Days passed at the manor, one by one, heavy as lead. Three… five… ten… and on the morning of the thirteenth day, in the distance, a familiar silhouette finally appeared. Dressed in black from head to toe, walking hurriedly as if carrying the last hope, came Ioh, the hunter.
At the gate, Nira, watching for days like a living statue, stood with her soul caught between fear and hope. Her eyes widened suddenly when she saw him in the distance, and from her chest burst a cry that scattered over the dusty roads:
— "The book… did you recover it?"
Ioh came closer, his face stern, but in his gaze a glimmer of confidence could be seen:
— "I have the book! All that's left is to wake the boy from his stone sleep."
But before Nira could calm down, she asked, with deep, almost reproachful worry:
— "Why did you delay, Ioh? You said it would take five days to reach the church… and thirteen have passed until your return! You know time is our greatest enemy…"
Ioh's gaze darkened for a moment, and at the corner of his mouth bloomed a tired, almost bitter smile:
— "There were… complications. The road was harder than I thought. And… I met someone who stood in my way, and on the road my horse was killed. But the book is here."
A heavy sigh escaped Nira, as if she had let go of an unseen burden.
— "Thank Heaven you've returned… we still have a little time left…" she said, her voice trembling.
Without wasting another moment, they entered the manor, their steps echoing on the cold corridors. Ioh was the first to enter the room of the Grimm twins. The little ones, as if they had sensed him from afar, lit up and began to babble, reaching out their tiny hands to him. Without hesitation, the hunter deactivated the blue protective sphere and gathered them in his arms. Luc and Nicolai wrapped their arms around his neck, finding peace again in the embrace of the one they felt as a father.
With determined steps, Ioh then approached the globe floating in the middle of the room, shrouded in its mysterious mist. Beyond the violet swirls, Dacus slept, untouched by time. At the moment when Ioh took out the small book, the globe began to pulse, like a heart awakened from centuries of slumber. Nira stopped behind him, holding her breath.
They flipped through the old pages together: half were written, with spells and incantations anyone could understand; the other half, however, was covered in archaic and strange symbols, an unknown, ancient and odd language. Their eyes stopped on a spell encircled by someone's hand – perhaps recently, perhaps with an intention only time knows.
But something was missing. The crucial page had been torn out with such skill that only a fine break could be seen. Ioh understood quickly: only a thin silver wire could have cut such an old book without shredding it.
Nira felt the weight of the years overwhelm her. Tears filled her cheeks, and her voice became a string of sobs:
— "I will never wake him again… maybe that's how it had to be… for him to sleep forever, to never know this unjust world…"
Then, in Ioh's mind, living memories lined up like visions: the moments in the forgotten valley where he had found Luc and Nicolai abandoned, yet still protected. "No one leaves a child without a trace of hope… not even Get," he told himself silently.
— "Nira, are you sure Get didn't leave anything? A message, a clue… maybe even the missing page hidden somewhere?" — asked Ioh, his tone carrying the weight of a last chance.
The woman stopped. In her mind echoed Get's last words, those spoken with a hoarse voice before he left for King Vlah: "From now on you will be the guardian of this place. My boy must not be seen by foreign eyes." But there was something more… something she had almost forgotten. Before leaving, Get had left behind a short sword, wrapped in cloth, and a message tied with a red thread. Without ever telling her exactly what to do with them.
With trembling hands, Nira opened the old cupboard, took out the sword and the scroll, and handed them to Ioh.
— "This is what Get left me… I was supposed to give them to Dacus when he woke up…" she whispered.
Ioh looked at the sword: light, with a silver blade, seeming made more for a ritual than for combat. He reached for the message, but Nira stopped him for a moment:
— "They belong to Dacus… maybe we shouldn't…"
— "In them may lie the key we need!" — Ioh replied firmly.
After a few heavy moments of hesitation, Nira entrusted him with the scroll tied with red thread. Ioh slowly untied the thread, and from the sheet of parchment, a crumpled paper fell, perhaps hiding the last hope.
In the old room, among silent shadows, Ioh held in his hands a message that could change everything. The air seemed to stop for a moment, and in his gaze was read a single unspoken question: "What secret does this crumpled page hide… and why was it left to be found only now?"