I decided it was time.
A true physical form—not a projection, not a dream-shadow, but something recognizable. Something approachable.
Creating a human body was… surprisingly easy.
I shaped it carefully, instinct guiding me more than logic. When I was finished, I looked exactly like I had in my previous life. Same face. Same proportions. Same small imperfections. Familiar.
Cute, even.
I tilted my head, studying myself. There was something grounding about it—a reminder of what I had been. What I still cared about.
"This will do," I murmured.
The form wasn't meant to replace what I was. Just… supplement it. A mask I could wear when interacting with mortals someday, when humanity finally arrived.
With a thought, I let it dissolve.
Yellow light folded inward, angles sharpening, reality bending around me as I returned to my true shape—a floating triangle, eye gleaming, bow tie perfectly aligned.
That was when my bow tie started ringing.
Not audibly. Conceptually.
A summoning.
"Oh?" I said, intrigued.
Reality yanked sideways.
I vanished—and reappeared on a new planet.
The air was humid, salty. I hovered above a vast stone chamber lit by bioluminescent algae. Below me stood a circle carved into the floor—ancient symbols etched with surprising precision.
And surrounding it…
Otters.
Tall, bipedal, furred creatures with intelligent eyes and ornate jewelry woven into their whiskers. They stared up at me in awe, tails flicking nervously.
Sentient otter-people.
I blinked once.
"…Where did you get that circle?" I asked.
They didn't answer immediately. One stepped forward, trembling slightly, holding up a massive pearl that glowed softly from within.
"We found it," the otter said in careful, newly developed speech. "In dreams."
Ah.
That explained it.
They bowed deeply.
"We wish for wealth beyond imagining."
Of course they did.
I considered them for a moment. No immediate malice. Just desperation and ambition—very mortal traits.
"Very well," I said. "But there will be terms."
Their ears flattened.
"In exchange," I continued calmly, "I take your soul when you die. And you will never speak of this deal. To anyone. Ever."
They hesitated—only for a second.
Then they agreed.
Honestly? Predictable.
We shook on it—not physically, but spiritually. The contract burned itself into reality, clean and binding.
As for the payment?
They used pearls as currency.
So I made pearls.
Entire vaults of them—perfect, flawless, impossible. I didn't even need to try. Matter obeyed without complaint.
The moment the deal finalized, I felt it.
A shift.
A small but undeniable boost in power. Not massive—but noticeable. Contracts mattered. Souls mattered.
Interesting.
"Enjoy your wealth," I said, already fading. "And remember—silence."
I vanished.
I reappeared beside Bill.
He was upside-down, juggling fragments of broken dimensions.
"Heya, sis!" he said cheerfully. "You missed some real fun!"
"I got summoned," I replied. "By otters."
Bill froze.
"…Otters?"
"They used a summoning circle."
His eye narrowed.
"…What kind of summoning circle?"
We compared notes.
Same symbols.
Same structure.
Same call.
The realization hit us at the same time.
"Oh," Bill said slowly. "That's… not good."
"Anyone using that circle," I said, "can summon either of us."
"Which means," Bill grinned, "someone trying to bargain for gold might accidentally get me."
"And someone trying to summon you might get me," I countered.
We both paused.
Then spoke in unison.
"That's a problem."
Summoning magic didn't distinguish between us anymore. To the universe, we were still too closely related—two halves of a broken whole.
Which meant this wasn't something we could fix.
So we went to the Axolotl.
We found it floating peacefully, asleep as always, curled like a cosmic question mark.
Bill cleared his throat loudly. "HEY, FISH-GOD. WAKE UP."
One massive eye slowly opened.
The Axolotl regarded us patiently.
"We have an issue," I said. "Our summoning signatures are overlapping."
"Yes," it replied serenely. "I noticed."
"Then fix it," Bill snapped.
The Axolotl blinked.
"No."
I frowned. "Why not?"
"Because," it said, "this is the consequence of shared origin. You are separate beings—but still conceptually linked. To divide that completely would destabilize fundamental laws."
Bill scowled. "So what, we're stuck like this?"
"Not stuck," the Axolotl corrected. "Limited."
I crossed my arms. "So what's the workaround?"
The Axolotl's gaze softened slightly.
"You will have to define yourselves," it said. "Through symbols. Names. Domains. Worship. Contracts. Choices."
"Individuation through myth," I murmured.
"Yes."
Bill grinned slowly.
"Oh, I love this already."
I wasn't sure I did.
But the rules were clear now.
If I wanted to stop being accidentally summoned as Bill Cipher—
I'd have to become something distinct.
Something the universe could no longer confuse.
And that meant my story was only just beginning.