Pratiksha’s face stared, slack and vacant. Her other face bent into grotesque masks of emotion, which snapped back into place whenever they deviated too far and became impossible.

  Rhode laid his hand on the glass and rubbed away a smudge. <> he apologized.

  <> Pratiksha replied.

  <>

  He sighed.

  <> He ran his hand roughly over his scalp in irritation. <>

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  <> Rhode frowned, <>

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  Pratiksha bared her teeth in a flash of anger. <>

  <>

  Pratiksha blinked in confusion, and she mouthed out words until she pieced out Rhode’s meaning. A drop of blood pattered to the ground and echoed. A door slammed in the distance. The faint sound of shouting voices filtered through the intervening rooms.

  <> he asked.

  She stared at him blankly.

  <>

  Pratiksha looked over her own arm, as if surprised. <> She raised her eyes. <>

  Rhode realized she was looking at his shirt. Crusted blood and sweat made it near impossible to guess that it had been white.

  <>

  Pratiksha shut her eyes and her fingernails swiped over the glass in nervous, rubbery squeaks. <> her voice cracked.

  <>

  <>

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  <>

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Rhode thought about it. He leaned against the glass for a heartbeat, but a long crack pinged an uneven line across the surface. He pulled away with a start.

  <> he considered, <> He shrugged.

  <>

  <>

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  <>

  The Third raised her arm behind her and then let it fall. <>

  Rhode’s eyes darted from room to room, searching out any signs of a figure. <>

  <> Pratiksha insisted.

  Rhode stepped further towards her. <>

  The Third hero snorted. She wiped at her face and smeared a dribble of snot onto her makeshift clothes. <>

  <> Rhode replied. <>

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  <>

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  <>

  <> Rhode chuckled. He soured. <>

  <>

  <>

  Pratiksha’s vacant eyes stared at him. <>

  <>

  <>

  <> Rhode cried in exasperation. <>

  <> Pratiksha pushed Rhode away. <>

  <> He turned his face upwards to avoid meeting her eyes. <>

  The skylight above them had been collecting debris for years. Rotted leaves and twigs piled around the edges, and bird droppings speckled the middle pane. Still, a hint of tropical sunshine burrowed through it. Rhode felt dawn on his face and it wasn’t warm enough.

  “Rhode?” Bt□obhan choked.

  The homunculus flinched. <> he said.