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.
---
The NEXT DAY
The morning sun had barely crept over the village when the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from the path outside.
Layron sat at the small wooden table, his leg bouncing anxiously as he stared at the half-eaten loaf of bread before him. His appetite had long since vanished. Falkren, still perched on the windowsill, watched him with an almost irritating sense of calm.
[[Any minute now.]]
"Yeah, I know." Layron's voice was low, his eyes flicking toward the door.
The thought of Anya stepping inside, cheerful and unsuspecting, twisted his gut. She had no idea what awaited her. No idea that the man she called Gramps wouldn't be the one to greet her today.
Instead, it would be Falkren — wearing a face that wasn't his.
Layron clenched his jaw. "You sure about this?"
[[Absolutely.]] Falkren's voice hummed without an ounce of doubt. [[I'll handle it. She won't suspect a thing.]]
"But you said it yourself," Layron argued. "Phantom Shift isn't perfect. What if she notices something's off? What if—"
Falkren's eye gleamed. [[Then I adapt. But trust me, Layron — belief is powerful. She won't question what she doesn't want to see.]]
Layron hated how convincing that sounded.
A knock.
It was sharp, but light. Familiar.
"Layron! I'm back!"
Anya.
The warmth in her voice nearly shattered him. He exchanged one final glance with Falkren, who wasted no time. With a single pulse of golden light, the mechanical bird's frame twisted and folded. Phantom Shift, Steel wings contracted, gears ground together, and that same mist from the day before surged around him like a cloud of smoke.
By the time the mist cleared —
Gramps stood there.
White hair swept back, the faintest streaks of silver running through it. His frame, tall and broad, carried the subtle weight of age and experience. The long coat, with its familiar tattered edges, draped over his shoulders. Every wrinkle — perfect.
But it wasn't just the appearance.
The way he stood. The slight roll of his shoulders. The familiar presence that filled the room. It was all there.
Layron swallowed hard. Even knowing it was Falkren, the resemblance was enough to make him hesitate.
Another knock. More impatient this time.
"Layron! Come on, open up!"
"Coming!" Layron called out, forcing his legs to move.
He reached the door, his heart pounding beneath his ribs. One final breath — and he pulled it open.
There she was.
Anya's dark hair was tied loosely, strands falling over her flushed face. Her brown eyes gleamed with excitement, though exhaustion lingered beneath them. She wore her academy uniform, a simple yet elegant set of navy and gold, though it was now stained with dust and dirt from the excursion.
"You're awake!" she grinned. "That's a first."
Layron blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, well. Thought I'd surprise you."
"Consider me shocked." She laughed, stepping forward. Then her eyes swept past him, into the room.
The moment she saw Gramps, her face lit up.
"Gramps!"
Falkren, as Gramps, opened his arms wide. "Welcome back, Anya." His voice was flawless. The warmth, the slight rasp — everything.
Anya practically launched herself forward, wrapping her arms tightly around him. Layron tensed, watching every subtle movement. If Falkren slipped even once — a heartbeat out of rhythm, a shift in posture — she would feel it.
But nothing faltered.
The illusion held.
"I missed you!" Anya mumbled into his coat, her voice muffled. "That trip was exhausting. You wouldn't believe how many robo-monsters we had to fend off just to get through the canyon. The instructors barely helped!"
Gramps chuckled, patting her head. "And yet you're still standing. Not bad, Anya."
Anya pulled back, her grin wide. "Layron, you should've seen it! I even managed to land a hit on a Duskrend!"
"A Duskrend?" Layron feigned surprise. "Those things are no joke."
"Tell me about it!" She gestured animatedly. "It came right at us, but I managed to counter with a proper formation this time. The others panicked, but I didn't hesitate."
Gramps nodded approvingly. "Good. That's what I like to hear, Anya."
Layron forced a grin. It was surreal. Every word, every gesture — Falkren mirrored Gramps perfectly. There was no awkwardness. No hesitation.
But that didn't stop the weight from pressing down on Layron's chest.
"Come on," Anya chirped, grabbing Layron's arm. "I want to tell you both everything!"
Gramps chuckled. "You've got all day to brag, Anya. Go easy on Layron."
"Not a chance!"
Layron's stomach churned. She was so happy. So unaware. And all he could do was play along.
But as Anya launched into another story, Layron couldn't shake the gnawing fear.
This was just the beginning.
And today, they would leave the village.
And the longer this deception lasted, the greater the risk.
And if she ever found out the truth — if that fragile belief shattered —
There would be no putting it back together.
---
TO BE CONTINUED...
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