As you place your hands upon the stone, its surface ripples beneath your touch. A chill washes over your arms, like plunging your hands into a mountain stream.

As you close your eyes, you blink and re-open them - your eyes are brimming with tears, and you are overcome with a terrible sensation of *drowning*. As the sensation rolls through you, there is a stirring in your breast, a *hunger*, poisonous like a serpent, BITING into your heart, until you feel as if your breast will *explode.* You want desperately to steady yourself, focus, but all that comes to your eye is tears...

You raise your hand to wipe away your tears - your hands are soft, delicate woman's hands; they brush the stray tears from your cheek, and you cup them in your hands, each of the tears like jewels shimmering in the lights...

The lights are cast by candle-globes that drift through your sanctuary. You have come this place to gather your thoughts, to reflect on the past with an eye toward the future, to cleanse the mind before the coming journey. Yet... you cannot *concentrate*! Your thoughts remain in the present, trapped there by the terrible feeling that writhes in your breast. What did he MEAN...?!

You close your eyes, but his words echo in your mind, a hundred, a THOUSAND times. Will he EVER return?! The sound is a whisper, an echo: "Only you. ONLY you." Yet you HESITATED, at the brink of time's door, and he must have thought you AFRAID to go, but you were not, you were AFRAID to stay, and the fear... the serpent writhes in your breast again, its fangs biting into your heart, filling it to bursting with its *poison*. The tears come again, running down your cheeks in streams, his words echoing...

Echo: "Only you. ONLY you."

Your eyes snap open - it is HIS voice! You whirl, and you gasp; he stands, powerful, in the shadows, and he strides into the light of the drifting candled globes, and you feel the serpent writhing and DYING... he returned! His face, stern, but somewhere, in those features, you can almost see his pleasure at seeing you. After all, he returned for y-

Echo: "Only you can help me, Deionarra. But it was wrong for me to ask you for your help..."

You speak... Deionarra... yet you, it is YOU, gray-skinned like a statue, striding from the light - are you that *scarred*?! Your body looks like it has been bathed in knife blades, the wounds, the tattoos, horrible - yet, you see through DEIONARRA'S EYES, and she sees... how can she SEE you in such a way, she puts a CLOAK over your features, she sees you in such *light*, such terrible longing, *light*... for she...how... can she FEEL such...?

You feel your vision tearing, doubling until you are that man striding from the light, it IS you, but NOT you... you feel yourself being TORN; it is Deionarra's experience, but at the same time, it is also *yours*, and you... what...

Echo: "I asked too much of you to accompany me, Deionarra. I have no right to place you in such danger for my sake..."

It is your words, but they are a surgeon's words, chosen with cold skill, without a TRACE of emotion. With every word, you feel yourself SNEERING inside, knowing what the (stricken) girl will see next through her (longing-stained) eyes, and who - are you THAT person, that man TWISTING her with your words, not KNOWING how powerful they are to her, like bolts from a ballista, piercing her breast, her... yet, she SEES only RELIEF at your return. How... how can she FEEL... and not know you mean to...?

Echo: "I have come to ask your forgiveness, Deionarra. I shall return to you as soon as I am able -"

Your vision tears again, doubling and bleeding, until you are facing yourself again, trying desperately to speak, to WARN Deionarra that this is not a man, but a creature that kills for his own needs, he doesn't CARE about you, Deionarra, you are a TOOL to him, a TOOL he needs to - but Deionarra speaks, and you can't STOP her....

Echo: "I would place myself in a *thousand* dangers, embrace eternity for you, my Love! I am *not* afraid! Listen to me -- I will accompany you, though the Planes themselves should bar -"

"...though the Planes themselves should bar the way...." You feel yourself shattering, relief and satisfaction - his SATISFACTION at her words, KNOWING she would say them, always KNOWING, and her admission of love is like the slamming of a portcullis across your heart. Trapped. She is yours, but you must be *certain*, so you drive the nail home.

Echo: "The way is dangerous. You will have to be strong... *far* stronger than you are now."

Swimming through her mind, relief, the wave of relief, the end of longing, yet LONGING for him more at his words, not noticing his manipulations... all you need to be is strong, and his path shall be as one with yours! Your thoughts are like fires... for you can be strong, stronger than he knows, you know no fear, you would DIE for him...!

Echo: "I can be strong, my Love. I will -"

Her words slide off of him like water. The serpent in her breast, the one piercing her heart with its poison has been replaced by this serpent in the flesh. She sees nothing of this, and his next words are planned, carefully, so carefully...

Echo: "I can't say if we'll succeed, Deionarra, but I'll do my best to protect you. And I will expect nothing less of the same from you. You..."

"...you may be required to make some *sacrifices*." At that final, terrible, word, you feel yourself being TORN apart; he means her harm... he means YOU harm, for you are HER, and he means to HURT her, yet you NEED her to be harmed, and - you want to SCREAM, SCREAM AT HER THAT SHE IS IN DANGER, RUN, RUN, DEIONARRA, FOR HIS EYES UNMAKE ALL THINGS AND -

Echo: "Of course, my Love. Life is sacrifice. This I have learned."

You... she... her... you speak the words, and in it, you feel yourself dying inside. You are a spectator, and you have watched a woman die, for the words are a death sentence. Yet, still, still she speaks, unheeding, uncaring....

Echo: "I... left a legacy in my father's keeping, my Love; ask for the sixth, the third, the Kay and the 'S.' In it, I bequeath everything to you; it's not much, but with it, I left..."

You... him... a wave of *irritation* washes over you; you clench your teeth to prevent the irritation from crossing your features. Must she *always* continue to prattle, even when you do not *prompt* her?! Must she - but no - no, keep the irritation inside, only a trace slips out...

Echo: "Come now, I cannot DIE, Deionarra. There is no NEED for such foolishness..."

Her... you... she is overcome with FEAR, fear that revolts you, and the fear wells up inside her... you, you as you watch him frown, and you hasten to correct him! He must know the reasons and know the wisdom behind them so he is impressed with your planning! Speak! Speak, before he turns away...

Echo: "I know I often act foolishly, my Love...but you said yourself that you CAN forget things if you are badly hurt. There are things in the legacy that could help you remember should you forget yourself."

She... you coldly regard her through your eyes, tracing your gaze along her furrowed brow, wrinkled with worry, desperation. She has acted as you *expected*... yet there is something in what she says...

Echo: "Perhaps... yet I hope nothing in this legacy is of *value*...I do not want you to leave any things here in some safe that could be of some use on our journey."

Her illusion is shattered, just for a moment - you watch, silent, as the emotion falls to the ground, splintering like silvered glass. "...of some use..." such a casual statement, yet even Deionarra SEES, and you hope, just for a moment, you HOPE that she SEES him for what he is... the serpent, the SERPENT...

...and your hope dies, as in Deionnara's eyes, the emotion is rebuilt, the slivers being drawn from the ground, the illusion rebuilt, but the slight sliver of pain remains. He thinks you have done something foolish! Yet, you did it for HIM! You must... must make amends, but how?! You must convince him the legacy is unimportant, but it ISN'T, it ISN'T. It's EVERYTHING...

Echo: "The legacy, my Love, it... it just has a few things to help you remem --"

The scythe of words falls on Deionarra, so quick, so sharp, you cannot follow its arcing path.

Echo: "A legacy? The things you do, Deionarra... such... *romantic* gestures. No matter..."

No! She... you... Deionarra... you have driven him away again, like you did the night before! You feel the serpent stirring again, reborn, curling around your heart. There is the softest of hisses, yet he does not hear...

Echo: "Would... would you wish to leave a legacy, my Love? For yourself.. or for anyone you would want to. It might help you remember if you left something for yourself... or for the ones you loved..."

The word scythe falls again, terrible and swift. Yet this time, the illusion holds, and the serpent is cloaked. The serpent is cunning, and it shall not reveal itself until it strikes.

Echo: "A legacy for myself? Not likely... the things I would leave for myself would not be safe in some advocate's office, Deionarra. But enough of this... I must leave."

He is leaving! You must make him remain... and the experience SWIRLS around you, terrible, the spiraling toward the final scene... the QUESTION you... she... wants to ask, don't ask it, Deionarra! Don't ASK IT BE SILENT BE SILENT

Echo: "My Love, before you go..."

HIS ANGER HIS IRRITATION WHAT *NOW* GIRL WHAT *NOW* YOU MEWLING BANSHEE

Echo: "'Before I go?' It looks like I am in no danger of that. Come, Deionarra, can't these questions wait for the morn? There is much-"

SHE... YOU... SHE IS DESPERATE DROWNING SAY IT SAY IT SAY IT AND SHE... YOU... SPEAK IT

Echo: "Do you *want* me to come with you, my Love?"

The rush of emotion dies in your mind. This is the end. The words he... you... are about speak are true, but the truth is not the truth she sees. There are no lies, only cold calculations. Of *course* he wants you to come with him, Deionarra. You understand it clearly, too clearly: He has invested too much in the poor girl to let her go.

Echo: "Of course, Deionarra. I would not have asked you to come with me if I did not want your company. You *know* how I feel about you..."

There is a cold silence in his mind, then a hissing of a thought, a response sharp and deadly, like a dagger blade. The lie comes swiftly, unburdened by emotion.

Echo: "I love you, Deionarra."

And you want to SCREAM as you feel the lie wash over her like a RADIANCE, but it is a SHADOW of TRUTH, A SERPENT'S KISS, AND HE MEANS YOU HARM AND SHE CAN'T *SEE* YOU WANT TO CALL OUT BUT SHE IS CRYING WITH JOY EVEN AS - EVEN AS -

The emotion washes over you, like you are drowning, DROWNING, and you need to speak, you LONG to speak, but you cannot...and...

...and you scream, scream as you tear your hands from the stone, bloody tears rushing from your eyes, running in streams down your arms, your hands, to coat the stone. Blood! Her blood! And... you can't WARN her... and you can't stop CRYING...

As much as you want to hurl the memory of the experience from you, you hold it fast, because you know it's important to remember it. It was *you* in that experience... it was Deionarra's experience, but because it was you, your memories flooded you, and you could FEEL both sides at once. Who WERE you? Who was that... that *shade* of you?
-Sensory Stone

The man before you resembles you, but he carries himself more like a force than a man. His eyes are watching you carefully, and as you study him, you feel him studying you. "So... it has come to this."

"Who are you?"

"I will not surrender my name to you or any man." The man's voice is rough, like yours, and it rings strangely in your ears. "As for 'who I am,' you should be asking yourself that - you are one of *my* incarnations. You made it here, with my clues to guide you."

"We - we are separate incarnations? How is that possible?"

The incarnation is silent for a moment, then his expression changes to contempt.

"If there is anything I have *hated* about you, it is your countless questions - your desperate fumbling for meaning and answers." The man's voice is like a hatchet, and anger flickers across his features. "The time for questions is past. Now, you will *listen* to me. I was the first to breach this Fortress, and whatever it is that awaits us here was somehow able to defeat me."

"You gave Dak'kon the Unbroken Circle of Zerthimon. Why?"

"The Unbroken Circle? That collection of lies? Yes, it was a week's work to forge such a thing - it was necessary to make it so he would cease doubting himself."

"You *made* it? But you told him -"

"Perhaps they carry some truth - I know not. I know that they were tedious writings, but the words were enough to give him faith."

"Why?"

"Your ignorance astounds me." The man looks incredulous. "Can it be that you not know what he carries in his hand? That blade he carries is shaped by his *thoughts*. Such a tool, when used properly, could slay the multiverse itself..." The man looks lost in thought, then his face sneers in disgust. "Though obviously, the gith became separated when we arrived in the Fortress, and I was unable to make use of his blade." The man frowns. "Unfortunate."
-Conversation with Practical Incarnation

The man before you resembles you, but his back is hunched, as if he is perpetually afraid of being struck. He is watching you warily, and he hisses as you approach, his hands clenching, as if wanting to strangle you. His arms are horribly gnarled and scarred, as if they had been dunked into a stream of acid - and his left arm looks like it is holding on by a thread, literally.

"Who are you?"

"KNOW that you will NOT last long in this place, THIEF!" Spittle flies from the man's mouth, and his face twists in a maddening grin. "MAZES AND REGRETS AND DEATH are all that ARE HERE..."

"What do you mean?"

"You are a THIEF!" The incarnation's hands twist, as if wrapped around your neck. "I will feel the bones of your neck SNAP beneath my fingers... take my BODY back. You wear my body like a CLOAK, and you SHAME me..."

"I am no thief. I stole *nothing* from you."

"YOU STOLE EVERYTHING! I AWOKE ON THE STREETS OF THE RING CITY, AND ALL WHO SAW ME KNEW ME!"

He takes a rasping breath. "All that you had done, all that you had harmed - they were waiting for me, blaming me, hurting me, until I couldn't TAKE the voices any more..." His fingers grasp at the air. "And had to make them SILENT."

Language of the Uyo: (Let us speak in private, just the two of us.)

As you speak the language of the Uyo, the incarnation's eyes widen, and he stares at you. After a moment of silence, he replies in the same language. (Only I know the language of the Uyo. How do you know it?)

(You are correct: you are the only one who knows the language of the Uyo. So if I know the language of the Uyo, I must be you.)

He is silent, staring at you.

(It is these *others* who are not you, for they do not know the language of the Uyo.)

He nods... slowly. (I hear you.)

(This place confuses one's perceptions - we are both you, and now we must become as one.)

He looks frightened. "I..." To your surprise, he reverts to normal speech... and all the inflections to his voice are gone. It is calm, level, and much like your own. "I... no longer wish to live like this."

(You have suffered much. You were born into a world where nothing made sense, where strangers claimed they knew you, they blamed you for things you knew nothing of, and they tried to hurt you.)

He looks at you - and you watch as the incarnation loses its mad gleam, and his eyes become more like your own. "Yes..."

The incarnation relaxes at your words, his eyes dimming as he locks gazes with you. There is the faintest of whispers, and he falls to the black stones...
-Conversation with Paranoid Incarnation

"Before you said that when we die, traces are left in the mind. That's what caused you all to emerge. Right?"

"My understanding may not be complete, but yes, that seems to be the case. And we may make ourselves felt in small ways."

"So, is it possible that the first of us - the real one of us, before all the incarnations, might still be buried somewhere in my mind."

The expression on the incarnation's face flickers for just a moment, but it is like a window, and you suddenly realize who it is you are speaking to.

"*You* were the first of us."

The incarnation's eyes take on a haunted look, and his gaze turns away from yours. "I know what you are thinking - but it is not the case. You think that knowing the mind of the first of us will somehow help you here, in this place. It will not."

"But why - I have so many questions that YOU can answer. Why did we become immortal? Why?"

"Because if we die, *truly* die..." The incarnation looks up at you, and his eyes are like steel. "Death's kingdom will *not* be paradise, not for us. If you spoke to these others that were here, know that a fraction of the evil of their lives is but a drop of water compared to the evil of mine. That life, that one life, even *without* the thousands of others, has given a seat in the Lower Planes for eternity."

"But you seem so much... calmer. More well-intentioned."

"I became that way, yes. Because for me..." His voice takes on a strange echo. "It is *regret* that may change the nature of a man." He sighs. "But it was too late. I was already damned."

"I found that changing my nature was not enough. I needed more time, and I needed more life. So I came to the greatest of the Gray Sisters and asked her for a boon - to try and help me live long enough to rectify all the damage I had done. To make me immortal."

"And Ravel did. But when she first tested your immortality and killed you, you forgot everything. *Everything*."

He looks broken. "And the Planes have been dying ever since. The crime is great, and the blame is mine."

"There are so many questions I have for you - who are you, what was your *life* like? Who-"

The incarnation shakes his head, cutting you off. "When I become no more, when I merge with you, you will have the answers you seek. It may take some time to sort them out, but they are there." He smiles ruefully. "It is difficult to communicate a life with words."

"Very well, then... we shall become as one. Are you ready?"

"One last thing... just this..." The incarnation pauses for a moment, searching your features. "Before I return to oblivion - there is something I would know."

"I can spare a little time for this - what do you wish to know?"

He studies your eyes, his expression somber. "Did you *live* your life - the brief life you have had? In the end... was it worth it?"

"This life seems to have only caused suffering for myself and others. I would see it end, and the Planes allowed peace once more."

He nods, and for a moment you think he's going to say something, but then he collapses, the life running out of him and into yours. As he falls to the black stones, you feel a crawling sensation in the back of your skull, making you shiver, and you know the incarnation is no more.
-Conversation with Good Incarnation

"Find anything Jill?"