Crow didn't really need to sleep. As soon as he realized that he can, though, he also discovered that he really liked to do so. Because when he was asleep, dreams came to him.

Tonight, it was one of his favorites. He was laying down with his head nestled comfortably on a woman's lap. Whenever he gazed up her face was blurry, but he knew, instinctively, that she was someone incredibly beautiful. She was stroking his hair gently with one of her hands, while in the other, she held up a book, reading to him out loud. It was some kind of a fairytale, or at least it felt like it. Whenever he tried too hard to focus on her words, her voice would become distant and distorted, so instead of truly listening, he was simply enjoying the feeling of her gentle caress.

An incomplete vision, put together by a broken mind. But it felt like peace. Like happiness.

It could never last, though. Sweet fantasies would always have to make way for the waking word in the end, usually announced by the cry of Tedrick's rooster. Today was no different. He heard it in his dream, quietly at first, but drowning out the woman's voice more and more with each passing moment. No matter how hard he tried to cling onto her, soon she was gone, replaced by the sight of his small room illuminated weakly by the first shy rays of the morning sun.

He picked himself up from his bed with a grumble, rubbing his still sandy eyes. Memories of the night before made their way into his mind as he stretched and he felt a sudden sting of anxiety. The gravedigger had a job for him. Now that he actually had to go out and meet with the old man, he started having second thoughts.

“The lute. Remember that you want to buy the lute, Crow.” - He suddenly heard the words being whispered into his ear and he gasped out loud, looking around. He was alone, or at least so he thought until a moment ago.

“Who's there?!” - He asked, barely able to keep his voice from trembling. He didn't have his scarf on, after all. This was bad.

“Here. Right underneath your feet.”

He glanced down. The only thing he could see was the fat rat he shared his room with. Named “Squeakers” by Tedrick's children, the animal was strangely beloved by the innkeeper and his family, much to Crow's chagrin. The vermin liked to nibble on his clothes when he slept, but he knew that any attempts on getting rid of it would result in him being forever thrown out of his quarters.

“Squeakers?! You can talk?!” - He poked the rat's side, but it just yawned and turned around, going back to sleep.

“No! You absolute fucking idiot… Here!” - He heard the voice again, and then, his own shadow did something that it definitely shouldn't be able to do. Without any movement on Crow's part, it raised its hand and waved at him.

The Undead screamed and stumbled back onto his bed, staring at the shade in disbelief.

“Crow?!” - He heard Tedrick's voice from beyond his door. - “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes! It's just… Squeakers! The bugger bit me.” - He lied quickly. The last thing he wanted was the innkeeper barging into his room.

“Maybe you shouldn't be so mean to him, then! Squeakers never bites unprovoked!”

“I'll keep that in mind, Tedrick!” - He sighed with relief when he heard the man's footsteps fade away towards the inn’s main hall.

“Phew… That was close! Why on Earth would you scream like that?!” - His shadow put its hands on its hips.

“Because apparently, I'm going completely insane. Don't get me wrong, I had a suspicion it would happen one day, but not this soon…” - Before Crow could wallow in self-pity any more, he felt a hard, cold slap across his cheek. And just for good measure, his shadow decided to put its dark hand over his mouth this time around.

“Get over yourself. You're not going insane, you're just a Shadow Mage. Will you promise me that you won't scream again? It's not in either of our best interest.”

Crow nodded slowly. What else could he do?

“Great. Finally acting smart.” - The Shadow released its hold and Crow narrowed his eyebrows at it.

“I’m not a mage.” - He said firmly.

“Then how am I moving? How did I manage to hit you in the face?”

Crow didn’t really have an answer to that.

“No, please, explain! You obviously know a lot about yourself, I’m sure you have something to say on the matter.”

“Why are you so hostile?” - The Undead asked, starting to get annoyed by the being’s antics.

“Hostile? HOSTILE?! I’m being helpful! You were almost ready to bail on the nice old man before I spoke up.”

“H-how did you… Oh gods, can you read my mind?” - His voice trembled. He definitely didn’t want this thing to be messing with his head. It was a very private space!

“Of course I can! I’m your shadow! What a silly question…”

“Hold your horses… I don’t know a thing about magic. If you want something from me, then you’ll have to explain all this.” - Crow muttered, rubbing his eyebrows. Finding out yet another way in which he was a freak didn’t really put him in the best of moods.

“Well, it’s not like I’m an expert in magic. Mostly, I just know the things that you know. Which isn’t much… But I do know how we shadows work!”

“Then elaborate on it already!” - Crow hissed, on the brink of losing his patience completely.

“Alright, alright! Basically, I’m you. Or rather, the dark, hidden parts of your psyche, that you push out of your field of perception.”

“You don’t feel particularly dark. Well, except for the appearance, of course.” - Said the Undead, with his brow raised in skepticism.

“Maybe because you wear all your gloom on your sleeve?”

“You… Have a point there. But are you trying to tell me that I am somehow repressing the fact that I want to own a lute? Because I feel very openly conflicted about it.” - Crow crossed his arms.

“No, of course not! But you can’t admit to yourself that the Gravedigger made a good impression on you.”

“What? That’s ridiculous. That man screams trouble.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

Crow rolled his eyes and then stood up from the bed, trying to tower over his shadow in the most intimidating way possible. With his finger pointed towards it, he spoke in a grim, serious tone.

“If I’m getting this right, and you’re simply my subconsciousness, then I think you should just shut up. There’s no way you have some enlightened knowledge that could make you sure meeting with the man is safe. And I have all the reasons to avoid people. Especially people who deal with death on the daily. I’m not throwing away my safety because a part of me enjoyed being treated like a human being for a moment.”

“Ah, there it is. You enjoyed it. See? I’m already helping you name your emotions. And by the way… You know you’re not scaring anyone just because you stood up, right? You’re rather short.”

“You know what? I think I will go to the gravedigger after all.” - Said Crow, starting to put on his shoes. - “If he’s a witch like I suspect, maybe he knows a way to get rid of one’s own shadow for good. And I’m not short.”

“I see this as a complete success on my part.” - The shadow giggled.

“Please… Just shut up. You were the one telling me not to scream just a moment ago. I don’t want anyone to hear you when we’re out of the room.”

“They can’t. Only you can. I’m your shadow, not theirs. But they will be able to hear if you talk back to me, of course.”

“You’re saying that you’ll be able to keep on yapping all your little remarks at me, and I’ll have no way to defend myself?!” - Crow raged.

“I didn’t think of it like that. But… Yes, absolutely. Thanks for the idea.”

Crow knew there was no winning this, not right now. So he simply put on his cape, wrapped his scarf tightly around his face and went out of his room, hoping that Arnath would have some kind of a remedy for his unwelcome companion’s chatty attitude. Once he reached the main hall of the inn, Tedrick stopped him in his tracks.

“There you are, lad! Is the bite very nasty?” - He asked and Crow blinked in confusion.

“What b… Ah! The one from Squeakers. No, it’s alright. Thank you for asking.” - He said nervously.

“Smooth.”

“Yvor told me you’re taking a day off, by the way? You could’ve at least notified me beforehand.”

“I hate this stingy old bastard! The audacity! He knows fully well that he should be paying you actual money, I’m pretty sure that he has a rat-free room where you could live and then, he acts like he owns you?!”

Crow rubbed his temples, trying to focus on the conversation instead of on his shadow’s ramblings.

“I’m sorry, Tedrick…” - He muttered. - “But I brought in a really huge deer yesterday. It’s more than enough at least until the end of the week.”

“It is, but there’s still a lot of things to do around here! The dishes don’t wash themselves, you know?” - The innkeeper tapped his foot.

Crow took a deep, calming breath. He was starting to see his shadow’s point.

“Listen… I’m not taking a day off to go and frolick in the woods. Old man Arnath approached me yesterday and said he had some kind of a job for me. I don’t think a newcomer like me should just deny the village elder’s requests.”

“Fine.” - Said Tedrick, rolling his eyes. - “But you better make up for this tomorrow.”

“Of course. Thank you for your understanding.” - Said Crow quietly and walked out of the inn, feeling like a piece of garbage.

“Do you have any self-respect at all?”

The Undead grumbled and pulled on the hood of his cape, hoping that it would isolate him from the whispers at least a little bit.

“That won’t work. I’m magic. I don’t even produce any real sounds while speaking. You could go completely deaf and you’d still be able to hear me.”

“I hate you.” - Crow muttered softly, careful not to draw the attention of passing villagers.

“I know. I’m you, and you hate yourself.”

“Is that your purpose then? Tormenting me? Driving in the point that my life is shit like you would a splinter under a fingernail?”

“You tell me.”

He scoffed and then fell silent, deciding not to entertain the shade with further conversation. Miraculously, it decided to cut it as well, and for a moment Crow walked in blissful silence again. He had to get rid of it and do it quickly - he wasn’t sure how long he was going to be able to withstand its verbal onslaught. The mere thought that from now on someone would criticize his every move filled him with dread.

He walked through Khaede with his head hung low and his gaze fixed on his feet until he reached the gates of the village cemetery. It was a nice place, he noticed with surprise. Until now, he tried his best to avoid it. He didn’t want to be associated with the small necropolis - better not to give people any ideas. But he had to admit, now that he was there, it filled him with a sense of comfort. The graves were incredibly well-kept and so was the greenery around them. He smiled a little under his scarf when he noticed the blooming forsythias. A sure sign of spring to come, even if the air was still harsh. Nature coming back to life in the place where the dead lied brought him some strange joy that was hard to properly articulate.

On the edge of it all, tucked behind two large willow trees, Arnath’s hut stood. And the gravedigger seemed to already be waiting for him. Sitting on a bench right next to his door and smoking a pipe, he stood up and waved with a warm smile on his lips as soon as he saw Crow approach.

The Undead shyly waved back and picked up his pace, reaching the little house in another few moments.

“You’re here!” - The old man greeted him cheerfully. - “I have to admit, I was partially expecting you to change your mind.”

“Me too, if I am to be completely honest.” - Said Crow, glancing away in embarrassment. The man’s bluntness was putting him slightly on edge. - “But a job is a job and a lute is a lute.”
“Very pragmatic! I like it.” - Arnath winked and opened the door to his home. - “Please, come inside. We have much to discuss.”

Crow walked in gingerly. But with each step he took into the hut he felt more at ease. The place was nicely decorated, even if it wasn’t rich. A rug made out of a sheep’s wool covered the floor and various dried herbs hung on the walls. And the air was filled with the smell of - Crow had to focus for a moment, because it was hard to really pinpoint - gods, was it freshly baked cookies? He wondered for a moment where he even knew the scent from.

“Usually, I would offer my guest a glass of cherry.” - Said the gravedigger. - “But I assume nothing changed since yesterday and you still don’t drink on the weekdays?”

Crow nodded.

“No changes there, indeed. But thank you for offering. You’re very hospitable.”

“Ha! I’m barely decent. It’s the world that’s gone to shit if you think that’s hospitable. Back when my mom was still alive, she wouldn’t let any visitors out of here until their bellies were completely full and their speech was slurred from all the alcohol they drank. I try to emulate her as much as I can, but I’m not that great of a cook.”

Crow smiled faintly. That sounded so nice… Arnath’s mother must’ve been a wonderful woman.

“Don’t sell yourself short. It smells good in here.”

“Why, thank you!” - The gravedigger laughed. - “But cooking and baking are very different things. One is an art and the other is a science, you know?”

“If you say so…” - Crow muttered. - “I’m not an expert on either.”

“I figured. Actually, I don’t think you’re even an expert on eating.”

Crow felt a shiver of dread run up his spine.

“W-well… I am rather skinny, that’s true.” - He muttered, hoping that it was indeed just a playful jab at his scrawny physique. But his hand traveled to his dagger’s handle almost on its own.

Arnath looked him dead in the eye with a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“Cut the crap, my friend. I know fully well what you are.”