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Kayvon is still moving, straightening a little more with each step, but clearly not himself. He says something I don't understand in that other language.

"What?"

"Bām, bahm, roof. Dammit, the word was roof. We need to get to the roof."

I look for security, anyone who might help. We turn another corner, and I see Mikey. He’s stumbling, grabbing his head.

"Mikey! We need to get to the roof!"

When he looks at me, I can instantly tell something is off. I can't imagine the inky black chasing us has reached this far already, and yet when he stares me down, I immediately clock an alien sort of menace in his eyes. That's all the warning I get before he runs at us, swinging his flashlight like a bat, moving faster than anyone his size has any right to.

"Mikey! It's me! It's Mary!"

Kayvon steps between us, blocking a downward swing with his arm as Mikey hisses, "You stupid academics are all the same! Making us stay late! Acting like you're better than us!"

My heart wrenches as the creeping shadow and my once-docile acquaintance trap us. His voice is wrong—not human, but pure malice. As he pushes harder, Kayvon drops low and sweeps the large man's leg, sending him crashing to the floor.

Kayvon grabs me by the wrist, both Kayvons finally seemingly aligned on my safety, and starts pulling me away from both Mikey and the shadow. As they do, a pang of realization shoots through me that if this is happening to Mikey, it must be happening to other people in the city. I worry that it's happening to Terry, Max, and Carol right now, too.

We are still sprinting, but Kayvon, both Kayvon's, don't know where to go as we fly up stairs and down corridors until we are cornered by a bathroom. I pull him inside, hoping maybe the door will buy us some time. Inside there is a window, but like everything in the museum, it is heavy-duty, meant to keep people from sneaking in or out. Even if it wasn't, we are at least three stories in the air by now.

I clutch my head and try to think, knowing that shadow will be here any moment to corrupt us or consume us or just make sure we can't annoy it anymore, and I still don't have the slightest inkling of a plan.

Meanwhile, I can hear Kayvon, both Kayvons, wrestling with each other next to me, the entire experience filling me with dread. Every time one starts talking, the other interrupts, making it sound like Kayvon is angrily muttering to himself. It only takes a few seconds for it all to become too much before I seize Kayvon by the shoulders and shake him.

"Snap out of it! If you two don't sort this out, we are going to die!" I say, inches from his face.

Kayvon, the other Kayvon, says back, "Easy for you to say; you are already merged."

"What are you talking about?"

"I told you, the girl who freed you. The girl you inhabit."

I let go of Kayvon and turn to the mirror that runs the length of the bathroom. I take a moment to look at myself, really look at myself, thinking of every off moment and every time I thought I saw, I knew I saw someone else's eyes behind my own.

It doesn't happen all at once, but slowly, in the mirror, something does change. My reflection ripples, not literally, not me in the real world. Instead, it’s like my mind is adjusting; in the same way my mind made sense of the Persian cuneiform, it is making sense of me.

My eyes go wide as another me, older, more weathered, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, stares back. She wears my clothes, but I know she isn’t me.

The other Kayvon stares at me in the mirror. "See? You are both there, not fighting."

The Mary staring back at me, the woman I now know beyond a doubt is Merytamun, the same woman I found in that tomb, gently shakes her head in the mirror. And now, strangely, the other Kayvon seems to notice her.

"You are not merged?" Kayvon asks.

I feel my own mouth keen to work, my own body eager to move, but I'm not controlling it. I don't fight, trusting as I let go and let my hand go to Kayvon's cheek and let the words flow freely. "Artaxerxes, my beloved. I know you are strong-willed, but you must be gentle with your host. You are two of the same kind."

Kayvon's entire demeanor changes at the utterance of this new name, and then, out of the corner of my eye, I can see him as well. As my own hand cups Kayvon's face, I see Merytamun cupping the cheek of an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard reflected back.

As my eyes focus, I watch Kayvon weep, nuzzling into her touch, yet I know it’s not Kayvon, but Artaxerxes. Kayvon must be letting go, just as I am, so we can thread this needle of a moment before time runs out.

Artaxerxes closes his eyes as he savors Merytamun's caress, even if it's from my hand. The words he says next sound so broken. "I'm so sorry, my kind watcher of the stars. If I had been stronger, none of this would have happened. I was afraid. I didn't want you to go. I didn't want to be without you, and in that tiny moment of doubt, I lost you all the same."

I feel hot tears prick my eyes as my mouth works again. "Do not weep, my love. Fate has given us a second chance. But time is short. If we are to purify the aspect of Kamak, we must be one again. Our love, together."

He gently nods, Kayvon's stubble scraping against my hand. I can feel that hot wetness rolling down my cheeks the same way I see it on Kayvon's face. I wish I could give these two a lifetime to say everything they want to each other. And yet that is the moment the bathroom lights begin to dim, the inky black creeping under the door.

Artaxerxes seems unaware or unconcerned with the danger as he squeezes his eyes tight and says, "But what if I lose you again?"