The Ninth Wonder-Chapter 28: The black winter (3)

Harley opened his eyes to see himself in a chilly space. He shivered, letting out a breath that formed steam in front of him.

’Where is this place?’ he questioned, looking at the far ends of the place.

He was currently in a square-shaped space with walls made of what seemed like ice. He was in a freezer, but how...?

All of a sudden, a black silhouette materialized from the ground, solidifying into the shape of a human.

"What the...?" Harley raised his hands in front of him, because in front of him was a carbon copy of himself, entirely made of black.

"What is the meaning of this? Are you the knight? Too scared to face a weak human in battle?!" He shouted, raising his fists even more.

The clone only smiled, shaking its head while clicking its tongue.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." It gazed straight at him. And then it spoke;

"You? A weak human?" The clone giggled menacingly, turning to look at one of the blank walls.

"Human doesn’t fit you well."

"Why you—" Harley stopped in the middle of a step that he wanted to take, because on the wall where the clone stood in front of, there was a scene playing. It was something he recognized.

’What is this!’ Harley took an involuntary step backward as he watched the scene unfold inside the makeshift screen.

It looked like a moving ship, but the view was from a few metres away. All of a sudden a pirate came around, patrolling to check the waters...

A hand morphed out of thin air, grabbing his mouth and a knife passed the man’s neck. Then a rope grabbed the pirate before he fell into the waters.

The image on the wall focused on the figure still standing, and there he saw himself, gazing at the waters with a cold gaze. His hair wasn’t fully white and was partially black; the silent winds carried the faint smell of blood.

"Did you feel guilty at all?" The clone suddenly asked, making Harley stare at him, frowning.

"What kind of trickery is this?" Harley walked forward, but then the clone pointed a finger at him.

"Don’t... Not yet. I still have a few more to show you." The clone smirked, and the scene on the wall switched.

This time he was sitting in front of a door, sitting beside the smiley young man, Jin. Harley shook his head, reminding himself why he killed the man.

’It’s all an illusion, they’re not real.’ He affirmed himself.

"They’re not real, huh? You think to use people as mere stepping stones, deceiving and manipulating them is right, as long as you progress." The clone spoke, smirking at the end.

"How far are you willing to go? Would you kill the other guy if he were to be in your way?" The clone asked, making Harley clench his fists.

The next scene showed him thinking about the exact process to escape the pirate ship. And the next scene showed when he got the affirmation to strive for a better life.

"All of these show who you truly are. It shows you for what you are..." The clone moved as it spoke.

Eerily, it had his exact voice; it was like he was listening to himself talk, which put him off.

’There’s something off. There has to be a way out of this illusion.’ Harley thought, glaring at the clone who started to circle around him.

Gazing at the clone now, its originally black frame had faded away.

It looked exactly like Harley now—same lean frame, same scarred knuckles, same half-smirk that never quite reached the eyes. But the frost had claimed it: skin pale as if it was dead, veins glowing faint blue under the surface, blood from the pirate ship still painted and dry on his body. Its eyes burned with that same cold fire the Black Winter carried.

Around them, the frozen memories hung like smoke—ghostly loops of the throat-slice, the false smiles, the looting sack, the quiet escape plan sketched in his mind, the captain’s trusting laugh—all drifting slow in the air, replaying without sound.

The Echo tilted its head, studying Harley the way a man studies his own reflection before smashing it.

"So," it said, voice low and perfectly his own, "here we are. Murderer. Liar. Thief. Strategist. Manipulator. Ah, a dreamer with a crown he hasn’t stolen yet." It spread its arms slightly, inviting. "You’ve seen it all. Every dirty step that kept you breathing. Every lie that bought you another sunrise. Every body you stepped over to get closer to whatever ’great standing’ looks like in that head of yours."

Harley kept quiet, for some reason he didn’t know what to say to all of that. But also, his body was feeling strangely cold. Unnaturally cold...

Then it hit him!

"My real body!" He shouted, glaring at the clone who smirked.

"You figured it out. Just give in to who you truly are, Harleyquin. You murderer, you’re amongst the ugliest of humans." The clone kept belittling him.

Then, it took one step closer. "Most men break here. They scream guilt. They beg forgiveness. They swear they’ll change." A small, cruel laugh escaped its lips. "You haven’t said a word of that. Not one apology. Not one tear. Why?"

Harley’s lips twitched—just the ghost of a smile.

"Because I’m not sorry."

The clone paused.

Harley kept going, voice rough from the cold but steady. "I cut that man’s throat because if I didn’t, he’d have cut mine the next watch. I lied to the boy because trust could get him to let his guard down. I planned the escape down to the tide because hoping for luck is how idiots die. I played the captain like a fiddle because men love other people submitting to them."

He coughed once—ice crystals flecking his lips—and spat them onto the ground.

"And the dreams?" The clone pressed. "The big talk about power, respect, you want to stand above the rats instead of being one?"

Harley met its gaze without blinking. "That’s the only part that’s honest. I want it. All of it. I just refuse to stay small, not anymore. First I have to get out of here."

A long silence. The memories around them began to flicker, thinning like dying embers.

The Echo lowered its arms. "Then you know what you are."

"Yeah," Harley said, raising his hands in front of him in a boxing pose.

Something cracked in the clone’s face—not ice, but the illusion itself. A thin fracture ran from eye to jaw. It laughed once—short, bitter, almost proud.

"You’re not afraid of me," it said. "Because you’re not afraid of yourself."

Harley lifted his sword—slow, shaking, but sure. "Never have been."

The Echo raised its own hands to fight too.

"Then prove it."

It lunged.

Harley met the strike—not with tricks this time, not with feints or ash or invisible hands. Just raw, ugly will. Bone clashed against bone immediately.

Harley may not be the best when it comes to using tools, but when it came to bare hands, he was a beast.

He blocked the ferocious punches and kicks like they were nothing, but he was still at a disadvantage...

The clone was fast, perfect; every move Harley had ever made failed. The hits hurt him, but he was enduring the onslaught.

And enduring was what he did best.

"Are you just going to stand back?!" The Echo shouted, twisting its body before releasing its leg in a vicious kick.

*Wham!*

Harley found himself sliding back a couple feet. He gritted his teeth and looked at his forearms which were red and throbbing.

The clone walked towards him with an unsettling smile and he nodded his head, lunging forward.

This time... He abandoned all defence; he just wanted to land a hit, just one hit with all his strength! He wanted to knock his fake’s teeth out, he wanted it to just cease to exist.

The final clash came when the Echo overreached—trying to mirror Harley’s own ruthless efficiency. Blood of red and also black splattered on the ground as they fought like animals.

But the clone was wrong to try to match his brutality. Harley twisted inside the guard, drove his elbow into the Echo’s throat, then raised his fist and landed an uppercut.

*Bang!*

The crack echoed like breaking glass.

The clone staggered. Fractures spiderwebbed across its body.

The Echo smiled one last time—Harley’s smile, cold and certain—then shattered into black snow that drifted upward and dissolved.

The cold around Harley’s body suddenly dissipated. And he could feel himself again; then, the view changed to the real world.

He snapped, looking at a knight in black armour standing in between him and Vernox like a statue.

"Ah, you already broke free." The same jarring voice came out, and Harley broke the ice surrounding his legs easily this time. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Across the ravine, Vernox’s own fight had gone silent. Vernox himself was slowly being encased in ice. The ice had almost covered his head completely, dangerously creeping towards his nose.

The Black Winter finally stirred, longsword lifting from the ice with a slow, grinding scrape.

But Harley only wiped blood from his mouth and looked straight at the knight, grasping the silver sword tightly.