The night was unnaturally still.
No wind, no insects—
not even the rustle of leaves.
Rhea had been standing near the barn longer than she realized.
She wasn't doing anything in particular,
just standing there,
her eyes returning to the wooden door again and again.
She should have gone inside.
She knew that.
But a vague feeling pulled her back,
as if something inside did not want to be seen yet.
She took one step forward...
then stopped.
The sound of hurried footsteps cut through her hesitation.
One of the guards, in a low voice:
"Rhea."
She turned instantly.
"The soldiers pursuing the sorcerer want to speak with you at the gate."
Rhea clenched her jaw.
She looked at the barn one last time,
then said—as if postponing something heavier than a simple visit:
"I'll come."
At the gate,
the soldiers were waiting for her.
Familiar faces,
eyes that did not sleep easily.
Their commander:
"You still haven't found him."
It wasn't a question.
Rhea:
"Not yet."
Commander:
"A sorcerer like him doesn't stay in one place for long...
especially when he's weakened."
Rhea slowly lifted her head.
Rhea:
"And my village is not a trap."
He fell silent for a moment, then said:
"If he remains here... he'll bring chaos."
She knew that.
That was exactly why she hadn't let them enter.
"Tomorrow,"
she said clearly.
"If we don't find him by dawn, I will ask for your help.
Until then... not a single step inside the village."
He looked at her for a long moment,
then stepped back.
Rhea returned,
but she did not go back to the barn.
The exhaustion was heavier than she could resist,
and the night felt longer than her strength to face it.
When she entered her house,
she didn't turn on the light right away.
She sat down,
resting her head in her hands.
Tomorrow, I'll check...
she told herself,
but the word brought her no comfort.
When she finally lay down,
sleep did not come quickly.
A small, lingering feeling pressed against her chest,
as if something had been left behind.
In that moment—
the sorcerer was inside the cave.
The darkness here was different.
Not emptiness,
but weight.
Iris stood before him,
still in a way that felt wrong.
He sat close to her,
his back resting against the cold stone.
He watched her for a long time.
She had changed.
Not much...
but enough to be frightening.
Her shadow moved even when she remained still.
And her eyes never settled on a single point.
He whispered, as if confessing to himself:
"I didn't know the curse would take form like this..."
He reached out,
then pulled his hand back
before touching her.
And suddenly—
the sound burst out.
Sharp.
Loud.
Wrong for such a small body.
Its echo tore through the cave,
followed by movement.
Iris began to move without direction,
crashing into the stone,
spinning,
releasing sounds that made no sense.
The sorcerer stepped back,
his breathing quickening.
If anyone hears her...
He raised his trembling hand.
His body felt heavy,
his bones aching as if reminding him of what he had lost.
He spoke the word in a hoarse voice,
as if it were torn from his chest:
"Sleep magic..."
There was no explosion.
No blinding light.
Only a cold dimming,
as if the air itself had grown tired.
His body trembled.
He dropped to one knee.
The sounds continued for a few moments...
then faded.
And Iris's body collapsed to the ground.
The silence that followed
was heavier than any scream.
The sorcerer remained where he was,
his chest rising and falling with difficulty.
In that moment,
he knew
he had nothing left to give.
Time passed with suffocating slowness.
When he opened his eyes,
he didn't know whether he had slept...
or lost consciousness.
Light seeped slowly into the cave.
And the first thing he saw—
Iris's face.
Close.
Too close.
She was standing in front of him,
looking directly at him.
Then—
she smiled.
A wrong smile.
Wide.
Empty.
As if it didn't belong to a living face.
Her eyes glowed with a harsh blue light,
and black energy rose from her body—
heavier than before,
more present.
He froze.
And when his eyes met hers—
the barrier collapsed.
The first vision:
Himself...
a distorted image...
his hand rising...
and a whisper drilling into his mind:
"Kill her..."
Suffocation.
A dark end.
Then the second vision:
Light flooding the cave...
Iris before him...
and Rhea at the entrance...
soldiers behind her...
no escape.
Exposure.
He staggered back, gasping,
as if the air itself was no longer enough.
He looked at her again.
She was still smiling.
And at last, he understood—
the curse hadn't merely transferred.
The possibilities... were watching him.