Chapter 10: Gemini, shut it.

Cinabar was the kind of town that looked like it had been squashed into a valley by two drunk gods playing dice with mountains. Tiny, crooked houses with black pointed roofs clung together as if afraid the cliffs might eat them alive. Despite its size, the place buzzed with life—enough inns, smithies, and dusty little shops to keep adventurers and merchants lingering just long enough to get fleeced.

And, as luck would have it, we walked right into a celebration. Of course we did. The village square was crammed with people swaying around fiddlers and drummers, while dancers spun in circles like they had nothing better to do with their miserable little lives. Colorful ribbons hung from beams, the smell of roasted meat filled the air, and every villager looked like they’d decided this was the one night they wouldn’t be miserable farmers or tired mule-drivers.

“Let’s just keep moving,” Serine muttered beside me, stiff as a board. Her eyes flicked to the music, then away, like she was scared to admit she cared. “We don’t have time to waste on… festivals.”

I smirked. “Really? Because I just watched your eyes light up like a kid staring at her first sweetcake. Don’t tell me you’re not curious. What, never seen people dancing in the mud before?”

She crossed her arms. “It’s not important.”

“Oh, Serine, please. You look like you’re about to snap your neck trying to peek at everything while pretending you’re not interested. Come on. One dance, one song, one bite of whatever greasy nonsense they’re selling, and then we go. Deal?”

Her mouth twisted, torn between that stubborn act of hers and the fact that she was seventeen and dying to dive headfirst into the chaos. I knew that look. I’d worn it myself once upon a time—back when I was young, stupid, and still believed life was something you could waste.

Finally, she sighed, almost pouting. “...Fine. Just for a little while.”

I grinned. “There’s the spirit. Let’s corrupt you properly.”

Truth was, watching her fidget and glance around like a child in a toy shop made something ache inside me. She was still just a girl. Seventeen—the same age I’d been when I stepped into the palace, thinking I was clever, thinking I could cheat fate. And now here I was: twenty-three years old in this life, plus however many decades I’d dragged around in the last one. Thirty-something back then? Twenty-something now? Gods, what was I—fifty? Nearly half a century jammed into one cracked soul. The thought made my stomach flip.

“Not so unusual, Mistress, to live twice.”

The cadaverous voice rattled through my skull before I even realized it wasn’t my thought. My spine went rigid. It was him—Arkanthos. Whispering inside my head from the depths of my pack.

“You bony sack of undead garbage! What did I say about opening your damn mouth in public? First mangy mutt I see, I’m tossing you to him, let him bury you with his fleas!” I snapped internally, so hard I almost bit my own tongue.

“Oh, worry not, Mistress,” his tone was maddeningly calm, almost smug. “I am speaking only to your mind. I would never defy your orders aloud. But—you see—you shared a piece of your soul with us when you awakened us. We know your thoughts as you know them. We are extensions of you, reflections of your past and your present. We do not judge. We are simply… you.”

My skin crawled so badly I wanted to peel it off.

“Great. Perfect. That’s exactly what I needed. A chorus of skeletons rummaging through my head like it’s a library no one asked for,” I groaned silently. Then, louder in my mind: “Fine, baldy. But listen carefully: Serine doesn’t hear anything. Not a whisper, not a hint, not a single dirty secret from me unless I spit it out myself. You breathe one word of what I really think, and I swear I’ll glue your jaw shut and use you as a soup bowl. Got it?”

“Of course, Mistress,” he replied, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Your will is ours. Always.”

I nearly gagged.

The town square was chaos, the cheerful kind. Lanterns dangled from ropes overhead, casting everything in warm orange light. Music—half fiddles, half banging on whatever drums they’d found in the barn—echoed across the valley. Villagers stomped their boots in rhythm while their kids shrieked, chasing each other with sticky fingers covered in honey.

Serine, predictably, froze like a deer caught in torchlight. Her eyes darted everywhere, wide and bright. I could almost hear the little gears in her head creaking: What do I do? Do I walk? Smile? Pretend I’m not about to explode from excitement?

I nudged her shoulder. “Go on. Nobody’s going to bite you—well, except maybe the pie vendors. They look vicious.”

She blushed. “I don’t want to look… foolish.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” I chuckled. “This is a festival in the middle of a muddy valley. Everyone here looks foolish. You’ll blend right in.”

That did it—she cracked the tiniest smile, and I swear it was like watching a baby bird take its first step. Then, like an actual child, she darted toward a stall where a man was spinning candied nuts.

I sighed, trailing behind her. So this was my life now: playing nursemaid to a teenager. If someone had told me a decade ago that I’d be babysitting at fifty I’d have laughed in their face and gone back to plotting my next escape. Yet here I was.

“Oh, but Mistress,” Arkanthos purred in my mind, “you’re doing marvelously. Look at you. Taking care of someone other than yourself. Who would’ve thought?”

Shut up, I snapped internally. Don’t you have bones to rattle somewhere else?

“No bones, just a skull, remember?” His voice dripped sarcasm. “And from in here, I get the best seat. Watching you be responsible. Never thought I’d live—well, un-live—long enough to see the day.”

I gritted my teeth. “You’re just me with extra calcium Bony, I get it. You are having fun with this whole situation, save it. If you are sarcastic, it’s because you’re stealing it from me.”

“Oh no, Mistress. This is all natural talent. Consider me your better half.”

I nearly snorted out loud. My “better half” was a talking skull in my satchel. Wonderful. Truly living the dream.

Meanwhile, Serine had bought the candied nuts and held out a sticky paper cone to me. “Want some?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No thanks. My teeth aren’t ready to be glued together yet.”

She popped one into her mouth, crunching happily. “They’re delicious.”

“Of course they are. Everything’s delicious when you’re seventeen and haven’t been poisoned yet.”

Serine didn’t even flinch at my jab—too busy eyeing another stall where women were weaving flower crowns. I sighed. Of course.

Five minutes later, I was wearing one. Don’t ask me how.

“You look beautiful!” Serine chirped, her own crown slightly lopsided.

I groaned. “I look like a goat bride. If anyone asks, I lost a bet.”

“Oh, but you do make a radiant goat, Mistress,” Arkanthos whispered slyly. “Majestic horns, charming bleat…”

I tightened the strap of my satchel. “One more word, skull-boy, and I’m dunking you in the honey vat.”

“Mm. Sweet death. Tempting.” Said the talking skull in my mind, I could feel that he was smiling. At that point he was just messing with me, whatever, he would face the consequences later, I swore.

The evening blurred into a ridiculous parade of Serine dragging me everywhere. She pulled me to a group of dancers stomping in circles, where she shyly joined in and immediately tripped over her own feet. I caught her before she faceplanted in the mud.

“Steady, little chick,” I teased. “First you walk, then you dance.”

Her cheeks went pink, but she laughed. It was a sound I hadn’t heard often—light, unguarded. Gods help me, it made me smile too.

We tried spiced cider (too sweet), roasted chestnuts (burnt), and something the locals swore was “meat on a stick” but tasted suspiciously like shoe leather. Serine loved every bite, of course. I pretended not to gag.

At one point, she pulled me toward a fortune teller’s tent. Smoke, beads, the whole cliché. The old woman grabbed Serine’s hand and began muttering about “a great destiny.”

I leaned in and whispered, “She says that to everyone who pays her two coins. If you give her four, she’ll tell you you’re secretly royalty.”

Serine elbowed me, trying not to laugh. The old woman glared at me, but I just smirked back.

“Oh, Mistress,” Arkanthos drawled, “you ruin all the fun. Poor Serine, dreaming of prophecies, and you shatter the illusion like a cruel older sister.”

Cruel older sister? I shot back. I’m not her sister.

“Really? Then I’m not a skull in your bag.”

“Okay Arkanthos.” I said deeply in my mind. “You’re walking on thin ice here, be quiet. Now.”

“Yes, mistress. Still not walking though, even if I wanted to.”

I felt his laugh again. It bothered me, but I knew he would know too. Fuck.

How would I even laugh at someone when I couldn’t be mean to Serine and that fucking talking skull in my bag was aware of my deepest thoughts? I thought crying to myself...

By the time the music began to fade and the lanterns burned low, Serine was practically bouncing with energy, her hands full of trinkets: a ribbon, a carved whistle, half a pie she insisted on saving for later. She looked like she’d just discovered joy existed.

Me? I was exhausted. My feet ached, my head buzzed, and if one more villager tried to sell me “authentic Cinabar goat cheese,” I was going to commit a crime.

We finally stumbled into the local inn, a squat building with creaky shutters and the smell of stale ale baked into the walls. Serine collapsed onto the bed without even taking off her boots, giggling.

I sat on the other bed, pulling off my flower crown and tossing it onto the table. “Well, congratulations. You’ve officially dragged me through every form of small-town entertainment known to man. I hope you’re happy.”

She peeked at me from under the blanket, her eyes shining. “I am.”

I couldn’t help it—I smiled, tired but genuine.

In my head, Arkanthos chuckled. “Look at you. The selfish schemer, now babysitting, feeding, protecting, even smiling for someone else. Admit it, Mistress—you’re not half as cold as you pretend.”

I groaned, flopping back on the mattress. Go to hell, skull.

“Oh, I was there once Mistress... and you made me come back.”

And for once since we arrived, I laughed.