Grenair

Winter sprinted for the finish line. But Amonkhet’s chariot thundered across first, followed by an Alacrian rider, and finally the Duskmourn survivor. With victory and freedom so close yet fully out of reach, he fell to his knees, defeated.

“And…that’s the race!” A homunculus announcer sauntered into view, seizing Winter’s hand and dragging him to his feet with a surprisingly strong handshake. “Good race, good sir! You came in fourth. Or, well, we still have to wait for the others to finish, but it’s over for-”

“FOURTH!” Winter’s wraith magic sprung to life, igniting his hair and illuminating his skull with sinister blue flames. His voice carried a demonic echo as he blustered over a relatively minute detail, compared to his transformation, “What do you mean, Vnwxt! That was third place for sure!”

The MC tapped his earpiece before replying, “Nope, sorry! Our cameras are pretty high-tech. Replay crew says you’re in fourth.”

“You’re robbing me! Robbing me of…” Winter’s anger petered out, as did his flames, once he realized both first place and the Aetherspark were still beyond him. “Who came in third?”

“That’d be…The Quickbeasts!”

“And second?”

“…Amonkhet. Though, they’re the first racing team to cross the line, so they’ll get the thing.”

“What wretch won the blasted race, then!”

“One of our cameramen-slash-announcers.”

“THAT DOESN’T COUNT!”

Again, Winter caught flame. But with a wave of Vnwxt’s hand, the ghostly fire was doused just as easily, albeit much to Winter’s disbelief.

“That’s Duskmourn magic! How did you…Surely the cameraman doesn’t count!”

“Cameraman-slash-announcer!” Vnwxt corrected playfully. “And like I said, Amonkhet still wins. Don’t believe me? Here.”

The host snapped his fingers, summoning an instant replay into thin air. Sure enough, a quadrupedal vehicle sprinted across the line first, racing out of frame just as Amonkhet crossed the finish line.

“I can’t believe it…” Winter scowled, diverting his anger toward this new revelation.

"immortality sucks because you forget who you are" we always forget who we are. do you remember who you were at four years of age? who you were at fourteen? "who i am" is a shadow cast on the wall.