Arenwald opened his eyes amidst the silence of the dark hospital room. At first, he saw nothing but the full moon, radiating its cold silver light through the window and casting glowing threads across the floor. He rose slowly from his bed, feeling a slight dizziness retreat before a strange, unfamiliar alertness coursing through his veins.
White bandages were wrapped tightly around his head, and he felt a heaviness in his feet. He made his way toward Ainliss's bed to check on his partner, who was still submerged in a deep sleep under the influence of sedatives, his face pale and bandages covering his back.
After ensuring he was stable, Arenwald stepped out into the long corridors. The lighting was yellow and irritating, coming from hot night lamps that revealed the chaos left behind by fear. Exhausted gendarmes were asleep in the corners of the hallways or on waiting chairs, oblivious to their duty.
Arenwald continued his quiet pace. In the next corridor, he crossed paths with the glass creature that had been haunting Ethan in his vision. Surprisingly, Arenwald did not see it; the investigator passed the spot as if the glass creature did not exist at all, continuing his walk with a strange focus.
At the end of the hallway, he found Ethan fast asleep, curled up on the cold floor. Arenwald said with a faint, gentle smile:
"Poor thing..."
He leaned toward him quietly, then began to shake him very gently, saying in a whisper so low it was barely audible:
"Ethan... Ethan... Ethan..."
Ethan opened his eyes slowly, signs of dizziness and fatigue evident on him. He said in a slurred voice:
"Mm... What do you want, Detective..."
Arenwald smiled and said kindly:
"Don't sleep on the floor; you'll get sick."
Ethan suddenly realized that Arenwald had woken up and stood up with a start:
"Detective Arenwald!"
Arenwald was startled by his sudden reaction and said:
"Lower your voice! You'll wake the guards."
Ethan nodded, and Arenwald continued:
"What's wrong with you, sleeping on the floor?"
Ethan said confusedly:
"I was so tired that I suddenly drifted off."
Arenwald sighed deeply, then spoke in a tone that brooked no argument:
"Fine, follow me."
"To where?" Ethan asked anxiously, noticing Arenwald's pale face and bandages. "Your condition isn't stable; you need to rest."
Arenwald said, putting on his coat which was hanging on a chair, his eyes gleaming with firmness:
"Don't worry. My body is fine now. Just follow me!"
They rose together and left the hospital. The city was silent, drowned in the blackness of late night. A cold gust of wind blew over them, scattering both Ethan's and Arenwald's hair, as if the night were welcoming a new awakening.
Arenwald began to walk with confident but slow steps, while Ethan tried to start a conversation with him. The city was silent, but the sound of Arenwald's confident boots broke the stillness. Ethan followed with hesitant steps, wrapped in a hidden anxiety.
Ethan said, surprised, trying to break the barrier of silence:
"You seem like the quiet type, Arenwald."
Arenwald smiled a faint smile, his eyes staring ahead:
"Yes, a little. Sometimes silence is more eloquent than words."
Ethan said suddenly:
"Arenwald, can I ask you a question?"
Arenwald replied with a playful sharpness:
"Not much time has passed, and you've already started calling me by my name without titles!"
Ethan placed his hand on his neck, then his eyes turned to the ground, and he said hesitantly:
"Oh, I didn't notice. Sorry, Detective."
Arenwald laughed a light laugh:
"I don't like anyone calling me Detective... and what was your question that couldn't wait?"
Ethan said, with a broken smile hiding a storm of doubts behind it:
"Fine, I will call you by your name." Then he asked with a tone of sincere wonder: "If we caught a random group of people, and you knew the killer was among them, would you recognize him?"
Arenwald said with eternal confidence, as if seeing what Ethan could not:
"Yes, quite easily."
Ethan felt astonished:
"Even if there were no physical evidence?"
Arenwald raised his head slightly, then spoke with a mysterious calmness that shook Ethan's core:
"Yes."
At that moment, Ethan's internal world trembled. A single word rang with terrifying sharpness in his ears, like a demonic whisper coming from the depths of his mind, or perhaps a projection of Arenwald's own anxiety: "Killer."
Ethan was shocked and felt dizzy from the impact of this imagined word. His steps stopped, and he said hesitantly:
"What did you say?"
Arenwald repeated his words, his eyes piercing through Ethan, noticing the tension beginning to weave its threads around the young man:
"Yes, I can recognize him."
Ethan took a long breath and raised his head to see the sky. Stars filled the space—blue and red stars burning with a majestic glow, forming a heavenly dome of extreme beauty.
Arenwald said:
"You haven't spent a month in this world; why do I see you afraid as if you've spent centuries here?"
Ethan spoke hesitantly, his gaze fixed on a distant star:
"I think this world is punishing me."
Arenwald laughed a wise laugh:
"Indeed, this world is a temporary hell, but it is necessary. But what is the reason for your punishment?"
Ethan lowered his head, staring at his feet:
"I didn't do anything... I think I just haven't gotten used to this world yet... Everything here is heavy."
Arenwald sighed and said quietly:
"Don't worry, Ethan... Every new step is heavy at first, but you won't walk alone. I am here to hold your hand and show you how to place your feet with confidence."
A slight smile formed on Ethan's face; Arenwald's words were like a small candle in a cold atmosphere, giving him a sense of warmth and safety, as if the world wanted to help him.
Arenwald noticed a faint blue tint on Ethan's lips, as if it were the result of an old addiction. He asked him directly:
"Boy, do you smoke?"
Ethan's eyes widened:
"Ho... How did you know?"
Arenwald placed his finger on his lips, signaling for silence: "Ever since I saw you, I noticed slight withdrawal symptoms. I prefer that you learn to read the living instead of reading the dead."
Ethan said, as the investigator's mystery grew in his eyes:
"You know a lot."
Arenwald scratched the back of his head, smiling:
"Honestly? I am ignorant of a lot, and that is what makes me search."
The two continued their conversation as they advanced into the heart of the city. Lumiron was silent and frightening under the cover of night. It was not just a city, but a maze of cold stone and thick shadow.
The old buildings of Baroque style lined both sides of the road, their windows dark and eyes closed, giving the feeling that every stone within them bore witness to stories and crimes yet to be told. Cold fog crept between the alleys of the cobblestone streets, wrapping around the yellow lampposts, making the lights look like isolated halos in a sea of blackness.
After a long walk through winding and dark paths, Arenwald finally stopped. He raised his hand toward the opposite building. It was an old house, its wooden windows painted a dark blue. On the faded tiles next to the brass door, a number was clearly carved, slightly covered in rust: "62".
Ethan asked with a tone full of confusion:
"Why did you stop? Is this your home?"
Arenwald settled for a silent nod and pulled a silver keychain from his pocket, which made a faint ringing sound before he opened the door. He stepped inside and took off his shoes at the threshold, and Ethan hurried to follow him quietly.
Arenwald turned to him, whispering in a warning tone:
"My daughter is sleeping... be completely quiet."
Ethan nodded, but soon a noise reached his ears from the upper floor. Then the sound moved to the stairs, and Loriana, Arenwald's daughter, appeared. She was a short girl, two years younger than Ethan, with jet-black hair, blue eyes, and white skin. She shouted loudly:
"Father!"
She rushed toward him crying, then threw herself into his arms with force, wiping her tears on his coat. Arenwald stroked her hair gently, saying:
"Loriana, I promised you before... I will not die."
She said firmly in front of Ethan's eyes:
"You must leave this work, you idiot..."
Arenwald laughed, then kissed her head and said:
"Don't worry, my daughter. By the way, this is Ethan."
Ethan waved his hand in greeting, but Loriana glanced at him with a sharp look and said:
"I saw him in the hospital, Father."
Arenwald pointed his finger and said:
"Alright, Ethan, the guest room is near the bathroom over there."
Ethan said quietly:
"Can I take a shower?"
The two laughed, then Arenwald said:
"Luckily for you, I have clothes that will fit you."
Ethan asked in surprise:
"So, can I shower?"
Arenwald replied with a smile:
"Of course...!"
Ethan moved to the bathroom. He began to take off his clothes, which were wet, dirty, and smelled bad, while his hair looked messy and scattered. He began to remove the bandages from his body, then froze in place for a moment. He ran his hand over his skin as if checking for something impossible... the wounds had evaporated, as if they had never existed, leaving only the scars that remain eternal with the body.
He began to stare into the mirror, turning so he could see the tattoo covering his back, saying quietly:
"I must understand the meaning of the tattoo!"
He turned on the hot water and began to bathe. The water was cold at first, immediately reminding him of that terrible day when everything happened. He began to analyze the thoughts attacking him: "I didn't kill him... I didn't even mean it, that wasn't my end for him, nor my intention."
He punched the wall and said in a loud voice:
"Son of a bitch... even after his death, he still haunts me."
The water grew hot, so he began to scrub his body and analyze everything that had transpired:
"This world is suffocating... everything in it destroys logic. Even that glass monster, was it real or an illusion created by my desire to understand?"
"Added to the creatures I saw... and even the people, their worn clothes suggest an ancient era, as if time has taken me back centuries."
The water flowed over his back like someone trying to erase what cannot be erased. Then he remembered faces:
"That nurse was mysterious, and I felt as if she knew me well. Even that old hag—oh! I forgot to ask Arenwald about her."
Then he returned to the greatest obsession:
"But what terrified me is the killer. Is he from my same world? Wait, are there multiple worlds?"
He pulled his hair back, then noticed that his hand was filled with strands of his hair:
"Damn it!"
He took a deep breath under the hot water, then muttered to himself:
"I need to relax..."
He scratched his head, then said with relief:
"How I love hot water. But even so, I miss the cold of Russia; the weather here is hot."
Ethan finished his shower and went directly into the adjoining room. It was tidy and elegant with a wide bed and white bedding. Beside it, he found a desk that was somewhat messy, as if someone had been there before him.
After he finished bathing, Ethan came out to feel an unfamiliar warmth. He noticed the clothes Arenwald had prepared for him; they were folded carefully on an old wooden chair. Ethan put on a dark red wool sweater and comfortable silk trousers that fit him perfectly. He began to feel the fabric of the trousers, his eyes reflecting a sense of warmth missing from his world:
"Comfortable..."
But suddenly, his eyes fell on an ancient, medium-sized wooden box under the wardrobe. The box looked as if it had been intentionally forgotten. Ethan went and knelt on his knees, then pulled it out slowly.
The box was not locked, which awakened Ethan's restless curiosity. He opened it carefully to reveal its contents. Inside were many old photographs, in addition to documents written in the Alitherian language—a language Ethan did not understand. But he picked out a strange name written in Gizakin characters, which he knew by chance.
Ethan read the letters in his mind, then gathered them in his head, and said in a faint, cold voice that shook the silence of the room:
"Morgast!"
"Isn't this the place the old woman, Eldwin, told me about?"
He began to see the pictures, which were in faded colors but carried true horror: burnt trees stretching their branches like ghosts, mutilated corpses lying everywhere, and misty entities the likes of which Ethan had never seen in his life. He felt horror and dread creeping inside him, confirming that this world held horrors deeper than mere crime.
But what truly shocked him was a group photo at the top of the box. In it was Arenwald, still in his twenties, with long hair and a wide smile splitting his face, wearing elegant clothes and holding a pistol in a somewhat funny pose. Beside him stood Ainliss, whose elven features hadn't changed much, carrying a shining sword and placing his hand on Arenwald's shoulder in a gesture of friendship.
But the amazing thing was the girl standing in the middle. She was exceptionally beautiful, standing beside Arenwald and holding him intimately. Ethan didn't notice the colors of the photo because it was in black and white, but he was enchanted by her stunning beauty and her radiant smile, her teeth shining like the moon in the darkness.
Ethan whispered to himself:
"She looks hauntingly like Loriana... is it possible that this girl is his wife?"
Ethan carefully returned the box to its place under the wardrobe. He turned off the light and let himself sink into thought, while questions about the beautiful woman hung in his mind like the seeds of a fate not yet grown.
—End—
Gizakin: A universal language spoken by more than 7 kingdoms.
Alitherian: A language spoken only by Elves; it is the language of the religious book Mari-ren Ezpainak.
Mari-ren Ezpainak (or Mariasbaniak): A book pertaining to the Alitherian religion.