"I was the vampire traitor — Kurda Smahlt!"

As he said the words, the world around them froze.

A bright flash of light appeared above them — for only a moment, it was so bright they couldn't see, but then it stabilized into a steady glow, casting its rays to illuminate this wasteland in shades of rose and violet that almost made it beautiful.

Scared, shivering, confused, the man in the net — himself, his past, he remembered— was lifted into the sky, towards the light. As he watched, he realized that he himself — this little body — was rising as well.

He looked down to where Darren stood on the ground, smaller, further away every second, looking between the two of them — the one in two bodies — as they rose ーand then suddenly, they reached it, that light in the sky.

It reminded him of something, and then suddenly, he realized — the portal that had brought them here. Why — where did it —

and Darren

And then he stopped moving. He floated there, face to face with himself, his past, his true —

The light brightened again — he thought he saw a strange tendril of shadow amongst its rays — then the light covered everything.

Then, darkness.

Dark but… calm.

No dragons, no fire. It was warm, but not hot. Damp. Like it was going to rain.

It felt clear. Felt… felt in a strange way, in his face, above his mouth…

He knew the grass before he saw it, almost as if he could —

Memories. Was he remembering what it was like to smell, to taste…?

Try to stand, he told himself.

He reached out, but his arm felt… long… stretched…

It was such a clear night.

Was he in a forest? Yes… it was a forest. And he heard a voice.

Darren's voice.

"Harkat! Harkat, where—"

Calling. For him.

"I'm h—" he tried to call back, but his voice felt — odd. Wet. Loose.

Free.

It felt strange, like if he spoke, it would all just— what? Fall out? What would fall out?

Try to stand.

Why can't I stand? Where are my—

His legs. Long. Whole.

His arms— it hadn't been an illusion, or a trick of his waking mind.

And he remembered.

He remembered.

He remembered this body, his life… he remembered how to move.

"I'm here!" He called. "Darren, I'm—" he could hear him, just a bit away, coming closer.

"Harkat? Harkat!"

Darren came close enough to see, and stopped. Stared.

"Darren… Darren, it's me… Harkat."

Darren didn't move, didn't say anything. Slowly, he took a step forward.

"Harkat?" He asked. "But… how?"

"I don't know," he responded. "But Darren — Darren. I remember now… everything…"

He tried to stand, and he stood.

And for a moment, they simply looked at each other.

Darren… I was… you saw me… you… does it hurt you to see me like this?

With the eyes of a vampire, he could see the other vampire's face much more clearly than before. He watched his face, tried to decipher Darren's feelings, his reaction to seeing… me, he thought. Darren… this is who I really…

"I see you have returned safely."

They turned at the sound of the third voice, deep, a sound made of shadow. Hibernius.

"I had been expecting you for about a week," he said, stepping into view. "I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't make it."

Calmly, he took off his overcoat and handed it to the naked blond vampire.

"Th-thank you," the latter responded, unsure of what else to say.

"I have made a fire. Shall we discuss there?"

The two vampires nodded and silently followed.

——————-

Food. Hot… savory. He closed his eyes.

"Was it too hot?" Hibernius' voice startled him out of his thoughts.

"What? Oh, no, it's just… I can taste food again."

He smiled in spite of himself, then the thought hit him — what must Darren think, to see him smile like that?

He looked to his friend, but Darren smiled too — a sad smile, but…

"I… I don't understand," Darren started, after a moment. "You're… you're…"

"I'm Kurda," he said. "I'm still Harkat. I'm… I mean, I was Kurda before. Now, I… " He saw Darren's confused expression, and shook his head. "There's a lot I don't understand, either, but… don't worry. I'm still Harkat. Really. I remember — I mean. All the years we spent together. These past few years. My life as Kurda was… that was all a long time ago."

It was true… but would it be enough?

"But how?" Darren addressed his questions to Hibernius. "Harkat was around long before Kurda died."

"Desmond did not explain it to you?" Hibernius asked.

"Mr. Tiny? No, we didn't see him," Darren responded. "Should we have?"

"Curious," Hibernius responded. He then explained to the two vampires, how Desmond Tiny travelled into the future to collect the souls of the dead, to bring back as his Little People. How some of the Little People are given a mission to complete. "Do you remember what yours was, Harkat?"

"To protect Darren," he answered. He didn't look at the Prince, couldn't meet his eyes. "That was how I could atone for what I'd done."

"And you did…" Darren's voice was full of emotion. Shock… sadness? Awe…? "You did protect me. You saved my life so many times."

"Even when it led to my own downfall," he agreed. He looked up. "But I don't have any regrets. I was bound to die then no matter what happened."

"But why me?" Darren asked.

"Desmond has his reasons…" Hibernius said. "Though I do not always understand them, I am sure that he does, as I am sure that he has his reasons for restoring your body."

"He did this?"

"He must have," Hibernius responded. "I have never seen it happen before. In all other cases when a Little Person has regained their memories, they stayed in the same body for the rest of their lives. You are the first I have seen restored as such."

"The first…" the blond vampire whispered.

"In any case, it is late, almost dawn. I am glad that I caught you now — your restored body is likely as vulnerable to the sun as any vampire's. A trailer is ready for the both of you, and I'm sure our wardrobe mistress won't mind helping to find some clothes for you."

He smiled, then froze. "Truska… she'd recognize me…"

"Truska knew you before?" Darren asked. He nodded… and if not her, then others in the Cirque definitely would. Cormac Limbs. Sive and Seersa.

"We will explain," Hibernius said. "You know that all of our members are good at keeping secrets."

He looked down at the ground. This would be the first of many such encounters. How could he explain… how could he explain this to others when he couldn't even explain it to himself?

The memories… there were so many, and he was still processing them. Connecting, putting the pieces together.

Vancha… why didn't you tell me—

"Harkat…"

He looked up. Darren had spoken so quietly, almost whispered.

"Yes?"

"Can I… Should I still call you Harkat? Or Kurda, or—"

"No, please," he answered. "Harkat. I'm still Harkat, the same as always." He smiled. It came naturally to him, it always had, even though it had looked so strange in that body. "Kurda is dead," he added. "It wouldn't be…" what? Right? Natural? Possible? He shook his head. "I'm a new person now."

"Alright… Harkat," Darren said. His smile… relieved, to be back of course, but… sad? Scared? "This feels so weird, but it… it must be even stranger for you, I mean…"

"It is…" It's… how could I ever explain it?

————————-

The silence in the 24th floor room was broken as the red-haired vampire burst from her trance, coughing. The three observers ran to her side.

"Fiona!"

"Blood. Blood—" she panted.

Without missing a beat, Patricia took a knife out of her belt pocket and made a cut into her arm, holding it to Fiona's mouth. Luca held her shoulders as she drank. She smiled up at Patricia when she had had enough, and ran her tongue over the wound again to close it.

Luca passed Fiona a bottle of water. After she'd taken what she needed from it, he waited another few seconds before asking. "So…"

Fiona took a few more deep breaths, then responded. "It worked." She said. Then, the realization seemed to dawn over her, and she smiled. "It worked!"

"Really?" Patricia asked, looking around the room. "Well… your gods sure are subtle. When I summon mine, they at least make a little noise. Flashing lights and things, you know."

"Yeah," Luca agreed. "For all those months of preparation, I was expecting to see something, but… Not even one little tentacle?"

Fiona shook her head. "No, he came through to this world, just not here. Not… now. That is, the effect is now, on our present — where the two of them are anchored. But he made it happen in the future, which is where — when — they were. Where the spirit— the body… it's hard to explain."

"But whatever he did," Patricia asked, "it'll be enough to end the Night War?"

The Night War — that's what they were calling it here. Those fighting in it called it the War of the Scars — presumptuous of them, since they weren't the only ones with scars. Nor were they the only Creatures of the Night— but that was exactly the problem. Their war had made the nights dangerous for all the world's other star-dwellers, and, as of recently, for humans as well.

Calling a god from another world was dangerous, difficult, nearly impossible, for all but those who had trained longer than the natural lifespan of a human — luckily, Fiona had. And luckily, the god she'd devoted herself to was familiar with the ins and outs of their Meddler's forms of necromancy. There were countless forms of magic unheard of in this world that were easy for Hastur, and all that was required to make them happen was for someone on this side to open a door for him.

The fact that Fiona had once been close friends with the resurrected spirit in question also helped quite a bit, especially when it came to making Hastur willing to help him safely.

Kurda…. She smiled. Our brilliant Ultramarine. He's back… he's alive.

She looked to Luca and Patricia, a somewhat mischievous grin on her sweet lips. "What's Delphine going to do when he hears about this?"