Over the next few days, she returned to the bunker several times. Each time, the owner of the suitcase she opened would appear. The same pattern repeated itself, becoming a kind of ritual. She’d open a suitcase, a soul would appear, share their story, offer gold in exchange for a favor, and then she’d fulfill the request by sending the energy straight to Heaven, without really understanding how she did it.

  There was so much gold and so many antiques, all in such excellent condition, that after the first week of visiting the bunker, she already had enough money to live comfortably for years. But she kept going back. She couldn’t leave all those souls behind. After three weeks, she had to stop. She wasn’t strong enough. Her energy reserves had been completely drained. It made her feel awful. She wanted to keep going, but reason finally prevailed. After all, she had the rest of her life ahead of her.

  Helena and Walery had been opposed at first to the path Alice had chosen. They believed it was dangerous. Not just to her body, but to her soul as well. But that didn’t stop her from refining her techniques and offering help to those she believed needed special care. Gregory had supported her from the very beginning, often standing by her side throughout the process. To Alice, it all felt surreal. She had wasted two years studying something she had known deep down all along. All she really needed was to retrieve the right information from her own mind, and once she learned how to connect with her subconscious on a regular basis, it became almost childishly simple. Almost as simple as ignoring that constant sense of unease that followed her everywhere, never letting her truly relax.

  "Everything has its price," her subconscious had once told her. It had been right, but what exactly did it mean?

  There were no words to describe the pride and joy that flooded Alice’s body whenever she opened a channel straight to Heaven. It felt so magnificent! How could she even begin to see it as a threat? Contrary to the old couple’s fears, the spirits from the area didn’t come knocking at their doors. No demon had tried to possess her, and she hadn’t collapsed from exhaustion. Everything was working in her favor. The dark-haired man had vanished from their lives for good. Still, they remained cautious. After so many years, it was hard to shake the instinct to expect the worst from life. It wasn’t how they wanted to think, it was just stronger than them. But even they were swept up in the euphoria when Gregory reminded them of a promise Alice had once made:

  “She promised to set us free. I saw it myself, how she helps souls cross over. She’s strong. She can do this. She just needs a bit more practice.”

  And with those words, even two tired, weathered souls found a flicker of hope for a better fate.

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  While everyone focused on Alice’s accomplishments, no one noticed the changes happening within her. Day by day, she grew quieter, more mature. The childlike sparkle in her eyes faded, and with it, the trust in her heart faded too. They told themselves she was just growing up, but this wasn’t merely the usual coming-of-age transformation. It was something far deeper. The shift began with her thoughts. It was all in those innocent moments of forgetfulness, subtle reflections simply vanishing. Then came a small fracture in her soul, one that slowly widened. The crystal-clear surface of her ideals was laced with a web of doubt.

  Something was coming.

  The first signs were dismissed. The next came too late to act on. Alice had stopped fighting. The girl who once wanted to save the world was dying, taking her dreams with her. Not a day went by without her meeting with her subconscious. Not a day passed without thoughts of the dark-haired man. She still talked and laughed with the three spirits who looked after her, but it was all just a performance. She looked at them without seeing, spoke without wanting to share anything real. She had only one goal: to fool everyone. To spare them the worry. And to save herself from a thousand questions she had no desire to answer.

  During her grand march toward enlightenment, she had learned to pray every day. She would raise her voice fervently to God and the angels, meditating for hours as she tried to etch a vision of Heaven on Earth into her mind. Not so long ago… She missed the moment when God left her. She didn’t even try to recall when exactly she had stopped her long, tedious daily rituals. She hadn’t noticed when her prayers shifted from the vast Universe to a man with cold eyes. And now… she’d rather have him by her side than that distant God. Once, she even asked herself whether it was love, but she hadn’t dared to hear the answer.

  He should’ve been there. Listening. Supporting her. Not with warmth, not with tenderness. She didn’t expect those kinds of human impulses. She simply wanted him near. Had she already achieved what he had seen in her? Had she unlocked the potential he believed she carried? Each time a new question formed in her mind, her heart’s rhythm shifted, slowly but steadily, until it began playing a completely different melody for her life. She had no dreams. Not anymore.

  No worries, no fears, no desires visited her sleep. And it felt wrong, like some essential part of her identity had been stolen.

  Nights became a burdensome part of the day, and sleep was just a chore. She felt blind in a way only she could understand. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst was the sharp disappointment each morning when she awoke, realizing once again that her mind had failed to conjure his face. Had he changed at all? What power did he truly possess, if bending reality came to him so easily? Dear God, how much more could he have taught her? What an incredible opportunity she had lost.

  One morning, she awoke and looked out the window at the clear blue sky.

  She was sure of it now: something in her life had gone seriously off course. She got out of bed and walked to the vanity, gazing into the mirror. She looked normal. Healthy. Just like always. And yet… she didn’t recognize herself. Frozen in fear, she stared at the stranger in the glass. Who the hell was she?