The city around them began to piece itself back together. Like a puzzle returning to its box. Suddenly, they were standing in the garden full of sand in front of the villa, and in the distance, a white sea murmured. People began to emerge from the mist. The bushes detached themselves from Viktor and retreated back into the earth. There were thousands of them. Parents. Relatives. Neighbors.
They no longer smiled with that spasmodic sneer. Their faces were calm. They bore expressions of deep regret, humility, and gratitude. Ema saw the grandmother who used to secretly give her pocket money. She saw the clerk from the skate shop. She saw Lukáš, Marek, Jana... they stood there, whole, uninjured, looking at her with love. The small dachshund ran out of the crowd. He jumped into her arms, licking the tears from her face. Ema squeezed him, didn't want to let him go, but he gently wiggled free, barked a goodbye, and ran back to her parents. Everyone suddenly bowed deeply. People, dogs, cats, deer, even a flock of birds in the trees. Ema cried. This time, they weren't tears of madness burning her cheeks, but tears of pure, deep catharsis.
And then it began. Her father was the first to lift off the ground. He stood just a few meters from her. He stopped waving; his hands dropped to his sides. An expression of absolute peace settled on his face, one Ema hadn't seen even when he was alive. He closed his eyes, a gentle, reconciled smile playing on his lips. His feet lifted from the white sand. It looked as if someone had caught him by an invisible string in the middle of his chest and was gently but relentlessly pulling him belly-up toward that endless black sky. He didn't resist. He surrendered to the pull with complete trust.
Her mother followed right after him. She clasped her hands, tilted her head back, and let herself be carried away as if lying back into soft water. The small dachshund at Ema's feet exhaled contentedly for the last time, closed his eyes, and his paws lifted off the ground. He floated belly-up, his ears flapping in a non-existent wind, looking as if he were swimming through the air in the most comfortable dream.
The wave spread further. Lukáš, Marek, Jana were lifting off. Neighbors in the front rows and strangers in the back were rising. Thousands of bodies began to float like balloons released into freedom. No one opened their eyes. No one moved with fear. Everyone slept in that upward movement. Ema saw animals too. A short distance away, two small kittens rose into the air. As they lost gravity, they playfully rolled onto their backs in the air, batting their tiny paws at the void as if catching invisible butterflies, until they too calmed down and let themselves drift away.
They rose higher and higher, that entire army of souls, until they looked like distant stars on a black canvas. And up there, at the point where the glow of the beach met the darkness, they began to change. Their outlines lit up. It wasn't a blinding light; it was a warm, honey glow. One by one, they began to dissolve. Their bodies broke apart into millions of microscopic golden lights. It looked like fireworks that didn't bang but whispered. Golden dust, the essence of who they were, released into space. And then those lights began to fall down. They drifted onto Ema and Viktor like glittering, warm rain. They fell on Ema's skin, into her hair, warming her upon touch and instantly vanishing. It was like a last caress. A last goodbye.
Silence.
Ema opened her eyes. She was lying naked on wet grass in the meadow before the entrance to the forest, curled into a ball. It was morning. Sunrise colored the sky pink. Her body was covered in tiny cuts and bruises. Her head ached, but that crushing, insane pain was gone. She felt a strange lightness. The memory of those thousands of grateful faces warmed her heart.
She burst into tears. And with her, as if on command, the sky began to weep too. First one heavy drop that landed on her cheek and mixed with her tears. Then a second. And within a moment, there were thousands. Ema slowly, wearily raised her head to the clear sky. At first, the rain was refreshing. It washed the sweat, dust, and horror of the night off her. But after a while, the cold bit into her naked body. It was unpleasant, cold needles stabbing into her skin. She shivered. I wish it were at least a little warmer, flashed through her mind. It was just a quiet, desperate thought. And suddenly... she felt it happen. The water falling on her shoulders changed temperature. It was no longer icy; it was lukewarm, almost pleasant. It was just a slight difference, perhaps just a hallucination of an exhausted brain inventing warmth where there was none. But it was enough to confuse her. I wish it wouldn't rain at all, she thought, staring into the falling water. For a brief moment, for a fraction of a second, she felt physics bend around her. She saw the water avoiding her, creating an invisible bubble of dryness around her. But the feeling vanished immediately. The bubble burst, and the icy rain soaked her fully again.
Then the roar of engines sounded. A large number of black SUVs rushed onto the meadow. Their tires tore up the mud; headlights cut through the morning gloom. Ema's legs grew heavy. The world spun. She fell to her knees and then slumped limply into the wet grass. Her eyelids fell like lead gates. Just before darkness swallowed her, she saw car doors opening. She saw silhouettes of people in suits sprinting toward her.
The space around her dissolved into white nothingness. Then came darkness. Ema felt a massive rush of energy coursing through every cell of her body. She began to glow. It was pure, pulsating power, as if she had swallowed a star. Viktor's embrace loosened. He slowly let her go. His touch vanished, but the warmth remained. He looked at her. His face was calm, but there was something in his eyes she couldn't read. Sadness? Hope? He raised his hand and snapped his fingers. Click.
She woke up to soft warmth. She felt leather under her back; a soft blanket warmed her shoulders. The air smelled of expensive leather and subtle perfume. She carefully opened one eye to assess the situation without drawing attention to herself. She was in a car. A spacious, luxurious SUV. Blurred greenery rushed past the windows. A woman sat next to her.
Golden hair pulled back into a perfect bun, skin like porcelain, sharp features that seemed strict but beautiful. She wore a cream suit that cost more than Ema's entire life so far. The woman held a phone to her ear and was speaking. "Ja, Vater," she said in a quiet but firm voice. German. Ema had never learned the language; she had English in school. But now... the words floated into her ears, and her brain automatically translated them as if it were her mother tongue. "It is highly probable. I am waiting for final confirmation, but the energy signature is clear. The location is clean. There is no trace of the city or the inhabitants." The woman paused, listening to the voice on the other end. "Yes. I understand. One hundred percent. I am taking charge personally. I will not disappoint you, Father."
Ema opened her eyes fully and moved. The woman immediately ended the call and placed the phone on the seat. She turned to her. Her smile was warm, maternal, but there was cold calculation in her eyes. She touched Ema's forehead as if checking a child's temperature. Her hand was manicured, cool. "Welcome back," she said softly, this time in Czech. "I am Hanna. Rest some more if you like. You've had a hard night. You will learn everything when we arrive." "Ema," Ema whispered automatically. She sat up. Her head spun a little, but it was nothing compared to the migraine she had in the city. She looked out the window. They were driving in a convoy of three black SUVs. Escort vehicles drove in front and behind. She felt like she was in some Korean drama about kidnapped heiresses. "Did you find... did you find anyone else besides me?" she asked with hope in her voice. She was thinking of Viktor. Hanna raised an eyebrow. "Should we have?" It was a sincere question, but it sounded strange. Ema hesitated, then slowly shook her head. "No. I guess not." "We found no one else but you," Hanna confirmed gently.
The journey passed. They drove through the Sudeten landscape. Deep forests, hills, villages with houses stuck to the slopes. People at bus stops turned to look at their convoy. Who is that? Mafia? Government? Finally, they turned off the main road. They passed through a massive wrought-iron gate guarded by security. A chateau. It wasn't just a manor house. It was a real chateau, perched on a hill, surrounded by a carefully maintained park. The car stopped in a courtyard covered in white gravel. A butler opened the door. He was an older man, tall, thin, with sharply cut features and gray hair combed back. He wore a perfect suit. He bowed deeply to Hanna. "Welcome home, Lady Hanna," he said with a respect that belonged to nobility. Then he turned to Ema. He hesitated, not knowing how to address her. But he bowed anyway. "This is Ema," Hanna said, stepping out. "She is becoming part of the family. Address her as Lady Ema." The butler didn't even blink. "Certainly. Welcome, Lady Ema."
Ema climbed out of the car, still wrapped in the blanket. She felt out of place and dirty, but before her bare feet could touch the sharp white gravel, Heinrich knelt respectfully before her. With absolute, almost machine-like precision, he slipped a pair of soft satin slippers onto her feet.
It was a small, quiet act, but for Ema, it meant more than a thousand words. On one hand, it was incredibly comfortable; on the other, a chill ran through her—in this world, they might care for her like a queen, but they might never allow her to take a single step she hadn't had approved first.
"Heinrich, show the lady to her room," Hanna ordered. "I will see you at dinner." "Of course. Please, follow me," the butler gestured.
Ema followed him. She observed her surroundings. The walls were high; she saw men in dark clothing on the walkways. They had dogs—Dobermans patrolling silently. She didn't see weapons, but she felt the men were dangerous. "You have a hot bath and clean clothes prepared," Heinrich announced as they climbed the wide staircase. He led her to a room on the first floor. Ema exhaled in amazement. It was enormous. The room was larger than their entire apartment in Prague. In the center stood a massive four-poster bed. In the corner by the window was a freestanding claw-foot bathtub, a table with towels next to it. There was a couch, armchairs, a fireplace, and a French window leading to a balcony overlooking the park. "You have plenty of time," Heinrich said respectfully. "Rest." He bowed and quietly left.
Ema was alone. She threw off the blanket. She was naked. She walked to the large mirror in a gilded frame. Her body was a map. Bruises, scratches, dried blood. She gently touched her shoulder where she had a deep cut. She remembered Viktor. How he had held her. Where are you? She climbed into the tub. The water was just hot enough. The surface was covered with rose petals. It smelled divine. She submerged herself up to her chin. The warmth relaxed her muscles; the pain slowly drifted away. This is probably how princesses in fairy tales feel. But she wasn't a princess. She was a survivor.
She looked around the walls. Old oil paintings hung there. Knights in shining armor fighting a dragon breathing fire on a village. A giant octopus—a Kraken—pulling a sailing ship under the surface. A man standing on a cliff commanding a storm. It was fascinating and a little terrifying. She dipped her head under the water. Silence. Peace. She emerged, dried herself in a soft towel. On the bed lay a dress. Bright red, made of fine silk.
Someone knocked.