The sky was churning with black clouds. The scent of rain mixed with blood and metal. A storm was coming.
The Faceless knelt on the ground, trembling slightly, his fingers clawed into the mud as if trying to hold himself together.
"I don't know what's real anymore," he said in a hoarse voice, cracking like something broken inside him.
The Hero knelt only a few feet away, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see the villain's face.
It was right there, plain and open, yet every time his eyes landed on it, his mind went blank, like waking from a dream he couldn't remember. The Faceless's face blurred the second it was seen. It was always like that, always.
"What do you mean?" the Hero asked. His hand pressed against the sword impaled in his chest. He staggered, barely staying on his knees. The blood soaked into the earth beneath him, mixing with the Faceless's own dark pool.
A low, eerie chuckle came from the Faceless. It didn't sound human. "Because I don't know who I am. Or what I look like." He tilted his head back, smiling into the grey sky. "Tragic, isn't it?"
The Hero didn't answer. He was too busy keeping himself upright. They were both dying. Both pierced through the heart, both kneeling in the cold dirt like forgotten statues in a graveyard.
A sharp wind blew through the dead trees. Crows watched in silence from above, not daring to caw.
"I have a regret," the Faceless muttered, staring at his blood-covered hands. "Before I die... I wanted an identity. Something to call mine."
He slowly lifted his head, turning toward the Hero. His voice dropped to a whisper that crawled into the Hero's ear like a curse. "Hey, Hero… will you give me yours?"
The Hero blinked slowly. His lips barely moved. "Don't want to," he breathed.
The Faceless chuckled again, but it sounded so cold this time, layered with something unnatural. Black smoke began to seep from his wounds, curling around his shoulders like tendrils.
"How rude," he said, as if hurt. But his eyes gleamed with twisted joy. "Then I guess… I'll take it."
"Hm?"
"I'll steal your identity. I'll become you," he whispered. "And you... You can finally rest."
The Hero's breath hitched. The shadows grew longer. Something terrible began to shift in the air, like reality itself was bending.
Rain finally fell. Cold, heavy drops splashed onto blood, steel, and dying hearts.
And still… the Hero could not remember the villain's face.