"Shhh..."
He whispered as he approached Tharos, his eyes narrowing bit by bit, as if trying to bury his fear beneath a layer of anxious silence.
The footsteps above them were light, not like those of an animal or ordinary human, but something closer to a whisper threading through the wooden ceiling, creeping slowly as if searching for something specific... or someone.
Grivenar leaned beside Tharos, bringing his lips close to his ear and whispering in a voice barely audible:
"Can you hear it?"
Tharos nodded.
Then Grivenar whispered again:
"Then it's not just my imagination."
Grivenar drew even closer, crouching beside him as though his words were a secret not meant for anyone else to hear, and he whispered:
"It's a girl... or was. I don't know. She comes every time sunrise approaches. I always thought I'd lost my mind, because the same scene keeps repeating. Same time, same footsteps, and the same words. She always says..."
But he was cut off again.
That ancient voice returned, slipping between the thick ceiling boards. It wasn't clear, but if you listened closely, you could distinguish a few words — ones that seemed to be dying in her mouth:
"Bro...ther... whe...re... are... you..."
The voice suddenly fell silent. A heavy stillness settled in, as if even the air had stopped moving. Then the footsteps resumed, this time slowly retreating.
Grivenar didn't move, his eyes fixed on the ceiling until the sound vanished. He then turned to Tharos, his face still in shadow, but his eyes held the glint of something old — something not easily spoken.
He said in a hushed voice:
"That's what I meant... she comes every night and says the same sentence. At first... I believed her. I thought she was a girl lost from her brother. I went out once to help her... but..."
He hesitated, as if tasting a memory that had turned to ash.
"...when I tried to light the candles and open the exit, her voice began to change. It was no longer the voice of a girl... but something else. Like a broken scream, a mix of chirping insects and a human dying. It was terrifying... I felt something inside me crumble."
He took a breath and said with certainty:
"Only then did I realize — this isn't a human. And since she comes back every night at the same time... I understood she's not lost, she's waiting for me."
Grivenar stood up again, his steps calm but carrying a certain weight, as if he bore more than just his body. He walked toward the extinguished candles and relit them one by one, letting the faint light creep back into the place, pushing away some of the oppressive darkness… but he didn't light the hearth this time — perhaps out of respect for the night that had just been broken.
He approached Tharos and sat beside him gently, as if not to disturb his peace, then said in a soft, reassuring voice:
"Since she's gone now, it means the sun is rising..."
His voice carried a kind of comfort, as if he trusted this light the way one trusts life.
"...I just wanted to tell you… I have to go out, I'll look for extra food, maybe some water too, I don't know what I'll find..."
He paused for a few seconds, looking at Tharos, watching only his eyes — as if reading him from within.
"And in the meantime… you sleep. You need rest now. Your body is exhausted. And maybe… when you wake up, you'll be able to move the rest of your limbs."
He placed his hand gently on Tharos' shoulder — a fleeting touch, but one that held more than words — then rose again and headed toward the exit.
Grivenar climbed quietly, using his fists and feet like someone familiar with the narrow path. He scaled the stone wall next to the small opening near the ceiling — one just barely wide enough for a body. He crouched and disappeared into it, as silently as if he had never been there.
Only moments later, a faint thud was heard... followed by the sound of footsteps on the roof — steady, but light. Then… three short knocks on the ceiling — as if it were a code between him and the one left behind, a small signal that he was leaving.
Everything quieted after that.
His footsteps slowly faded away… until they vanished completely.
And silence filled the space again — though it was not the same heavy silence as before. It was a silence that gave Tharos a chance to sleep… or to think.
Tharos looked at the candles with dark, pitch-black eyes — as if the light belonged to something far beyond him.
And in a strange flash… there were no walls around him, no Grivenar, no ceiling with three knocks.
He was walking.
But not on ground.
There was nothing beneath him but a bottomless blackness… pure darkness, like a void he was walking across, his head lowered, his steps making no sound.
A familiar voice slipped through — one he hadn't heard in a long time… Vilmer's voice.
"What are you thinking about?"
Tharos replied, his whisper barely audible:
"Nothing… I just had this strange feeling, like a dream… A masked man… at first he was carrying me… then the scene changed, and I found myself in a dark room… but, for some reason I don't understand, I could see everything in the dark."
The space stood still. No wall to echo back, no ground to return the sound.
Then Vilmer's voice came again — with a tone that carried both a question and something else unnamed:
"Ah… a dream then… And do you know? Did he tell you anything? His name, maybe? Or… anything?"
Tharos responded, staring into the void like he was trying to collect the scattered ends of a distant dream:
"I think he told me his name was Grivenar at first... but later, he said that wasn't his real name. His real name was… Lucas Morcosti, I think."
He paused for a second, then added in a soft voice, as if recalling a warm moment in bitter cold:
"And I also remember… he gave me two things to choose from."
At that, Vilmer's eye widened — as if something inside him trembled — and he asked quickly:
"So… what did you choose?"
Tharos didn't answer immediately, but a true smile crept onto his face — the first in a long time — and he said:
"I chose… the honey."
Silence followed. No one said anything. Even Vilmer fell quiet, as if something about the answer didn't sit well with him. It was clear in that lone eye… which became more motionless than usual.
Tharos continued walking, his steps slow, their echo lost in the void.
After a time he couldn't measure — as if time itself had lost shape — he asked softly:
"Vilmer… what do you think of Grivenar? Should I trust him?"
The reply came with no anger, but a hint of disdain crept in, despite the calm tone:
"Should you? We're stuck here, that's what matters. I don't think we should waste time on this kind of talk. Keep walking. We need to get out."
Tharos paused for a moment. He hadn't expected that answer… not from him.
It was like a slap — but without a sound.
Disappointment crept into him, cold and sharp, slipping between his ribs like frost, crashing down on him from every side.
As if his words were worth nothing.
Tharos had grown used to Vilmer's harshness — he even knew his silences better than his speech. But this time… he couldn't hold back the feeling.
Something inside him was hurt, something that stayed silent and didn't reply.
Then he whispered weakly:
"Alright…"
After a while, two chairs appeared from the void ahead. Vilmer and Tharos looked at them.
Vilmer spoke with a tone of anger:
"We're back again... ahhhhhh..."
Tharos grew anxious and tried to calm him quickly:
"Calm down, Vilmer… we don't want to wake them."
Vilmer said:
"Ahh... fine... keep walking. I don't want to see them again."
Tharos was about to continue walking, but he noticed the chairs had vanished.
Suddenly, fear showed on his face, and he screamed as he tried to escape from something:
"No... no... don't come near... don't touch us..."
Something rose from beneath his feet — like hands trying to pull him down.
He fought them, screaming at the top of his lungs, while Vilmer remained silent… as if surrendering to reality — unlike Tharos, who resisted in panic.
A voice came from nowhere… someone calling:
"Hey… you… wake up… I'm back…"
Tharos opened his eyes slowly.
The light was dim, the air still.
There were no chairs, no pulling hands… just Grivenar's face covered with a scarf, and those glowing blue eyes.
He looked around. He wasn't sure… but it seemed like everything had been… just a dream.
Or so he thought.