“No, you and I are evenly matched in sparring now; and he’d be the same to you.” Chris Alan switched to the Broadleaf Form, but to no avail; Horus dodged and moved using the same exact fighting system and stood smiling.

“You will have to do better than that,” Horus noted mildly.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Chris Alan reached forward with both hands as Rafael shielded Autumn.

“Light Without Measure, I presume?” Horus asked. The question made Chris Alan stop the attack in its tracks. Chris Alan dropped his hands.

“Rafael, scan this being’s life signature.”

“He is emulating your own, body, soul and spirit, as he was emulating Susan Starrider’s earlier.”

Chris Alan nodded in understanding; Horus’ triad of temperament, interactive style and cognitive dynamics now mirrored his own precisely. “He’s looping energy from me somehow. The stronger I become, the stronger he becomes as well.” < And I’ll bet that Susan didn’t figure out what was happening until it was too late, > he added to himself.

“Alan, I’m scared.” Autumn admitted. Most people facing the White Hand were; but to be on the receiving end of it was both unexpected and terrible. “How are we going to defeat him? No one can beat *you*.”

“But Horus – yes, I know your name now, too – is *not* me, and that’s what makes all the difference.” Chris Alan smiled at Horus, but his tone was grave. “Who do you think warned you against trying to attack me? I heard the same voice at the same time. Count yourself blessed; not many siding with Darkness hear the voice of John Barnabus the Realm Master and live.” Chris Alan’s own voice became more earnest. “If you *really* want to be free of what enslaves you, then stand down *now*, let me help you, and save yourself from mortal danger.”

“Mortal danger?” Horus scoffed, although he sounded rather uncertain. “From who? No one can defeat the White Hand. Edwin said so.”

“True, but there’s a *reason* why the Lord of the Realms chose *me* to wield it. If anyone can figure out how to overcome it, *I* can.”