Layron stared at the ceiling, the echoes of his conversation with Shion still gnawing at him. Even with the lingering soreness in his body, his mind refused to settle. Every piece of information — from Zorthaal's silence to the looming presence of tomorrow — circled like vultures.
But one thought refused to fade.
Phantom Shift
He could already picture it. Her stepping into the room, her smile faltering the moment her eyes scanned the empty space where Gramps should have been. She wouldn't say anything at first, but Layron knew that look. The worry. The questions that would pile up with every second of his silence.
And Falkren. That damn bird.
"Hey," Layron muttered, breaking the silence. "I need to ask you something."
Falkren, perched lazily on the windowsill, barely shifted. The mechanical hum of his body was faint, his golden eye flickering dimly against the dusky sky.
[[Again? Didn't we just go through your grand list of existential crises?]]
Layron scowled. "This isn't about me."
[[Then I'm even less interested.]]
"Shut up and listen." Layron pushed himself upright, though the ache in his ribs protested. Every motion reminded him of the damage he had barely recovered from. "Anya's coming tomorrow. She'll be with us. Which means she's expecting to see Gramps."
Falkren's eye gleamed. [[And?]]
"And you'll have to stay shifted the entire time, right?" Layron's brows furrowed. "Is there even a limit to how long you can pull that off?"
Falkren let out a metallic hum. [[A smart question. Finally. Though I'd argue it took you embarrassingly long to think of it.]]
Layron's jaw clenched. "Just answer it."
The mechanical bird tilted his head, amusement flickering in his artificial gaze. [[Phantom Shift isn't like your flashy magic or brute strength. It's… intricate. Precise. A complete rewriting of my physical form.]]
He clicked his beak lightly. [[But it's not limitless.]]
Layron's expression tightened. "So there is a limit."
[[Of course.]] Falkren's tone was annoyingly calm. [[Every transformation takes energy. The longer I stay shifted, the more it drains me. But it's not just about time — it's about how well I maintain it. The act of holding a form is one thing. Fooling the world? That's where it gets complicated.]]
Layron frowned. "What do you mean by 'fooling the world'?"
[[You think Phantom Shift is just an illusion?]] Falkren's eye gleamed. [[It's not. The form I take — it's real. The weight, the warmth, even the heartbeat. When I'm Tensuke, I'm not just pretending. I am him. To anyone who touches, hears, or even smells me, there will be no difference.]]
Layron's stomach twisted. The thought of Falkren mimicking Gramps so perfectly, down to something as subtle as a heartbeat, sent a chill down his spine.
"But that takes a toll," Layron guessed.
[[A constant one.]] Falkren nodded. [[The longer I sustain it, the harder it is to maintain the illusion without cracks. A missed heartbeat. A delayed breath. Tiny mistakes that humans wouldn't notice — but someone sharp enough might.]]
Layron's mind flashed back to the Principal. Even with how convincing Falkren had been, there was a lingering unease. A tension that had never quite left the man's gaze.
"So how long can you keep it up?" Layron pressed.
[[A day. Maybe two if I push it. After that?]] Falkren ruffled his feathers. [[Let's just say you don't want to see what happens when I overstay my welcome.]]
Layron's jaw tightened. "And Anya? She'll be with us the whole time. You're going to have to keep it together."
[[Oh, I will.]] Falkren's voice lowered, though the amusement never left. [[But maybe you should worry less about me and more about keeping your story straight. Anya's not stupid. If something feels even a little off, she'll notice.]]
Layron exhaled sharply. "Yeah. I know."
Falkren leaned forward slightly, his glowing eye narrowing. [[And one more thing. Unlike the Principal, Anya's not looking for a reason to doubt. She trusts Tensuke. She trusts Gramps. That's what makes Phantom Shift work. It's not just about the form — it's about belief.]]
Layron swallowed hard. "You're saying as long as she believes it's him, the illusion holds?"
[[Exactly.]] Falkren's voice was dangerously calm. [[But belief is fragile. One crack, and the whole thing falls apart.]]
The weight of those words sank into Layron's chest. He thought of Anya's laugh. The way she'd always rush to Gramps after training, dragging him into stories about her day. How she'd fuss over the tiniest cuts and bruises, scolding him like she wasn't the younger one.
She'd see him. She'd talk to him. And if something didn't feel right — if that belief wavered even once — everything would come crashing down.
"You're really fine with this?" Layron's voice lowered. "Pretending to be him? Lying to her like that?"
Falkren tilted his head. [[You think I enjoy this?]]
Layron didn't answer.
[[Tensuke made his choice.]] Falkren's voice was devoid of its usual sarcasm. [[And for now, this is the only way to keep things together. The longer we can hold this, the safer she'll be.]]
Layron's hands clenched. "And after?"
Falkren's eye gleamed faintly. [[We'll see.]]
The words twisted something inside Layron, but he forced the feeling down. There was no point in arguing. Not now.
He exhaled sharply. "Fine. Just... don't screw it up."
Falkren's wing flicked. [[Wouldn't dream of it.]]
The tension lingered. But for now, Layron let it settle. Tomorrow would bring its own chaos. For now, he could only brace for what lay ahead.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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