One day, the tension finally wore her down. It was a bright day, though the sky stayed a soft gray. Maybe it had drizzled that morning, but it wasn’t cold or gloomy. It was one of those days that asked for nothing in return. A day that simply drifted past—gentle, unburdened—and she appreciated that. She didn’t do anything special. Since it was that kind of day, she decided to nap in the afternoon. She lay down on the bed, left it unmade, didn’t bother with a blanket. She just wanted to close her eyes for a while, maybe longer. But she wasn’t even sure she’d fall asleep. She wasn’t forcing it. Not on a day as beautifully gray as this. And yet, she did fall asleep. Deeply. Unusually deeply for midday. The dream that came was vivid and bright. She knew it. She had dreamed it so many times before…

  She sees it again.

  It’s night, and the moon glows bright in the sky. Full moon. The stars around it seem pale compared to that great silver disc. It’s no coincidence the meeting takes place on a night like this. The sky itself is a sign. Tonight, she sees it too clearly. This time, everything is supposed to become clear, but now isn’t the moment to reflect. Just a few steps ahead of her, almost within arm’s reach, stand two figures. She’s seen them countless times, yet never their faces. But tonight is different. Her mind catches every detail. Everything is about to change.

  She walks forward, close enough to touch them, then stops and listens. The two tall figures remain silent, but not for long. Suddenly, the one closest to her sits heavily on a bench. A woman. Tall, with a hard gaze and an indifferent face. Alice knows, even though she sees her only from behind. She’s slender, but there’s something massive in her presence. She wears a knee-length coat, but even that can’t hide the muscles twitching under her skin. No, she isn’t bulky, doesn’t have a man’s frame. Her body wasn’t built for brute labor but for combat—for striking, blocking, dodging, dancing on the edge of life and death. That’s her path. Or rather, the path her teacher set before her.

  This is a crucial day. A decision must be made. And it’s clear this decision is final. They’re speaking in a park cut through by a slow-moving river. The second figure stares silently at the water. Her face is hidden beneath the hood of a long leather cloak sweeping the ground. In the moonlight, metal gleams on her boots, on the buckles at the tall shafts. How does Alice know that? It doesn’t matter. It’s a dream. Logic doesn’t apply. And yet, something feels different.

  The atmosphere shifts. As if in response, the second figure lights a cigarette. It suits her. It’s her symbol, like the scent of blood laced with incense. The woman on the bench also reaches for a pack hidden in her coat’s inner pocket. Yes, she’s a heavy smoker too. But the thought lingers—can you even call someone a smoker if they’re incapable of addiction?

  They’re about to speak. Just one more moment, and everything will be revealed. The brown-haired woman sighs, lowers her head, closes her eyes. The other lets out a quiet laugh, joyless. With a kind of reverence, she lifts a leather-gloved hand to her hood and pushes it back. Moonlight spills over black hair streaming down her back. Her face remains half-shadowed, but her voice—smooth, melodic—asks:

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  “I came to make sure you’ve made your choice. That you don’t want to turn back.”

  “The choice is made,” the other answers. “I knew from the beginning what I was agreeing to.”

  A silence falls, heavier than a thousand words. Not gratitude. Not relief. Averted threat, and something else Alice can’t name. Without thinking, she steps closer, circles them, finally sees their faces. What she sees freezes her blood. The woman on the bench, the shorter one, is finishing her cigarette and watching her companion. That face, that posture, those eyes! Alice knows her too well. She’s seen her so many times. But she doesn’t want to believe. She shifts her gaze to the black-haired woman. Her steel-gray eyes seem to see Alice, pierce her, read her like an open book. Impossible. This is her memory, her dream, her own creation. She hasn’t slipped into another world. It’s all inside her. And yet, she feels exposed. Stripped bare. The world spins. Because all of this…

  “This isn’t right,” she whispers, stepping back.

  She wants to scream, howl, tear her hair. A thousand thoughts flood her mind. Her heart pounds. Her stomach knots. The wall breaks, and the flood of knowing crashes down. She’s drowning in madness. God help her, she thinks of it as salvation.

  Gregory kicked down the door. It took more effort than he expected, he had to summon all his strength, pour out every drop of energy. And yet… he knew the door hadn’t been locked. Not with a key. Valery and Helena stood frozen, terror-stricken, unsure what to do. The scream coming from the room filled their skulls and chilled their hearts. It wasn’t the cry of someone waking from a nightmare. It was worse. Far worse. The sound of damned souls wailing. And what blocked the door wasn’t wood but a wave of immense, unrelenting energy.

  The door splintered to pieces. They rushed inside, and stopped cold. Alice was screaming, clutching her head, tears streaming down her face, and yet… she was still asleep. They knew that. They just knew.

  Helena was the first to try to reach her, to wake the girl, to calm her. But around Alice spun a violent vortex of raw life-force, cocooning her body. Helena tried to break through, but the power hurled her across the room. Then Valery tried, but he couldn’t get through either. So Gregory began pushing from the other side. The scream climbed higher, sharper, more terrifying with every second. They managed to get close—so close, millimeters from her—yet still couldn’t touch her. Victory was right there, within reach, and yet utterly unreachable. Their bodies trembled. The pain in every bone grew sharper, second by second. Just a little longer, and their fragile shells would shatter.

  What now?

  Silence. No, not silence. The scream was still there, but different now, muffled. They understood: the sound had grown too sharp, too wild, so piercing it split the very layers of this world. Alice was screaming across dimensions at once. The nightmare escalated too quickly to stop. It overwhelmed them. The vortex around her spun faster, ripping the room apart, battering them, driving them back. Her scream was no longer human. Not even they, who had lingered in limbo for years, could comprehend it.

  Helpless, they could only watch the catastrophe unfold. No, not watch—endure. Hope bled out of them in seconds. And when it left, reality behind Alice tore open. Two hands reached through the rift and pulled her into the void. It all happened in seconds. Too fast to understand. But they knew who had done it.

  He never left her.