The flight to the surface was slower than it should have been, perhaps out of extra concern. Varis didn't seem to care about my physical weight, yet somewhere the relaxed professor wasn't there at that moment.

  "Finally, we can go back," she declared, setting me down on the ground. "All the other students have already been escorted back to the school, except for these two, who refused to leave."

  "Two?" The question came naturally. I saw Katia, huddled on a stone block. I strained my vision to identify the other person. There was a figure standing out behind her.

  Elian?

  My feet moved automatically toward Katia. I needed to get to her, needed to see with my own eyes that she was okay. But on the first step, something failed. A sudden tremor ran through my body, as if my bones had turned to water. The world spun slightly, the horizon tilting dangerously.

  Firm hands grabbed my shoulders before I could fall. Varis.

  "Don't push yourself so hard." Her voice was low, just for me. Then, she raised her gaze, calling the others. "Steeloo! Icehart! Over here, now."

  Elian reacted first, crossing the distance with long, determined strides. Katia rose from the stone, her movements initially slow but accelerating when she saw Varis holding me. Her face, once a mask of desolation, was overtaken by a new wave of panic.

  Varis waited until both were close. Her tone, when she spoke again, was no longer just that of a teacher giving orders. It was laden with something heavier, a contained urgency.

  "She's exhausted." Varis said, her eyes alternating between Elian and Katia. "I know you were worried, but save most of that for when she's better."

  I can't move properly. — My line of sight crossed Katia's. For a moment, she just stood there, as if unsure what to do with her own hands.

  A squeeze under my shoulders that hadn't yet happened, the lack of expression or speech uncharacteristic of Katia, took form. She closed the remaining distance and wrapped me in a hug.

  I felt her face pressed against my shoulder, the trembling of her body against mine, but no sound came from her. Just an intense, loaded silence, more eloquent than any words.

  Sorry... But I can't apologize for this. — The first word of this thought didn't seem like the right thing to do. Silence was the best response I could give right now.

  When my eyes, over Katia's shoulder, met Elian's, he wasn't looking at us. His gaze was fixed on the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. He seemed locked in something that prevented him from raising his head.

  When he finally did, it was only to meet my eyes for a fraction of a second before looking away again, his face still a shadow of what it used to be.

  "I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, her gaze moving from Katia to Elian. "But the snow girl needs medical treatment."

  She gestured with her head toward the road leading from the ruins. There, in the distance, small groups of uniformed guards were positioned at regular intervals, forming a guarded route back to civilization.

  "Steeloo, Icehart," Varis continued, her tone taking on the authority of an order. "You two will return with the guards. They've been instructed to escort all students back to the school gates. It's a safe route."

  Her eyes then turned to me, and her voice lowered a notch, gaining a metallic urgency.

  "As for you, I'll take you directly. It's faster than the road, and the school's healer chapter is already alerted to receive you."

  Before I could articulate any response, her arms enveloped me again. This time, the movement was less support and more a capture. An invisible gust of wind lifted dust around us, and the ground receded beneath my feet.

  From above, amidst the vertigo of the ascent, my blurred vision captured the scene left behind. Katia and Elian, two figures rapidly shrinking in size, were facing each other. Katia was gesturing, her body still tense from our abrupt farewell. Elian seemed to respond, his posture rigid, head tilted. But the sound of the wind and the distance had already swallowed any words, turning their reunion into a silent pantomime.

  The panorama of the ruins and the surrounding forest expanded below us as Varis gained altitude, directing our flight in a straight, fast line toward the distant spires of the Academy.

  "Professor," the wind muffled my voice. "What happened?"

  For a few seconds, the only sound was the air whistling in our ears. Varis kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, her face a serious profile against the sky. Then, slowly, she turned enough for me to see her eyes.

  "Phoenicis," she began, her voice clear despite the wind, as if she were projecting the words directly to me. "The truth is, I don't know. Not completely."

  "From my point of view, I saw your group in the center of the ruins, debating something around the artifact. And then, out of nowhere, the ground simply vanished. And they fell."

  Her chin tensed slightly.

  "I reached the ruins within seconds. But the ground was perfect. No marks or cracks; there was not the slightest sign that a cave-in or hole had opened there moments before."

  A sigh, almost lost in the wind, escaped her.

  "Of course, that doesn't absolve my responsibility. I apologize again; as the instructor, I failed you."

  "When we fell," I said, the memory coming with clarity, "the ceiling above us was also intact. No hole or light from above. Also, we didn't feel the impact of the fall; it didn't feel like we fell from a height proportional to where we were."

  Varis took her eyes off the horizon and fixed them on me. Her expression was complex, a mix of professional assessment and something more personal, almost intrigued. She hesitated for a second, as if weighing her words.

  "You... are quite different, aren't you?" The phrase came out more like a thought spoken aloud than a directed comment.

  Different? Different how? It doesn't seem like she's talking about my appearance. — The thought spun inside my head, finding no anchor.

  "Anyway, I appreciate the account. It's an important piece. When you're better," she emphasized, giving a significant look to my condition, "I'll need to ask for more details. All of them."

  Details, huh... — The images of the underground city returned in full force. The voices in the strange language echoed in my memory.

  Should I talk about this?

  "Varis... how long have I been missing?" I asked, the next doubt arising naturally. "When I came back, most of the students had already been sent back."

  "I believe about an hour and a half has passed since I arrived at your location."

  Ninety minutes? The number hung, dissociated from the weight of the experience. In my perception, it hadn't been more than thirty.

  Before the next question could embrace reality, the answer already echoed in my mind as an already-experienced fact.

  "About how I found you all, now is not the time. Focus on recovering."

  The rest of the flight was made in thick silence, broken only by the wind. The spires and towers of the Academy grew until they filled the horizon, and soon we were descending toward the wide training courtyards, now deserted.

  Three figures waited under the arch of the main entrance: Selene, and beside her, a tall, thin man with indigo blue hair, wearing heavy clothes that covered his entire body.

  Varis guided me the last few steps to where a medical team, identifiable by their green emblems, already awaited with a stretcher.

  "Take good care of her," Varis said to the leader of the medical team.

  As I was accompanied inside the buildings. My gaze fixed on the trio walking away. Selene, Varis, and the man were walking toward one of the administrative towers, their steps quick and their conversation already starting in low, urgent voices before disappearing from view.

  Inside the medical wing, an environment of bright walls and the smell of clean herbs, I was gently transferred to a lower stretcher. Two nurses—a man and a woman, both with calm, professional demeanors—began their evaluation.

  The evaluation was methodical until they reached the cut near my collarbone. The woman stopped, her fingers hovering over the wound without touching it. Her companion also stood still for a moment, his gaze examining the injury with an attention that seemed to exceed what was necessary for a simple cut.

  "How are you feeling?" he finally asked, his voice carefully neutral, while his colleague began cleaning the area with a cold, damp cloth.

  "My head hurts, but it's tolerable," I replied, the truth being easier than trying to invent something. "The wound doesn't bother me much."

  They exchanged a brief glance before resuming their work. The tests that followed were thorough: they pressed specific points on my torso and back, asked me to breathe deeply, passed a hand enveloped in a soft green glow over my abdomen and ribs. The diagnostic magic was a cold, tingling sensation.

  After a few minutes, the nurse gave a positive nod to her colleague.

  "No apparent internal trauma," the man declared, his tone now a bit lighter, but still professional. "No fractures, no hidden bleeding."

  They then turned their attention to my shoulder, applying a strong-smelling ointment before bandaging it with clean, firm bandages. The process was quick, almost routine.

  "As for the headache," said the nurse, gathering her instruments, "it's probably stress and exhaustion, both physical and magical. Rest and you'll be fine. As for the wound, it should close in two weeks; don't worry, there won't be a scar."

  The nurses finished gathering their instruments and took a step back, their work done.

  "The room is yours. Rest and avoid sudden movements," said the man, pointing to a small silver bell on the bedside table. "If you need anything, just ring."

  I nodded in thanks, a small gesture that already demanded more energy than I had. They left, closing the door with a soft click that echoed in the sudden silence of the room.

  The sound of the back of my head meeting the pillow was louder than expected. "What exhaustion... I honestly don't want to think about anything."

  A vain prayer; instinctively, I knew there was no way to ignore every detail of the preceding events.

  How do I start organizing this? A timeline, perhaps? — Thoughts began to take shape against my will, or perhaps following part of it. "Practical lesson, artifact, cave-in, subterranean chamber, that strange creature... and finally, the city."

  "Now that I stop to think, there's a connection between the ruins on the surface and the subterranean ones, but how exactly does that link to the cave-in? According to our perspective and Varis's account, the most likely explanation is teleportation. I know it exists, but I know nothing about how it works; perhaps I should look something up in the library?"

  The back of my hand rested against my eyes. Another attempt to embrace the darkness.

  "Another important thing: it doesn't seem the school was aware of this event; otherwise, a practical exercise like this would never happen."

  "That one creature... Wait, there were several others; I didn't get a close look at them, but they seemed strange. That's another topic I should look into. If I'm not mistaken, Katia mentioned that intelligent creatures existed, but the regeneration was strange..."

  I felt my fingers clench with a strength I didn't know I still had.

  "Katia tried to warn me about it. Before the creature appeared, I was trying to show her that statue. She said the others had found inscriptions; were they the same type as the ones I found in that corridor?"

  The pillow under my head suddenly seemed hard and uncomfortable. I turned on my side with a muffled sigh, feeling the bandages on my shoulder pull slightly.

  "The hall... Statues... Those inscription “Reju piko?”... seemed too logical ... Perhaps..." — Thoughts began to be carried away, a brief moment where… my present consciousness intertwined with future unconsciousness. "Embohasa pe yvyra."

  "..."

  The air inside the conference room was as dense as lead. The afternoon light, filtered through the high stained-glass windows, couldn't dissipate the feeling of weight hanging over the white marble room.

  This is my first month as a professor. How could I fail like this...

  "Varis," Selene began the discussion after the sound of the door closing. "What happened? The first report before your arrival say part of the student group disappeared."

  "The report is correct, but it appears to be a summary of what happened.," I said, keeping my voice as flat as possible.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  “Explain” She said without hesitation.

  "The students were in the center of the ruins, carrying out the practical exercise. I was at the observation point. The next second, the ground beneath their feet gave way. I reached the spot moments later to find a depression in the earth where the soil had been removed, but no hole, no tunnel, no passage leading downward."

  Selene averted her gaze to the table for an instant. The man beside her, Veyr, crossed his arms.

  "What's your read on the situation?" Selene asked, interlocking her fingers before returning her gaze to me.

  "A teleport is the only thing that fits. But at the same time it doesn't make sense. I felt nothing. No activation wave, no residual mana spike, no signature of conjuration. And to move eleven people at once, under those conditions, it should have been like a flare in my perception."

  She nodded slowly. "Did you sense anyone else's presence at the site?"

  "Nothing," I replied, lowering my eyes to the floor. "After the event, I searched for the entire closer areas. There was only the residual mana from the students themselves."

  Selene seemed to ponder for a moment, her gaze lost in the faint glow of the brazier.

  The silence that followed was filled by the soft whisper of the flame in the brazier. It was Veyr who broke it, his voice maintaining that flat, utilitarian tone.

  "Changing the subject, you mentioned finding the students in a lower chamber after the supposed teleportation. How did you locate them? The ruins are extensive, and you said there was no sign of them on the surface."

  "At that point, things start getting more complex," I began, organizing the facts in my mind. "The initial protocol was followed. I alerted the guard patrol and began a search, focusing on map points where there might be access to caves or hidden chambers. But even so, we didn’t find anything"

  I paused, the memory of that frustration growing again.

  "Then, about an hour after the disappearance, I heard a muffled boom. It came from an area about two kilometers northeast of the initial area."

  Veyr followed with a slight tilt of his head, a sign to continue.

  "When I arrived... nothing again. But that sound had been real. So I decided to fix the search in that area and remained there for a few minutes."

  The sensation returned, sharp and repulsive.

  "I felt something strange below ground. It was a mana signature that didn't seem to match anything I'd seen before. And with the students missing, the possibility that they were trapped down there, with that thing... — my voice firmed. — I fired a projectile with the intent to create an access route and interrupt whatever was happening."

  Veyr slightly raised his eyebrows, the first clear reaction beyond that analytical posture. It wasn't disapproval, but a surprised recognition of the... direct approach.

  Selene, for her part, didn't alter her expression. She merely inclined her head in a short gesture.

  "I managed to open the path to them. And later, speaking with Katia Icehart and Elian Steeloo, they confirmed: the boom I heard was the cave-in of part of their chamber's ceiling, caused by themselves during a confrontation with monsters."

  “Monsters?”

  “Yes, the girl Katia didn’t seem willing to talk much. Elian said the monsters had a humanoid shape, leaning more toward a charred skeleton with little flesh left. They mentioned there was one more monster, the one responsible for the strange mana.

  "I trust your field judgment, Varis. In a situation of potential life risk, decisive action is preferable to hesitation," Selene said, her voice firm. However, her eyes narrowed a degree.

  "But that brings us to the next point of inconsistency. The second report that arrived mentions the rescue of ten students, but upon your arrival, you informed that all students were found."

  "Exactly," I replied, the scene reconstructing itself clearly in my mind. "When I descended through the access I created, I found the group of ten students. It was Elian Steeloo who approached me immediately."

  I paused, searching for the exact words Elian had used.

  "He reported that, moments before my projectile hit the chamber, they were engaged in combat against a large creature. My intervention, according to him, not only opened the ceiling but created a secondary fissure. And at that exact moment, student Mio Al Phoenicis was in the line of that discharge. She disappeared into it before the main group could react."

  The room fell silent again, the weight of the new information adding to the existing one.

  This time, it was Selene who broke the silence. Her eyes, usually so impenetrable, widened for a fraction of a second upon hearing the full name.

  "Mio Al Phoenicis… That elementless girl..." she repeated, as if tasting the sound of the syllables. Then, her gaze fixed on me again, sharper. "You arrived bringing this student with you, Varis. You just said she disappeared into a fissure created by your attack. So, how exactly did you recover her?"

  The question hung in the air, direct and loaded.

  I took a deep breath, the memory of that ghostly apparition still vivid.

  "Vice-Director... I didn't recover her." My voice sounded oddly flat even to me. "She found me."

  I saw Veyr's eyebrow rise a millimeter as he wrote in a small pocket notebook. Selene didn't move, but her attention intensified like a beam of light.

  "After extracting the ten students and ensuring they were on their way to the surface with the guards, I remained at the site. The fissure through which Mio had disappeared was, like the surface, impassable. My analysis is that the ground opened and reconstructed itself at the same moment."

  "After searching up for her I was assessing the risks of a deeper excavation when she simply walked out of one of the chamber's side passages. She also gave a brief account during the flight back. She said that, from their perspective, when they 'fell' into that initial chamber, the ceiling above was intact, confirming the lack of logic of a conventional fall."

  "Varis," she said, and her voice had lost a bit of that investigative steel, gaining a more restrained tone. "Regardless of the conclusions the investigations may point to, understand one thing: the final responsibility for this incident does not rest entirely on your shoulders."

  "You were the designated supervisor. But what occurred there was an atypical phenomenon that escaped all protocols and predictions. No instructor, however experienced, could have been prepared for an event of this nature."

  She paused, letting the words settle.

  "I ask for your patience. The investigation I ordered will proceed, both in the ruins and in the forest. We need concrete information, not assumptions or premature blame. Finally, you will be responsible for approaching the involved students and building a more elaborate report."

  “Yes Vice-Director”

  "Now, go. Rest. You also went through a traumatic event. You are relieved of your duties for the rest of the day. The formal report can wait until tomorrow."

  Before I could turn to leave, one last consideration froze my feet in place.

  "There's one more thing," I said, now more relaxed.

  The exact moment the words left my lips, a precise sound echoed against the heavy wood of the door.

  "Enter," ordered Selene, her expression returning to alert neutrality.

  The door opened, and a forest patrol guard appeared in the frame, his uniform still stained with earth from the ruins. He held an oblong bundle, wrapped in a coarse linen cloth.

  "Instructor Varis," he said with a short nod. "The item you requested."

  "The timing is perfect," I commented, extending my hands. "Thank you."

  The guard carefully placed the bundle in my palms. It was heavier than it looked, and the rough cloth hid something irregular. I felt the cold weight of the object through the cloth.

  Veyr watched, interested. Selene kept her eyes fixed on the package, waiting.

  "This," I said, holding the bundle before me, "was recovered from the center of the square underground, exactly at the point where the discharge struck."

  Without ceremony, I pulled one end of the coarse cloth and unrolled it on the polished table before Selene.

  It was an arm. The skin had a gray-slate hue, rough and marked by spiral patterns resembling healed burns.

  At the severed end, tiny filaments of dark, wet flesh writhed like blind worms. They stretched, seeking the air, trying to intertwine. The regeneration was slow, almost imperceptible to the naked eye, but undeniable. The limb was stubbornly trying to regenerate.

  "This," my voice sounded hollow in the absolute silence, "according to the description from Icehart and Steeloo, appears to belong to the creature they were engaged with. They mentioned regeneration. This... confirms."

  None of us spoke. Veyr, who until then had maintained a steady stream of silent note-taking, stopped abruptly. He closed his pocket notebook with a dry snap and placed it with deliberate calm on the table, next to the arm, as if marking the point. His gray eyes were now completely fixed on that biological aberration.

  Selene didn't look at the arm immediately. Her first movement was to look at Veyr, a quick, intense glance carrying a world of non-verbal communication. Something between an alert and a dark confirmation. Then, and only then, did she lower her gaze to the pulsating limb on her table.

  Her face showed no disgust or surprise. It showed a cold acceptance, the recognition of a problem that had just escalated to a totally new category.

  "Put it here," she finally said, her voice metallic and controlled. She pointed to a clear space on the table, away from her papers. "And then, Varis, fulfill what we agreed. You are dismissed. Leave us to deal with this."

  The order was clear. The matter, for now, was closed to me. The arm, and all it represented, now belonged to them.

  Pe Santa nde réra oikóma.

  The strange words, with their musical cadence and guttural sounds, echoed in the void of my awakening like a fragment of an impossible dream. They had no meaning. And yet, they seemed to have weight, as if they had been branded into some deep corner of my mind.

  "I wish this would stop." I murmured to the white ceiling, my voice hoarse from sleep and residual exhaustion.

  The headache had subsided to a dull throb, but the feeling of weight, of something embedded, persisted. I carefully pushed the blankets aside, feeling the bandages on my shoulder pull slightly. My body protested, every muscle remembering the abuses of the last hours?

  How many hours did I sleep?

  The light entering through the single high window in the room was diffuse and whitish. A declaration that the moon was in the sky.

  A figure was curled up in the hard wooden chair beside my bed. The head, crowned by hair of a lavender faded under the weak moonlight, was tilted to the side, resting against the high back. The arms were crossed over her chest, as if in defense even in sleep.

  I reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, shaking it in a gentle motion.

  "Katia."

  She sniffed, turning her head to the other side.

  "Is... is it time for coffee already?" Her voice came out slurred, full of sleep. "Half... half a cup... just give me five more minutes..."

  I couldn't help a slight smile. It was so like her, even on the threshold of sleep.

  "It's not coffee," I said, keeping my tone low but firm. "It's training time."

  The effect was instantaneous. Her entire body tensed in the chair, as if receiving a small shock. Her lavender eyes opened suddenly, still cloudy but focusing on me with an expression of pure, genuine despair. She was silent for three seconds that felt like an eternity, processing reality.

  Then, her gaze fixed on my face, and the expression of despair dissolved into a mix of relief and theatrical reproach.

  "Mio..." she said, her voice still rough from sleep but laden with a tone of censure. "Don't ever do that again."

  A comfortable silence hung between us, broken only by Katia's low laugh. The smile gradually faded, giving way to more practical concern.

  "How are you feeling?" Katia asked, straightening in the chair and rubbing an eye with her fist.

  "In tatters," I admitted, without mincing words. "But I'm okay." I paused, letting the absurdity of the situation sink in. "I just entered the school. Barely completed a week of classes and this happens."

  Katia let out a deep, almost dramatic sigh, and let her head fall back against the chair's backrest.

  "That is undoubtedly the worst practical exercise in history," she exclaimed.

  She got up from the chair, stretching her body. Her eyes still looked tired, but the usual spark was returning.

  "Anyway, do you need anything?" she asked, scanning the room as if looking for something to do. "Water? Something to eat? The nurses said you could have light things."

  The question awakened a sudden awareness in my stomach. The last thing I remembered eating was breakfast, an eternity ago, before the practical lesson.

  "Cake," I replied, without thinking much. The idea of something sweet and soft seemed comfortingly normal. "I'd love a piece of cake."

  Katia stopped stretching and turned to stare at me. Her face took on an exaggeratedly serious, almost professorial expression. She crossed her arms.

  "I'll bring an apple." The declaration was final, like a verdict. "And maybe some toast. If you behave."

  Before I could protest—not that I had the energy for it—she was already turning and walking toward the door.

  It's good she's okay... "Ikatu rehecha chéve?" — My fingers clenched tightly on the edge of the mattress.

  The door opened again before the silence could solidify completely. Katia returned, balancing a simple wooden plate. On it, two shiny red apples and a few slices of pale toast. She carefully placed the plate on the bedside table.

  "Thank you," I murmured, picking up one of the apples. It was firm and fresh. A pleasant contrast to the dust and dried blood that still seemed to cling to my memory. I placed the apple on my lap, looking at it. "And... what happened? On your side? After we... separated down there?"

  Katia settled back into the chair, her expression becoming more serious, more distant. She summarized the events with a military efficiency that was a bit surprising: the tactical retreat to the platform, the discovery of Lira's wind control, the plan to channel the monsters, Elian's stone wall, Hadrian's force barrier.

  She spoke clearly, but her eyes were fixed on her own hands, as if reliving every second.

  "That," the forgotten apple in my lap, "was completely reckless."

  Katia finally lifted her gaze. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. She just stared at me with an expression of absolute bewilderment, as if I had just recited a poem in an alien language.

  "Do you even know the meaning of the word 'reckless'?"

  My eyes drifted from Katia, fixing on the high window of the room. The sky outside was a uniform gray, without promises. The apple in my lap seemed to weigh a ton.

  "I'm not going to apologize," I said, my voice sounding firmer than I expected in the silence of the room. "And if it were necessary... I'd do the same thing."

  From my peripheral vision, I saw Katia close her eyes for a moment, a long, weary sigh escaping her lips. When she opened them again, the bewilderment had given way to deep resignation.

  "I know," she replied, her voice low but clear. "Mio, I know. If I were in your place, with the group cornered and that thing loose, I'd probably try something like that too."

  "But why did it have to be you?" Her voice was a thread of contained emotion. "You were the one who had to draw that thing away. You were the one who had to face it alone. You were the one who put yourself in the line of that last attack..."

  "It was the most logical decision." My gaze remained on the fallen apple in my lap.

  "And how did you know? How could you be so sure that was the 'most logical' decision?"

  The question hung in the air, sharp and inevitable. I knew it would come. I felt it forming ever since she started speaking. And the irony was that the very reason I knew this question was coming—that silent flow of possibilities, of cause and effect I saw unfolding seconds before it happened—was exactly the reason I couldn't answer it.

  I stayed silent. My gaze turned to the window, to the dark sky offering no answers. The apple in my lap was just a cold weight. Any word I tried to form seemed false.

  "I'm not trying to force you into anything," she said, looking at her own interlaced hands. "Neither to explain yourself, nor to promise it won't happen again."

  "What I need you to understand is this: regardless of everything, your actions are the reason we're sitting here discussing this. They are the reason Elian, Lira, Hadrian, all the others are alive."

  "Katia," my voice interrupted her. "You don't need to... try to justify it."

  "I know the things I do... the way I handle situations... can seem strange to others. And I understand what you're asking. Unlike everyone else, you were the first to approach me and not ask me to change. You didn't try to force me to be more 'normal.'"

  I let the words settle. The infirmary room seemed to have absorbed all the intensity of the conversation, leaving only a solemn weariness.

  "Honestly, I wouldn't want to extend this discussion any longer." My fingers curled around the apple under my lap, its smooth, cool skin. "All I have to do is thank you for having a friend like you."

  Katia was silent for a moment, her face a canvas of conflicting emotions. Then, she sighed—a long, deep sound that seemed to expel all the accumulated tension. When she raised her gaze again, her expression had changed. The seriousness and vulnerability gave way to something more familiar.

  "You really don't know how to read the mood, do you?" she said, shaking her head, but a slight smile touched her lips. "Or people. It's impressive. But you know what?" She leaned back, throwing her shoulders against the chair. "That's one of the parts I like most about you."

  It was then that Katia leaned forward again, her curiosity overcoming exhaustion.

  "Remember down there, in that square, before that thing appeared?" Her eyes shone with renewed interest. "I remember you wanted to show me something. A statue, you said. What was it? What had you found?"

  The initial tension dissolved, giving way to that easy flow of conversation we always had—the same stubborn curiosity that had united us, now transformed into shared words. It was a comforting, almost nostalgic moment. But within me, a dark counterpoint grew inside my mind, widening the invisible distance between me and the common world around me.

  “Che aikóma nde réra.” I tried to enjoy the conversation, praying the voices inside my head would fall silent.