Like someone sliced her right down the middle, and on the other half was a cranky old crone with matted gray hair full of burrs, a bird-pecked nose, and the kind of smile that makes dental hygienists quit.

  One eye was youthful and sparkling, green sparks dancing like fairy dust. The other? A pale, milky horror show with a full-on cataract horror bubble.

  -Who is that? - Antwan had seen a lot in his young life, but he was examining her like he’d just discovered a rare Pokémon.

  I sighed and pointed:

  

  
• Meet That’s her. A banshee. And, for my sins, also my mother.


  
• Two-faced, as you might’ve noticed, dude, but not two-faced like my darling daughter here, who’s too ashamed of her own mom to bring her little friends over for — Croaked the old side of the banshee, winking at Antwan.


  

  

  
• Truly! And she doesn’t even address us formally! — Sang the younger half, like a passive-aggressive bard.


  

  I barely held in my laugh. Antwan’s expression was somewhere between a frozen Windows screen and existential dread, so I cleared my throat and tried to refocus the circus:

  

  
• Ilania, we need your Let’s skip the freak show and get to the point. Help us out and we’ll all go our merry ways.


  
• You could’ve called me -Mom- just .. — sighed the old bat, giving Antwan a long, hungry look.


  

  

  
• She never wants to open her little heart to her dear mother, always rushing off like she’s on a tight deadline. But you, bro, you look like a sweet I bet you'd love to sit down and have a nice chat with your new friend here. Who knows, cutie, maybe you’ll end up being my new crush.


  

  She kept talking and talking, but Antwan? Antwan was gone. Her eye—that eye—was pulling him in like a black hole. His whole mind started slipping away, like someone was yanking his soul out with a candy claw machine.

  Just as he was about to check out of his body like a bad hotel, my palm slapped the back of his head. Hard.

  

  
• Ow! Ali, what is that?! — He hunched over, rubbing the sore spot, blinking like someone just turned his brain back The world snapped back into place.


  

  I checked that he was back in one piece and lazily shot my mother a warning glare:

  

  
• Try sucking out his life force again and I swear I’ll toss your soul into the actual abyss. Did you seriously think I’d just watch you drain him in front of me?


  
• Oh dearest daughter, and your delicious little companion! Please accept our most sincere apologies! — Chirped the girl-half sweetly.


  

  

  
• It’s just been sooo long since someone so tasty dropped We got a bit carried away. — She curtsied like a well-trained psycho. The hag half nodded apologetically:


  

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• I admit, I lost my head a little. It


  

  Antwan was now ping-ponging between us with that same - are you people even real? - look.

  

  
• So that’s why you didn’t want to bring me here? Your mom’s a people- snacker?


  

  Ilania said nothing. I ignored the accusation and went full business mode:

  

  
• Look, you already know why we’re You spy on me constantly. I want answers. Why are They acting more coordinated lately? Why is the breach always at one point now instead of scattered zones? What the hell kind of strigoi was that and why did he want my blood?


  
• You overrate your own importance, you pathetic worm calling the ravens to doom! Why would we waste our time tracking your frail little carcass?


  
• Snapped the youthful side with suddenly demon-core The hag half wasn’t so dramatic. She squinted slyly:


  

  

  
• Okay, Maybe I do keep tabs on your little adventures. By the way, mad respect for your tactical skills back in the trash zone. You totally... sucked.


  

  The other half giggled into her sleeve like a mean-girl anime villain. That burn hit me right in my already bruised ego. I clenched my jaw, about ready to tell Mama Witch exactly where she could stick her sass, but she raised a hand:

  

  
• Here’s the deal: you and your little buddy will walk with me to work. During the stroll, I’ll give you whatever answers I can. And don’t even start whining about not having time. You know time doesn’t tick the same way here. So park your planner and come on.


  
• Truth shall drip into your ears, but only after you stop breaking down all the walls. — Nodded the girly side with dramatic flair.


  

  Sure, I could’ve grabbed that wicked old hag by the scruff and given her a proper shake, but I didn’t wanna traumatize Antwan. The kid's got a soft heart, and he didn’t need to see his aunt go full Mortal Kombat in the garden.

  So I just nodded, swallowed my pride, and followed Mother Dearest toward the ornate gates of our yard. As we walked, I glanced around at the crumbling pergolas and mossy garden statues. They’d been the pride of my actual home, but here, in this colorless pocket dimension, everything looked like it had given up on life decades ago.

  Antwan, ever the eager helper, was first to hit the gate remote. The portal buzzed open... revealing a dirt-choked road straight out of a medieval hygiene nightmare. The whole path was chewed up by ruts from carts, wagons, and whatever else people still dragged around before the invention of brakes.

  Ragged drivers led sluggish oxen by the reins while overloaded wagons moaned like they were dying with every bump. A troop of armored horsemen in full kit rode alongside the caravan, spears ready to stab anything that twitched too suspiciously.

  They passed Antwan without so much as a side-eye, even though he clearly did not match the local dress code. He looked like a Calvin Klein ad got lost in a Renaissance Faire.

  I walked up and patted him on the shoulder.

  

  
• My mother really outdid herself, huh? Breathe in that fragrant stench of rot and human Can’t you just feel the urge to challenge someone to a duel over a chicken? Who would've thought Hugh Everett's Many-Worlds interpretation would get used like this?


  

  Antwan just shrugged, dazed. Ilania, meanwhile, wandered off like a woman on a brunch mission, not even bothering to close the gate behind her. We followed, me casually, Antwan spinning his head left and right like he was afraid to miss the next dragon on parade.

  The dirt road, fenced on both sides by a wild forest, didn’t go far before opening up into the outskirts of a tiny medieval town. No walls, no guards. Just sleepy buildings huddled together like they were sharing gossip. One- and two-story huts, complete with weathervanes and crooked chimneys, looked like they’d been squatting there since the dawn of moss.

  Despite Antwan’s shiny sneakers and tight jeans, no one paid us any attention. Not even the dirt dared cling to his outfit. He was still sparkly clean, like a walking detergent commercial.