Rising Moon

Chapter 13

The city slept after the day's rambunctious shenanigans MK and his friends having spent hours experimenting with the duplication spell, wielding it without true training. There had been no instruction on separating the mind from the clones, no discipline in assigning more than a single, simple task. The result had been chaos.

Sandy had called Macaque midway through the afternoon, concern evident in his voice as he described MK's increasingly erratic behavior, his fixation on perfection, especially in anything involving painting. The boy had grown obsessive, agitated whenever a line wasn't straight or a color wasn't exact.

Macaque hadn't needed long to piece it together.

With each question Sandy answered, the picture sharpened. The restlessness. The compulsive repetition. The narrowing focus.

"Have you asked Pigsy and Tang, if they have seen him behave like this today, he could have potentially learned a botched version of the duplication spell Wukong knows " Macaque had asked.

There had been a pause.

His suspicion solidified.

By the time Sandy reached out to Pigsy and Tang, the theory was all but confirmed, MK had been making multiple clones. Ones that hadn't been properly anchored. Ones that had been left running on a single directive with no awareness of consequence.

The cleanup and repainting of the boat had taken the rest of Sandy's day, exhaustion settling deep into his bones by the time he finally returned home.

After dinner, Sandy had gone straight to bed, stopping only to tuck the children in. One by one, he kissed their foreheads, murmuring soft goodnights, before wandering into the bedroom. Macaque received a quiet goodnight as well, offered from the doorway while he finished washing the last of the dishes.

The house fell silent soon after.

Once everyone was asleep, Macaque opened his eyes.

Shadow peeled away from him as a clone slid seamlessly into his place, breathing slow, posture perfect. Macaque was already gone, reappearing elsewhere in the city as the night deepened around him.

Lanterns dimmed to embers. Streets emptied. Even the ever-present hum of engines and distant voices softened into something closer to breathing than sound.

Macaque stood atop the tallest building in the city, balanced easily at the edge, as if gravity itself had forgotten to claim him.

Wind tugged at his hair and sleeves.

He did not move.

His ears fanned outward, glowing faintly as his magic unfurled, layer upon layer of sound folding into his awareness. Every footstep. Every whisper of cloth. Every heartbeat thudding behind walls and beneath rooftops.

Too many.

Too loud.

And beneath it all..

Whispers.

His eyes opened, amethyst light spilling softly into the night.

There.

Not one source. Not one direction.

They threaded through the city like veins beneath skin, slipping between alleys, brushing past sleeping homes, skimming rooftops before vanishing again. Not voices, not exactly. Residual intent. Magic that had learned how to linger.

Macaque turned his back to the distant glow of the city below.

Then he stepped back into empty air.

For a heartbeat, he fell gliding with the wind as he started descend closer and closer to the buildings. 

Then his foot struck stone.

He landed on the edge of a lower building in a controlled roll, cloak snapping behind him before settling. Without pause, he launched himself forward again, leaping, twisting, using momentum with the ease of long practice.

Downward. Forward. Faster.

He vaulted a narrow gap, palm brushing a wall as he redirected, boots striking stone only long enough to push off again. Shadows stretched eagerly toward him, bending unnaturally as he passed.

Macaque vanished into one and emerged from another, reappearing halfway across a rooftop, eyes glowing brighter with each phase-step.

By the time he slowed, the whispers had gathered.

The destination was unremarkable.

An empty stretch between buildings. A service alley long abandoned. No movement. No lingering sound. Just damp concrete and the distant drip of water.

Macaque straightened, tail swaying once as his ears twitched.

"...This is where you were," he murmured.

He raised one hand and traced a precise gesture through the air.

A seal bloomed outward, translucent and intricate, symbols folding over one another as the world shifted.

Magic residue flared into view.

Cold.

Sharp.

Frost demon magic that was thin, deliberate, left behind not by accident but by intent. It clung to the ground and walls in fractured patterns, like breath crystallized mid-exhale.

Macaque crouched, fingers brushing the air just above it.

"Recently," he said quietly.

Then his nose wrinkled.

Decay.

Faint. Old. Almost fully dispersed, but unmistakable once noticed.

His jaw tightened.

He scanned the surrounding buildings, eyes narrowing as he tracked the residue's path how it splintered, how it vanished and reappeared, how it refused to behave like normal magic should.

"...You're learning," he murmured. "That's worse."

The seal faded. The alley returned to darkness.

Macaque straightened, glow dimming as he exhaled slowly. For a moment, he stood still, listening again, ears angling, tail flicking in agitation.

Nothing followed.

Good.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, they burned brighter than before.

His form dissolved.

Shadow peeled away from muscle and bone until only glowing amethyst eyes remained suspended for a heartbeat above the ground, before even those dimmed and vanished.

The darkness swallowed him whole.

By the time the city stirred again, Macaque was already home.

The house remained quiet. Protected. Whole.

He slipped back into bed beside Sandy without disturbing the rhythm of his breathing, shadow clone dissolving seamlessly as flesh took its place.

Moonlight brushed his face.

Macaque lay still, eyes closed, ears twitching faintly as the last traces of cold magic faded from his senses.

Whatever had moved through the city that night it had not gone far.