let's find out

Banno reached out, lightning quick, and grabbed hold of his prey. It had just enough time to open its mouth to scream, but not enough time for the scream itself, not before Banno bit down on its nose, sinking his fangs deep into the soft, slightly wet meat. He jerked his head back and ripped the whole thing off in a shower of blood.

Wardo stumbled back, both hands clasped over the crimson waterfall spouting out of his face, like he was trying to dam it all up. His eyes were huge like pottery lids, and his mouth was wide open. He made the funniest noises, kind of gaspy, like he was about to sneeze, and then it burst out of him all at once, quite possibly the loudest scream Banno had ever heard. Wardo dropped his hands, soaked in blood, and revealed a sight gruesome enough to make grown Wolves double over and vomit into the snow.

Wardo's nose was gone. All that was left was a gaping red cave, spouting blood. It bubbled out of his exposed nasal passages with every gargled breath. The snow at his feet got drenched in a matter of moments and thin tendrils of steam were already rising into the frigid air.

Banno took a moment to inspect the piece of meat in his mouth, dragging his tongue over the tough, crinkly texture. It was nothing special. He chewed it up a bit, but it was mostly just a nasty piece of cartilage and quickly crumbled into revolting little chunks. The blood wasn't particularly flavourful, either. It was just the regular old iron taste, no different from a rabbit's. There was no life in this at all.

He gathered it up and spat it back out in a repulsive little pile, utterly disgusted by the way the chunks stuck together for a moment and then slowly fell apart, still connected by thick ropes of blood and drool.

And still, Wardo was screaming his head off, staring down at the fountain at the end of his face all cross-eyed as the torrent washed over his trembling fingers.

This was the Wolf they chose to replace his father? Seriously? They were both fakes, but at least Father had some dignity.

That heat was rising inside his head again, that sweltering anger that made the edges of his vision fade into bands of red and black. He knew he shouldn't be doing stuff like this where everyone could see. He knew he shouldn't be exposing these figments to their creator, to the real reason any of them were 'alive' and 'breathing', but...

He didn't care anymore. He. Just. Didn't. Care!

Banno grabbed hold of his father's necklace and ripped it off this creature's neck just as he had ripped the nose from its face. It reached out to him with crimson hands, absolutely pathetic. "Noooo!! Mine!! Miiiiiiiine!!" It begged and shrieked all at once, choking on its own flavourless blood. Banno wished for nothing more than for an endless hole to appear beneath this yammering thing's feet and swallow him whole, so his world could be rid of it forever.

And, as was always the case, the world obliged.

"Mine now," Banno said, planted his foot against the screaming animal's scar-torn chest, and kicked out, sending it floundering backwards, blood still gushing from its face. It teetered on the edge of a pit at the statue's feet, flailing its arms. It screamed in terror, blood flowing into its open mouth, gargling at the back of its throat. For a moment it looked like it was about to regain its balance, but Banno did not want it to regain its balance, and what he did not want would not exist for much longer. The world itself would see to it, because the world itself was merely a part of him, just like everything in it.

The dirt and snow, splattered with blood, crumbled beneath the creature's feet and it simply disappeared, screaming, into the darkness below.

Dead blood on his tongue, dead screams filling the air, burrowing into his ears. Did they belong to Wardo, or the rest of them? Banno wasn't sure, and neither did he care. The pain in his head was growing, blocking out all thought. There were so many words floating around, shouting, yelling... making it worse...

"By the Cora he killed Wardo!"

"The Chieftain!"

"What have you done, you maniac!? You monster!"

Inconsequential. All of it. The movements in the corner of his eye, dozens of shapes rushing in, weapons drawn. He would kill them all, if he needed. Even if he didn't need to, he'd still kill them. Because... because that was the way it would all end eventually, wasn't it? He would just keep on killing and killing, until there was nothing left, until he was the only life left in this world, the way it was supposed to be.

Chains, feeding into the mouth of the world... His mouth? Rattling, making noise, a bad noise, annoying noise, metallic and sharp, working their way into his ears like maggots, like cold into skin. Moans, gasps, snuffled breathing, whimpers, crying, begging, pathetic yelping, all coming from the deep black. He would put a stop to it... He would make it nice and quiet again...

A shape, flat and lifeless, no more than a shadow, axe in hand -

That axe is more real than the hand holding it, Banno thought, still listening to the strange sounds coming from the hole...

"You bastard! I'm gonna k-"

Banno's reach was far greater than the foolish young thing charging in, even with the axe. He simply grabbed it by the face and squeezed, pushing his claws deep inside its flesh. It screamed and dropped the axe, its only protection, and clawed at Banno's hand in a desperate frenzy.

You came to Me, approached Me, tried to touch Me...?

Without even bothering to check who was writhing and screaming at the end of his arm, shredding its own face to pieces in its panicked attempts to get away, Banno shoved it back, sending it ploughing into the snow where it curled up into a tight little ball, crying and bleeding in a spreading puddle of its own urine.

Disgusting.

The other shapes kept well back. Even with spears and axes, they were far too afraid to approach him.

As they should be.

"Kole! By the Cora are you all right!? Hey!"

"Somebody shoot that bastard!"

That strange noise was still coming out of the pit. Banno blinked, trying to get rid of that odd red cloud in his eye long enough to see what was actually going on.

There were chains coming out of the hole in a spoked pattern, all tied to stakes imbedded in the ground. They reminded Banno of the tripwires used by some tunnelling spiders. A few closest to him were all bunched up together and were scraping back and forth across the lip of the hole, rattling and jangling, crumbling the edge even further. Moans and grunts and inarticulate cries floated up from the shadows, a familiar voice, pleading.

Banno approached the pit and slowly leaned over the edge.

Wardo was hanging on by the chains, frantically trying to climb up like an exceptionally ugly spider, but all the blood gushing from his stubby muzzle wasn't doing him any favours. The chains were absolutely soaked in it, and his hands kept slipping. Every time this happened a pathetic little mewl would come flying out of his mangled face, and all Banno had to do to understand his terror was look just a little bit further, at what was beyond the shadows.

The bottom of the pit was covered in biters, the same contraption that had claimed Banno's own foot. Come to think of it, was Wardo not the creator of those vile little mechanisms? How poetic.

Wardo looked up and saw him staring down at his final moments. He tried to say something, but the only sound that came out was a wet gargle.

Would it succeed, or would it fall? Would it live, or would it die?

Banno watched with great interest, like a child fascinated by the feeble attempts of a small insect trying to crawl out of an antlion's pit, fighting for its life.

The corners of his mouth turned up and his shredded cheek yawned wide. He was smiling, and this one was not an act. It was not a mask. It was not fake.

It was real.