Isaac jolted awake.
His neck throbbed. The back of his head was damp. Java was pawing softly at his chest, whining.
The candle beside the bed had gone out.
Outside, the wind was still—
but the leaves kept swaying, like no one had told them.
He sat up slowly. The dream clung to him, thick and formless, slipping through his fingers the second he reached for it.
He looked at the ring.
Still gone.
Still safe with her.
There was a knock—three sharp, uneven taps at the door.
Isaac rubbed his face and stood, feet unsteady on the cold floorboards. Java followed close behind as he opened the door.
Isabelle stood there, cheeks flushed, eyes too bright for how early it was. She had a box of metal scraps and old worn out toys at her side.
"We got one more delivery," she said, not waiting for him to speak. "Jack's orders."
She extends the box towards Isaac and he accepts the package.
Java stayed behind this time. They stepped into the morning together.
Isabelle twirled in the breeze, light on her feet, her hair catching the sun. Isaac just walked, head down, trying to make sense of what he'd seen—what he'd dreamed. Every part of it felt too close. Too sharp.
"You alright?" Isabelle asked, skipping beside him.
"Yeah. I'm fine. Just—"
He hesitated.
"I'm fine."
She gave him a look but let it go.
"Y'know," she started, voice lilting, "there's this thing I've been meaning to ask for a while now…"
Isaac nodded vaguely. "Let's grab Ian first. His house is right here."
"Sure, but… I think I'd rather ask with just the two of us."
"Mhm."
But he wasn't listening.
Cairn's voice echoed faintly in the back of his skull:
Don't run. Not from this. If you back away too fast, you'll fall out of metaphor.
And you do not want to see what's under that.
Isaac blinked.
"…What does that even mean?"
"So, Isaac," Isabelle said again, now clearly nervous, "what do you think? Will you go with me?"
"Yeah, sure," he said without thinking.
"Wait—really?!" She beamed.
"Yeah. Why not."
He kept walking.
"Anyway, let's get Ian and deliver this thing. I just wanna be done with it."
Isaac knocks on Ians door then bangs on it. He walks around and taps on the covered windows.
"IAAAN, COME OUT HERE"
"IIIAANN" Isaac shouts but no answer.
"The hell is this guy doing"
Isabelle interjects " Maybe he's not feeling well?"
"Ian has never gotten sick in his life." Isaac looks up and down the house " Hmm," he scratches his head and lets it go. "Well,l if he wakes up I'm sure Jack will tell him where to meet us"
When they finally got to the house, it was a disaster.
Broken toys, wooden boards, and crumpled papers with crude drawings were scattered across the lawn like offerings to some unknowable force. A tricycle was embedded in a bush. A sock dangled from a tree branch. One of the trees had teeth marks in it.
Isaac and Isabelle looked at each other and shrugged.
They approached the front door slowly. Isabelle knocked.
Then knocked again.
And again.
Then one more time for good measure.
"…Not this shit again," Isaac muttered. "Are you telling me no one in this entire village is awake but us right now?"
Before Isabelle could answer, a wet paper ball slapped directly onto Isaac's face with a thick splat. It clung there a beat too long before falling to the ground.
"What the hell…" Isaac peeled it off and looked up.
Perched on the roof like some woodland cryptid was a child—no older than eight—with wide eyes and a twisted grin. In his tiny hands, he held a rock easily three times the size of his own head.
"Hey. Watch it. Watch it—WATCH—"
The rock dropped with full cartoon velocity. Isaac barely had time to toss the delivery box and dive out of the way.
"HEY! WATCH IT, YOU FREAK!"
Isabelle doubled over laughing—until a straw doll hit her square in the chest.
"HEY! WHAT'S THE BIG IDEA!?"
A second doll smacked her in the forehead.
Isaac looked back up just in time to see the lone child duplicate.
"Oh god, they're multiplying." Isaac staggered backwards in sheer fear.
Two identical twins now stood at the roof's edge. Without hesitation, they front-flipped off like feral gymnasts, landing in perfect sync on the grass with tiny grunts.
Each grabbed a fallen branch.
They locked eyes with Isaac and Isabelle.
And charged.
ISAAC!
Isaac grabs Isabelle's hand and makes a run for it, jumping over scraps of metal and empty boxes. They take a look back and the twins are on their heels, Isabelle is barely outrunning them until.
She trips.
"ISAAC!"
Isaac grabbed Isabelle's hand and bolted. They tore across the yard, leaping over rusted scraps of metal, broken chairs, and empty boxes.
He risked a glance back—the twins were right behind them, shrieking like wild animals. Isabelle was just barely staying ahead until—
She tripped.
"ISAAAC!!"
He kept running.
He didn't even notice he'd made it all the way to the edge of the property—until he slammed into the tall wooden fence. It wrapped around the entire yard like a fortress. Four feet of absolute defeat.
He pressed his back to it and slid down, collapsing into a squat with his face in his hands.
"…When did they even build this thing?"
He looked up again—just in time to see Isabelle getting absolutely pummeled. The twins were relentless. Their branches had been stripped of every leaf in the flurry of attacks. Isabelle curled up on the grass as the two feral kids wailed on her like they were trained in some ancient woodland martial art.
Isaac's breath caught. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
If only Ian were here.
THUMP.
THUMP.
THUMP.
Heavy footsteps. Just beyond the wall.
Then—silence.
Suddenly, Ian vaulted the fence, flying over Isaac in one glorious arc, landing in a shoulder roll and sprinting forward like he was in a war movie.
"ISABELLEEE I'M COMIIIING!!"
He slammed into the twins, tackling both of them to the ground with a wild yell, thrashing around like he was wrestling two raccoons.
"QUICK! GET THE BOX AND DELIVER IT, ISAAC—GO!"
Isaac jumped to his feet and ran to Isabelle, pulling her up from the ground.
"Come on," he muttered. "We're finishing this."
Together, they scrambled up the porch. Isaac grabbed the package—miraculously still intact—and knocked furiously on the door.
No answer.
He kicked at the frame. Isabelle banged her fist against it.
"Should we just throw it through the window?" she asked, panting.
"We should absolutely throw it through the window."
"Alright—on three!"
They both gripped the box like it was a battering ram, swinging it back and forth to build momentum.
"Alright—on three!"
They both gripped the box like it was a battering ram, swinging it back and forth to build momentum.
"ONE!"
"TWO!"
"THREE!"
With a heroic yell, they hurled it forward—smashing straight through the front window in a glorious burst of splintered wood and shattered glass.
It echoed like a war crime.
Then, the door creaked open.
Standing in the frame were two more twins—girls this time. One with deep violet hair, the other with jet black strands hanging like a curtain. They blinked slowly, looking first at the hole in the window… then at the two idiots on the porch.
"Heh—" Isaac offered weakly, still frozen in his throwing stance.
Before he could say more, Isabelle lunged in front of him.
"IT WAS ALL MY IDEA! I'M SORRY!" she blurted. "HE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT—I SWEAR, IT WAS ME!"
The two girls looked at each other again. Silent. Blank-faced.
Then they gently pushed Isabelle aside, without a word.
Both turned to Isaac.
And pointed.
Without speaking, they motioned him to come inside.
Isaac was now gone and Isabelle was along on the porch.
"ALRIGHT, THAT'S ENOUGH."
Isabelle's voice cracked through the chaos like a whip.
The twins froze mid-swing, sticks still raised. One of them had Ian in a headlock; the other was biting his sleeve.
"PUT THE WEAPONS DOWN OR I SWEAR I'LL— I'LL—JUST PUT THEM DOWN!"
The sticks clattered to the ground.
One twin pointed. "You're mean, lady."
"Yeah," said the other. "You're mean, lady."
"No one's mean to Slug."
"Yeah, no one is."
Isabelle blinked. "Which one of you is Slug?"
"Me."
"Me."
"You're both named Slug?"
"Yes."
"What."
"Yes."
She squinted like she was trying to make sense of a dream.
"Okay. Slug—whichever one of you that is—you cannot keep doing this to every delivery person who shows up."
"Who're you saying that to?"
"Yeah, who?"
"Slug."
"Who?"
"You literally just said that was your name."
"Right."
"Slug, you could really hurt someone."
"Yeah, someone could get hurt. Slug, you were too rough."
"Yeah, you were too rough."
"I was too rough? You hit him in the eye!"
Ian sat up, face slightly dirtied but grinning. "Guys, it's fine. It was… kinda fun, actually."
"No, Slug was too violent and now Big Sis Isabelle is mad at us."
"Big Sis Isabelle," Isabelle repeated under her breath, weirdly touched.
"Yeah. And now she's mad at you, Slug."
Slug pushed Slug.
Slug pushed back.
They both collapsed into another cartoon brawl on the grass.
Ian dusted himself off. "Well. Great job, Isabelle. Crisis averted."
"Thanks, I guess…"
Isaac wandered through dangling bead curtains, arms full.
Your shadow walks ahead of you.
That's rare.
"Um," Isaac called out, "what do you need help with?"
"Oh look at him,"
"So eager to be useful."
"Could you place that box on the counter? It's so heavy."
"Um, sure."
"He's so strong, isn't he?"
Isaac scratched the back of his head.
"Anything else?"
"Hold this teapot."
They handed him an ornate, chipped porcelain teapot. He blinked.
"…Do you want your fortune read?"
"My what?"
"Your fortune read."
"Why are you both talking at the same time? It's creepy."
"In a good way?"
"No. Never in a good way. What kind of question is that?"
They glanced down at their feet and stopped speaking in unison.
"Our names are Jacky—"
"—and Jackie."
"Lord," Isaac muttered. "Same name?"
"No, they're spelled differently."
He rubbed his forehead. "Right."
"Do you want your fortune told, Isaac?"
"…Sure."
"Good. Walk around with that teapot, and we'll tell you everything you need to know."
He wandered the living room, teapot in hand, feeling more ridiculous with every step.
"Look how he holds it," Jacky whispered.
"Like he's about to stab someone. Like it's a sacred dagger."
Isaac frowned. "I'm just holding it."
"PUT IT DOWN, ISAAC. YOU'RE SCARING US."
He flinched. "Didn't I tell you to stop talking in unison?"
"Mmm. He's so commanding, Jackie."
"I know, Jacky."
They handed him a rubber ball.
He held it blankly.
"Drop it."
He dropped it.
It bounced three times.
"…Three bounces, Jacky."
"Yes. Three bounces, Jackie."
"One last test."
They stared directly at him.
"Who are you, Isaac?"
"We see two of you. Always have. One stitched together in stories and symbols. The other stitched out of silence."
Isaac's head throbbed.
Careful, Isaac.
Back away too fast and you'll fall out of metaphor.
And you do not want to see what's under that.
Cairn's voice echoed again.
Jackie stepped forward. "Don't tell anyone what you saw last night."
Jacky followed. "We already know."
They each took a hand—one on his palm, one on his shoulder—and gently guided him toward the door.
"Visit us again, Isaac," they said together.
"We have more to learn from you."
The wild twins darted past him and disappeared into the house.
A shiver ran up Isaac's spine.
Isabelle rushed to him, eyes wide, gripping his hands.
"WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU? DID THEY HURT YOU? DID THEY MAKE YOU DO ANYTHING WEIRD?"
She leaned in, voice lowering to a growl.
"…Did they touch you, Isaac? Did they touch you?"
Ian sidled up and slapped a hand on Isaac's back. "I dunno, man… I'd let 'em tou—"
WHACK.
Isabelle punched him in the arm.
"OW! It was a joke!"
WHACK.
"OWWWW."
Ian retreated, pouting.
He walked up to the window, breathed on the glass, and drew a little heart in the fog.
Inside, the girls made the most disgusted face imaginable.
Then they closed the curtains.
Ian slumped back to the group.
"They made me carry stuff," Isaac said quietly.
"They what?" Ian blinked.
"They handed me a teapot. And a rubber ball."
"They said they'd read my fortune if I did. But now that I think about it… they never did."
"That's all they did?" Isabelle asked, narrowing her eyes.
"…Yeah."
She bumped her shoulder into him, then skipped ahead.
"Well. Good."