Across the field, over the river, and through the high woods, and you would reach the fort of the Musketeers. Out the back of a row of houses was a steep, forested hillside, too steep to be developed without leveling the whole thing flat.  Soon, there would be the first meeting of the Musketeers in far, far too long. 

A dark figure staggers out from between two homes. One of them was hers, once. Now there was a tacky WELCOME mat and silly seashell decorations on the postbox. The wind chime by the back door was gone. 

Were there not more flowers in this field? Ikana crossed the scraggly grass on unsteady legs. Was the grass not better tended to? Now it grew high and itchy. 

The creek was much the same. A small waterway, set deep in the ground with stone retaining walls. Climbing up and down the chain links that held rocks back was a little adventure all its own. Or was it? Now, the wall was barely taller than she was. The creek was smaller, slower. And there was garbage. It stank. Ikana angrily kicked at a plastic bag in the current. 

Up the other side and into the forested hills. Not far in, a fence. There wasn’t supposed to be a fence here. It was ugly, scratchy with rust and tangled up with garbage. It wouldn’t be a problem to go over it, but— there wasn’t SUPPOSED to be a FENCE here!

Ikana gripped the mesh and ripped it from its supports. She yanked the metal poles free from the ground and threw them aside too. She hurled it all up into the woods, except there wasn’t supposed to be broken fence lying in the woods either. 

She advanced on the pile, picking up the noisy, rattling mess and shoving it into her mouth. The weak, rusty mesh splintered in her teeth, dissolving. Soon it would all be gone. The hollow fenceposts struck low notes when she bit into and snapped them. 

Soon it would all be gone. This thing that wasn’t supposed to be here! Here, in her sanctum! 

???: You’re unraveling, aren’t you? The path you’ve chosen is flaying your psyche. And now… it has led you back to me.

Ikana: Huh?? (She angrily stands up from her twisted feast) Who are you supposed to be? 

???: Don’t you recognize me, Ikana? Change has come for me, just as my Master promised. Now where has it brought me? To see you make a mockery of his legacy.

Ikana: What are you babbling about? You don’t belong in this tiny world… (She points off into the distance behind her with a thrust of her arm) Step into nothing! 

As the Incubator points at nowhere in particular, a weight pushes onto her back — a slender body, leaning into her, its slyly smiling face and shimmering locks of white hair decidedly human as the mocking voice’s owner reveals themselves.

Naomi: I belong in this little world as much as you do, charlatan. A world that never existed. (she scoffs) How appropriate. Wherever else could we call home, hmm? (she gets up from her leaning position, circling around Ikana to face her) Do you think this place belongs to you? That behind that fence, there is a forever? The forever you crave? (her expression turns grim) Incubator. 

Ikana: (She stops moving, hollowly repeating) Incubator…?

Naomi: The Path leads away from forever. Our way is the way of change, but you made it your escape route; and when you refuse to meet the Path on its own terms, it will only lead you back to where you came from. I told you, didn’t I? This is where you’ve ended up. Look at you. A pathetic parasite, leeching off beings so much more deserving of the birthright you claim, all to perpetuate your forever. Tell me, Ikana… How does that make you any different from a Pale Warden?

Ikana: … (After a pause, she chuckles, low in her throat) Now I remember… what it was I was doing here. Listen, ‘cause I can only be “myself” for a moment. (She lays her hand over her heart) What you see here is an Incubator no longer. Understand? I gave all that up… (Ikana sways and hunches forward) Now, when I think of it, I can still feel the needle in my skin… the poison taking apart my neurons! Whoever decided that was a “humane” way to die is mad! 

Now, before I become (She spasms and speaks a jumble of the Musketeers’ names) again… I still have this me that’s here. I’ve always been here. I don’t know who you are. You and the Wardens can pretend all you want that we’re soulless beings. I was born with a soul, like anyone here… and I am going to use it. 

Naomi: The Wardens will pay for what they’ve done to us. (she lowers her voice, as much of the arrogance and indignation leaves her face) But if you have a soul, then you must feel that this is not the way. We become ourselves. We forge our way out of feelings of our own. We pave our roads with fruits of our labor, never with the flesh and blood of others. Walk alongside others, not over them.

Ikana: (She laughs to herself, low and long. She wanders over to a broken segment of fence post and picks it up) When I first got here I never thought of such things. An Incubator, through and through. Yuzu fought me, but over the years I don’t think that’s the real reason I never replaced her like I wanted… no. These days, ordinarily, I would never do such a thing… but here, I can! (She strikes the pile of rusty mesh with the fence post, making a terrible noise) 

Anisa! All this is because of her! Her, I can replace. See? Everyone can finally have the “Anisa” they deserve. One who would never commit the atrocities she did! 

Naomi: We cannot change the past. We move on. This Anisa… You can not be her better than she can. You can only be you.

Ikana: And “I” would make a much better “Anisa.” 

Naomi: (grimly) You’re proud of your soul, aren’t you? Then don’t do this. This is not what it’s for. This is not what he taught us.

Ikana: What, you’re one of the disciples of that first “Master” to be executed? He didn’t teach me. My teachers were all right here. Understand me? Until Anisa changed all that. 

Naomi: And you think you can change that? Change the past?

Ikana: Is that what you think about with your “master?” For me… no matter how it’s happened, everyone is here again. I only need to be here for it. 

Naomi: Then what’s stopping you? Go be with them.

Ikana: (She turns to leave) Yes… it’s about time. Are you planning to stay, to muck everything up?

Naomi: This is not going to end the way you think it will.

Ikana: It will. Either way, I won’t be “myself” anymore. That’s all there is to it.