Thana walked with measured steps, his sharp, bright red shoes striking the cobblestones with a hypnotic regularity. With each movement, the multicolored diamonds of his outfit seemed to catch the light, scattering in shifting bursts like a flame in the wind. Ahead of him, the road remained deserted, but around him, in the sun-drenched fields, silhouettes froze, held captive by silent curiosity.

A man, leaning against a rickety cart, halted his motion, his fingers clutching the rough wood, his gaze fixed on the radiant singularity passing before him. Further along, a woman in a crimson- stained apron paused mid-motion, a cluster of grapes still hanging between her fingers, her breath held as if she feared breaking the silence of the moment. Even a child, crouched at the edge of the road, dropped his stones abruptly, the pebbles tumbling to the ground as his widened eyes followed the advancing figure.

Thana did not avert his gaze. He continued on his path, impervious to the suspended stares, indifferent to the hushed murmurs that barely bloomed before fading.

Nothing in his stride, however, betrayed the slightest interest in his surroundings. He walked, calm and unyielding, as though the road itself existed solely to unfold beneath his steps.

Further ahead, within a perfectly aligned row of meticulously tended vines, a young boy was working with an almost choreographic precision. His hands moved deftly among the vines, pruning and adjusting with the ease of a master despite his youth. Intrigued by the scene, Thana halted his march and approached, his shadow stretching to the boy's feet.

—"I’m looking for a place to quench my thirst," he said.

The child looked up, initially frozen by the strangeness of the man before him. His gaze slowly drifted down to the red shoes, climbed back up to the colorful attire, and finally settled on Thana’s impassive face. Surprise, mingled with caution, flashed briefly in his eyes before polite reflex took over. He extended his water bottle, almost mechanically.

Thana grabbed it and drank eagerly. The fresh droplets slid down his throat, tracing invisible shivers across his skin. When he was finished, he handed the empty bottle back to the boy, a fleeting smile lighting up his features.

—"Is your master here?" he asked.

The boy nodded, pointing to a towering figure on the horizon. The manor, draped in climbing vines and haloed by sunlight glinting off its windows, dominated the landscape. Thana fixed his gaze on the building, an unreadable glimmer passing through his eyes.

—"Take me to him," he added.

Intrigued by the request and the strange demeanor of his companion, the boy dashed off, his slender legs bounding between the rows of vines with youthful energy. Thana watched him, his face expressionless, before turning his attention to the clusters of grapes hanging around him. With a nonchalant gesture, he plucked one, brought it to his lips, and bit into a grape. The exquisite sweetness burst on his palate, but the pleasure was fleeting, quickly overtaken by the cold determination etched into his gaze.

The wait stretched out like a taut string, each moment adding weight to the atmosphere. Finally, figures emerged from the fading light. Slowly, with an almost ceremonial gravity, a group of men approached, their heavy steps pounding the earth. Three hulking figures draped in dark coats flanked an old man in the center. His measured gait radiated crushing authority. The weathered face of the man, carved by years and struggles, resembled a mask of stone. His piercing, icy eyes locked onto Thana's.

—"Are you looking for me?" the old man called out, his thunderous voice shattering the stillness. Thana lifted his gaze.

—"I’m looking for a friend," he replied.

The old man didn’t answer immediately. His features stiffened, his expression closing like a door. Then his eyes, hard as shards of steel, scrutinized Thana.

—"A fiery woman," Thana clarified.

The master of the estate’s face grew even tenser, his features taking on a deathlike rigidity. He raised his hand in a slow gesture. The air around him contracted, an invisible ripple undulating through the space. Then, without a sound, a black portal appeared at his side. Its edges shimmered with a darkness so profound it seemed to devour the surrounding light.

—"I must find her."

The old man remained motionless for a moment, his eyes narrowed into icy slits. Then, without a word, he stepped through the portal’s threshold, his companions close behind. Their silhouettes disappeared into the shadow, swallowed by the darkness. And suddenly, Thana was alone on the deserted road, bathed in the hesitant, fading light of the day.

Thana did not stay still for long. All around him, the air seemed to thicken, vibrating with an energy that defied the natural. A chill coursed through his body, but it wasn’t merely internal— the very atmosphere seemed to share in it. The shadows of the trees, previously still, began to quiver and then undulate as though caught in an invisible wind. They stretched and contorted, slowly taking on grotesque, humanlike shapes. Tormented faces emerged from the dark outlines, their mouths open in silent screams. Hollow sockets fixed their gaze on Thana.

It was then that his own body began to unravel. His skin stretched and split with a sharp crack, releasing a torrent of flesh and bone. His eye sockets sank into his skull like two bottomless pits, and his jaws shattered, scattering fragments into the heavy air. His entire head imploded in a grotesque burst, its pieces flying apart in a chaotic explosion. The shadows, echoing this destruction, wavered and trembled violently.

Reality wavered. The colors of the world inverted suddenly: the lush greens of the trees turned spectral white, the sky became an inky black, and the blood spilled from Thana shimmered like liquid silver. A low rumble resonated through the ground.

Then, everything froze. The fragments of Thana began to converge. They slid toward one another with an inhuman fluidity. Each piece found its place.

The screaming faces in the shadows slowly faded, their forms dissolving into the outlines of the trees, but their expressions of terror remained etched in the air.

When his face was fully reformed, Thana lifted his head. Not a single scar remained, but his gaze had changed. His pupils, a deep black, now glowed with a cosmic light. Entire galaxies danced within them, dying stars, consumed worlds. A chilling aura emanated from him, and even the wind seemed to halt, restrained by an instinctive fear.

Thana continued his march. Each step seemed to bring him closer to an invisible boundary, a threshold between the tangible world and a reality he could not yet grasp. When he finally reached the banks of a river, the landscape before him seemed unreal. The black water, disturbingly still, did not reflect the starry sky; it seemed to devour it, each glimmering star disappearing into its unfathomable depths.

Then came the voice. Soft and melodic. It emerged from the night like an ancient whisper, resonating in the air, in the water, in the trees themselves.

Thana stopped, frozen by the vision before him. On the river, a figure appeared, floating above the water like an ethereal mirage. A woman. No, something far greater, far older. An entity. She moved with supernatural grace, her feet barely grazing the smooth, still surface of the water, without disturbing its tranquility.

Around her, her black hair danced in the air, alive, as if animated by its own will. It stretched into infinite undulations, rising and falling, blending with the wind, but that was not all. As it extended, it seemed to consume space, reaching beyond the river to embrace the entire land. Wherever it passed, light vanished, and the world disappeared.

Thana stepped forward, but each step was heavier than the last, as if the very ground resisted him. The air around him vibrated. When he finally spoke, his voice broke the oppressive silence. —"Mother, may I assist you?"

The woman stopped. Slowly, she turned her head toward him. And the water beneath her feet, until then motionless, began to ripple. Her gaze fell upon him, and Thana felt his breath catch. It was not a human gaze: within her pupils, he saw entire worlds being born and collapsing, cosmic currents swirling, fragments of reality tearing apart and vanishing.

—"I did not grant you permission to intervene," she said.

He remained silent for a moment, swallowing the bitterness rising in his throat. Then he smiled, a bitter, tight smile, before letting out a short, almost mocking laugh.

—"A human dares to defy his fate, and I should remain indifferent?"

Nyx turned her gaze away, without so much as a sigh, toward the starry sky. But as her eyes left Thana, an invisible wave rippled outward. The river trembled, and suddenly, the water rose in chaotic motion. Waves surged around her. A low rumble rose from the ground, and a fissure appeared on the riverbank, snaking beneath Thana's feet.

Without paying attention to these disturbances, Nyx resumed her walk. Her hair, like living shadows, extended in all directions. The trees, unable to resist their grasp, snapped with ominous cracks, their branches falling into the darkness. Rocks vanished, swallowed by the shifting blackness, and even the moonlight faded.

—"We are not to meddle in the affairs of mortals," she finally declared.

Thana stood motionless. Nyx's figure was slowly disappearing, but her aura lingered. A sense of emptiness, of absolute silence, seeped into the air. Yet something still burned within him. An

obsessive fascination for this entity that transcended everything he could comprehend. And yet, beneath that fascination, a dull frustration was rising.

He lifted his eyes to the sky, now void of light. The night had thickened, tangible, clinging, like a veil of shadow wrapping around everything.

*****

Thana finally reached the capital. It loomed before him, perched atop an imposing mountain. The

peaceful villages and rolling hills he had passed now seemed like relics of another time. Here, stone reigned supreme. The towering walls, carved from the very rock of the mountain, seemed to absorb the light. The crenelated towers, bristling with gleaming spears and flags whipping in the wind, rose like sharp fangs, challenging the sky.

From the valley below, the winding path leading to the city snaked through steep slopes, lined with rocks and roots that seemed eager to trap unwary travelers.

When he finally reached the monumental gates, he was greeted by motionless guards, frozen like statues, their silhouettes almost blending into the dark stone of the walls.

Their gazes, sharp as blades, pierced the passersby, scrutinizing every movement with relentless precision. As Thana approached, the group stirred. Three guards stepped into his path, their silhouettes stark against the imposing shadow of the walls.

—"Halt!" barked the first. "State your name and your purpose."

Thana slowed, his steps halting a few meters from the guards. He raised his eyes to them, his gaze cold and inscrutable as it settled on the one who had spoken.

—"Mardeh," he replied.

—"'Mardeh'? That’s it?" hissed the second guard, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "That’s not a name."

A faint smile flickered across Thana’s lips, a smile devoid of warmth.

The first guard frowned, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his sword.

—"Remove your cloak," he ordered. "And be clearer about your business."

Slowly, Thana unbuttoned his cloak and let it slide from his shoulders. The sword hanging at his belt, with its hilt engraved with intricate patterns, immediately drew their attention.

—"Nice weapon," murmured the third guard as he stepped closer, his eyes fixed on the blade. —"Who gave it to you?"

Thana didn’t answer. He inclined his head slightly.

"Well, stranger?" pressed the first guard. "Speak, or you’ll go no further."

Thana lowered his gaze to the cobblestones before him, as if absorbed by an invisible thought. When he raised his head, his expression had changed, his eyes ignited with something elusive—a frozen flame burning within.

"Gatekeepers... You’re so fascinating," he murmured, almost to himself. "Always so convinced of your own importance, and yet... so fragile."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances, disturbed by the strangeness of his words. The second guard gripped the hilt of his weapon tightly and stepped forward.

"Fragile?" growled one of the guards.

But before he could go further—

A sharp, brutal sound shattered the air, like a thunderclap. The first guard’s skull exploded, a burst of blood spraying in all directions, spattering the walls and cobblestones. Fragments of bone and flesh flew, hanging briefly in the air before falling heavily to the ground.

The two remaining guards, frozen in stupefaction, didn’t even have time to react. An invisible, relentless force struck them down. Their heads split open with a sickening crack, like overripe fruit. Their bodies collapsed almost in slow motion, lifeless, disjointed like puppets with severed strings. The metallic clatter of their weapons echoed across the cobblestones.

Thana remained motionless. Not a single muscle in his face twitched. His icy, unfathomable eyes swept over the bodies at his feet, as if assessing a flawed work of art. No flicker of satisfaction, no hint of regret crossed his gaze. He stood there, distant and unshaken, like a detached spectator. He bent down to pick up his cloak. A droplet of blood, clinging to the hem, slid down the fabric before being wiped away with a single motion. He draped it back over his shoulders.

His footsteps, steady and resonant, broke the silence that had fallen like a shroud over the site of the carnage. Behind him, the bodies lay still, frozen in their brutal deaths. The blood-soaked cobblestones gleamed faintly under the wavering light.

And in that oppressive silence, his final words lingered, etched into the ether like an eternal condemnation:

—“You are so fragile.”

Beyond the walls, the capital sprawled in all its chaotic frenzy, clinging to the steep slopes of the mountain like an animal clutching rock to avoid a fall. Its narrow, winding streets, resembling tangled veins, formed a labyrinth brimming with life. The cries of merchants rose in an incessant din, their raspy voices competing to catch the attention of passersby.

The buildings, made of raw stone and dark wood, stood in an almost haphazard disorder. Some seemed to defy gravity, embedded directly into the steep mountain slopes, while others leaned precariously, as if ready to collapse under their own weight. Their pointed roofs, crowded together, created an uneven mosaic—a sea of gray and black slates.

Thana moved forward. The commotion slid off him without leaving a mark, as though an invisible aura repelled the chaos. His steps were precise, steady, and his stride seemed unnaturally fluid amidst the stumbling crowd. Nothing could disturb his determination.

His path eventually led him to a narrow, shadowy alley, barely illuminated by the hesitant light of a flickering lantern. There, nestled between two crumbling buildings, was a tavern.

The wind-beaten sign creaked like a dismal whisper, and the grimy windows emitted a dim, yellowish light, overshadowed by the shadows dancing within.

Thana pushed the door open, and a harsh creak rang out. Conversations gradually died down, as though the air itself absorbed the words. Glances briefly turned toward him, but most patrons quickly averted their eyes.

The atmosphere shifted around him. The air grew heavier, almost tangible, and the light from the lanterns dimmed.

He stopped in front of the counter. The corpulent man behind the bar raised weary eyes to him, his gaze briefly settling on the visitor before returning to his glass, which he wiped with a mechanical motion. Yet, he could not ignore the overwhelming aura emanating from Thana, and his movements grew hesitant.

—"I’m looking for a woman who controls flames," said Thana.

The bartender froze, his face locked in an expression of hesitation. Slowly, he glanced around, ensuring no one was listening, before turning his attention back to Thana.

—"Maybe I know something... or maybe I don’t," he replied, his lips curling into a nervous smile. —"What do you want?" Thana retorted.

—"Money," answered the bartender.

The air around them suddenly vibrated, like an invisible shiver rippling through the room. The bottles on the shelves clinked, and the lanterns flickered. Thana raised his hand, and under the terrified gazes of the patrons, it began to grow. His fingers elongated, twisting into monstrous claws, while his palm expanded, grotesquely oversized.

The bartender, paralyzed with fear, opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. The gigantic hand descended upon him, gripping him like a rag doll. The fingers, black and veined with a reddish glow, coiled around his body, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

In a dark corner of the tavern, an old man, wrapped in a tattered cloak, watched the scene without blinking. Unlike the other patrons, who cowered or tried to flee, he showed no fear. His dull eyes fixed on Thana with a strange intensity, as if he recognized in him a power he had faced —or revered—before. His lips moved softly, murmuring words in an ancient, guttural language. As Thana’s monstrous hand tightened its grip around the bartender, the old man tilted his head slightly.

— "If you value your life, tell me what you know," Thana commanded. His voice resonated in the tavern, cold and inhuman, freezing the air.

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The old man stopped murmuring for a moment, his fingers tightening around the table in front of him. A single word escaped his lips:

— "An’kara."

The bartender, meanwhile, thrashed helplessly, his legs flailing frantically in the air. His face, distorted by fear, was drenched in sweat, and his voice cracked as he screamed:

— "Yes! Yes!" he finally cried, his voice breaking with panic. "She’s part of the royal guard! You’ll find her in the castle—please, spare me!"

A heavy silence fell. The patrons, frozen in mute horror, stared at Thana, unable to look away from the nightmarish scene.

Thana studied the bartender for a moment, as if weighing the value of his words. Then, slowly, inexorably, he closed his hand.

The sound that followed was dull. The bartender’s body burst with a wet crack, spraying blood, flesh, and bone across the walls and counter. Fragments rained onto the floor with splatters.

The silence lasted only a moment. Screams erupted almost simultaneously. Patrons bolted toward the exit, overturning tables in their frantic escape, while others, paralyzed with terror, huddled under chairs, their silent prayers lost in the heavy air.

Amid the chaos, the old man remained still. Slowly, he rose, his eyes still fixed on Thana.

— "An’kara... You still walk among us," he murmured.

Thana, indifferent to his words and to the carnage he left behind, picked up his cloak, carefully shaking off a drop of blood before draping it over his shoulders. As he stepped through the door, a cold draft swept through the room, momentarily extinguishing the lanterns. But as the light timidly returned, something else stirred.

The blood-stained floor, littered with debris, began to tremble. At first, it was just a faint quiver, but it grew stronger, becoming a low rumble that seemed to rise from the very bowels of the earth. The remaining patrons froze, their eyes wide with unspeakable horror.

A thin, winding crack appeared at the center of the room, widening like a gaping wound on the blood-stained floor. A strange, hot, and fetid breath wafted from it, accompanied by a guttural gurgling. Then, with a terrifying crack, a monstrous mouth emerged.

It was grotesque and enormous, lined with uneven fangs that gleamed like obsidian blades under the flickering light. A viscous tongue, as thick as a tree trunk, slithered out of the maw, leaving behind a black, sticky trail. The creature’s lips, rough and cracked, contracted in a slow, unbearable motion, exhaling a stench so vile it caused some of the survivors to stagger.

The screams doubled in intensity. A woman tried to run for the door, but the tongue shot out, swift as a whip, wrapping around her waist and yanking her violently into the gaping mouth. Her scream was abruptly silenced with the sound of jaws snapping shut.

— "No... no... mercy!" cried a man, desperately clinging to a table. But the insatiable mouth widened further, consuming everything in its path. Chairs, tables, and even the bodies of the patrons were swallowed one by one, disappearing into the abyss with grotesque sucking noises. In a corner, the old man remained motionless. His eyes, fixed on the creature, were filled with an odd sense of understanding. He spread his arms, as if to embrace his fate, and murmured one last time:

— "An’kara... Your judgment is perfect."

The tongue struck him with blinding speed, pulling him into the maw, which snapped shut with a final, resounding clap.

Outside, Thana was already walking into the night. Silence fell behind him, heavy and absolute, as if the tavern had never existed.

*****

The castle loomed before Thana, imposing and austere, its sharp towers slicing through the sky

like claws of stone.

The main gate, massive and bristling with rusted iron fittings, stood like a dark maw ready to devour any intruder. Before it, four guards kept watch, their armor glinting in the pale light.

The four guards turned toward him. Their sharp gazes assessed the stranger with suspicion, and one of them, taller than the others, stepped forward to block his path.

— "Are you lost, stranger?" he called.

Thana did not respond immediately. His calm but piercing eyes slid from the guard to the gate, as if these men were not even worthy of his attention.

— "My name is Mardeh."

The guard frowned, crossing his arms over his breastplate.

— "And what do you want here, Thana? Strangers don’t pass through these gates without good reason."

— "I’m looking for a woman who controls fire," Thana replied.

The guards exchanged furtive glances.

— "We don’t answer to you," retorted a second guard, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. "You have no business here. Turn back to where you came from."

Thana allowed a faint, imperceptible smile to cross his face and stepped forward.

— "Stop immediately!" growled the third guard.

But Thana did not stop.

— "I don’t need your permission."

The guards, enraged by his arrogance, drew their swords.

— "You’ll go no further," one guard threatened.

Thana continued forward, his gaze fixed on the gates, as if no obstacle—neither man nor steel— could stand between him and his goal.

The first guard, unable to contain his rage any longer, leapt forward, his sword raised high. With a guttural cry, he brought the blade down with all his strength. It severed Thana’s arm cleanly, sending a geyser of blood spraying across the cobblestones. Yet Thana did not slow. Not a single expression crossed his face.

The second guard thrust his sword into Thana’s abdomen. The blade sank to the hilt, but instead of collapsing, Thana planted his feet firmly on the ground and continued to advance. A dark, thick trail of blood marked his path.

The guards, frozen in horrified disbelief, watched this mutilated man continue walking, his broken body undeterred. Thana moved forward still, inexorable, an unstoppable force that transcended flesh, fear, and even death. He did not stop.

The third guard, seized by a visceral horror at the macabre scene unfolding before him, brandished his spear with desperate resolve. With a cry of rage and terror intermingled, he hurled it with all the strength he could muster. The spear tore through the air and slammed violently into Thana’s shoulder, driving him to the ground.

This time, Thana fell. His body seemed to yield under the force of the impact, the spear pinning him to the cold cobblestones as blood slowly seeped from the wound. Yet even on the ground, his face remained impassive. His eyes, fixed, hard, and implacable, never wavered from the massive gates of the castle.

— "He’s completely mad!" shouted the guard, a nervous laugh escaping his lips.

His comrades, relieved to see Thana on the ground, burst out laughing as well. But their laughter had a strange edge to it.

As they let their guard down, silence fell once more, heavy and oppressive.

Thana moved. Slowly, he extended his uninjured arm to grab his severed limb, still lying beside him. The guards' laughter died instantly, replaced by horrified disbelief.

Under their incredulous gazes, Thana repositioned his arm against the bloody stump of his shoulder. What happened next defied all comprehension. Veins coiled around each other, bones snapped back together with dry cracks, and flesh seemed to melt and reform. The blood that had been pouring out moments earlier was drawn back as if by an invisible force, leaving his skin intact, smooth, as though the injury had never existed.

The guards stepped back, their faces blanching visibly. One of them muttered, his voice trembling with fear:

— "What... is that?"

Thana stood up, the spear still lodged in his shoulder. His icy gaze swept over the guards, not with anger, but with an indifference far more terrifying.

He pulled the spear from his shoulder. The blood that briefly seeped from the wound vanished almost instantly. He dropped the spear to the ground, where it clattered like the toll of an impending sentence.

Without a word, he took a step forward.

The guards were frozen in terror, unable to look away. Thana reached into his cloak, the movement so slow and deliberate it seemed to suspend time itself.

When he withdrew his hand, he held a dark green wrought-iron lamp, its intricate engravings shifting and undulating. The tinted glass, threaded with glowing red veins, pulsed faintly.

— "Tick-tock... tick-tock..."

Thana paused, his cold smile freezing in place. The lamp trembled in his hand.

— "Not yet," Thana murmured, his eyes dropping to the object.

The lamp’s engravings briefly lit up, a vivid pulse coursing through them. The faint murmuring sound transformed into a low hum.

The guards recoiled.

— "What... what is that?" one of them stammered, his voice breaking with panic.

Before anyone could act, the lamp vibrated violently, and a spiraling green light burst forth. The light twisted, creating a suffocating wave of heat that made the air around them shudder.

The three closest guards were caught in a swirling vortex of glowing red energy. Their bodies, gripped by an invisible force, were violently lifted off the ground, suspended in the air.

They struggled, desperately flailing, their hands searching for something to hold onto. Their cries, muffled and faint, died out before they could even fully form.

Their silhouettes, frozen in postures of terror, were inexorably drawn toward the lamp. Their flesh folded under an overwhelming force, completely absorbed into the object. In an instant, they vanished entirely, swallowed by the red light.

The lamp vibrated intensely in Thana’s hand, emitting a low hum, like a rapidly beating heart, before gradually calming. The engravings etched across its surface briefly glowed with a sinister light, as if inscribing the souls it had just consumed.

The last guard, the sole survivor, collapsed to his knees. His trembling hands sought nonexistent support on the icy cobblestones, while his lips murmured incoherent, fragmented prayers, as though his words shattered under the weight of his fear. His gaze, unable to look away, remained fixed on the lamp.

The green light flickered, pulsing faintly like a beating heart. Then, suddenly, it intensified.

— "Insufficient," murmured a raspy voice.

Thana lifted his head, his gaze settling on the guard.

The guard tried to rise, but his legs refused to move, pinned to the ground by a visceral terror. His lips quivered.

— "I’m looking for a woman who controls fire," Thana declared.

The guard shook his head frantically, tears streaming from his eyes. But no words escaped his mouth.

Thana stepped forward, his shadow stretching unnaturally under the greenish glow of the lamp, enveloping the hapless guard like a shroud. He crouched slowly toward him.

— "Speak," he whispered.

The lamp stirred, a vivid flame slipping from the tinted glass, writhing like a serpent as it slithered slowly along the guard’s body.

The light penetrated his pupils. His breath hitched, and his body convulsed before going completely rigid. His torso arched, his arms twisted at impossible angles, and his head fell back. His eyes, now devoid of humanity, glowed with a red light. The features of his face, once marked by panic, were frozen into a stoic expression. His mouth opened slowly.

— "Her name is Kendrys..." he finally murmured, his voice now a cavernous whisper, as though emanating from the depths of the lamp. "She is... in the castle... on the seventh floor..."

Thana remained motionless. The lamp vibrated violently, its guttural hum growing louder. A burst of green light erupted suddenly, enveloping the frozen guard. He no longer moved, but his body began to change.

His skin turned translucent, its color draining completely until it became a diaphanous veil barely clinging to his muscles. The dark veins beneath his flesh began to pulse, each beat following the rhythm of the lamp’s light. They coiled around his limbs like serpents, swollen with an alien, corrosive energy.

A sinister crack resounded. His bones, visible beneath the skin now stretched taut like a glass film, shimmered and subtly distorted under an invisible pressure. His joints snapped violently, his fingers twisting into grotesque angles as his hands groped futilely at the empty air.

His flesh, seized by an unbearable tremor, began to crack slowly. Thin but deep fissures appeared along his arms and legs, releasing a reddish mist—a blend of vapor and light—that rose toward the lamp.

His muscles, locked in rigid spasms, started to dissolve into ethereal filaments that floated briefly before being absorbed.

His face, already frozen in terror, began to deform. His cheeks hollowed, his eyes, unnaturally wide, lost their luster and became two empty sockets glowing with a foreign fire. His lips, twisted into a silent grimace, crumbled like ash, revealing a jaw that dislocated with a dull snap.

Every part of his being seemed to resist, as if refusing to be erased, but the lamp was relentless. The guard, now more shadow than man, was suspended between the world of the living and an unknown dimension. His outline blurred, vibrating under the lamp’s intensifying green light, until he fragmented entirely.

In one final, blinding burst, his body was sucked away in a sudden, violent motion, as though swallowed into a bottomless void. The emptiness he left behind was absolute: no trace, no imprint on the cobblestones, not even a lingering scent. He had been erased, consumed by the lamp.

The lamp’s hum faded gradually, replaced by silence. It grew cold, inert.

Thana lowered his gaze to the object, his icy eyes briefly meeting the engravings as if reading a secret only he could understand. Slowly, he ran his fingers across the lamp’s metal, tracing its etched surfaces with deliberate care.

—"Always insatiable," he murmured.

He slipped the object back into his cloak. His footsteps echoed heavily on the cobblestones. Thana entered the castle, where activity buzzed around him. The corridors resounded with hurried footsteps of servants, the rustle of fabrics, and the ceaseless murmur of conversations spilling

from adjacent rooms. Silhouettes moved back and forth. Voices rang out intermittently: orders delivered in commanding tones, hushed replies, and the metallic clatter of utensils emanating from a distant kitchen.

A servant, his arms laden with linens, bumped into Thana. He collapsed instantly, his body convulsing before his final breath escaped in a sinister gurgle.

Thana reached into his cloak and pulled out a small pouch. From it, he withdrew a pinch of silvery dust, which he blew into the air. The dust sparkled briefly before dispersing, carried by a faint breeze. Immediately, a wave of coughing and spasms swept through the castle's occupants. Servants, guards, and even nobles succumbed, their bodies crumpling like limp dolls onto the cold stone floors.

Thana ascended the stairs to the seventh floor. Doors passed by him, each adorned with intricate carvings.

When he reached the corridor of the seventh floor, he placed a hand on the stone wall. The next moment, his body faded as if his silhouette dissolved into a translucent mist. He moved forward without hesitation, passing through the wall.

On the other side, the stones seemed to tremble slightly, as if protesting the intrusion, before settling back into place behind him.

Beyond the wall, Thana found deserted chambers, where dusty beds seemed to await occupants who hadn’t arrived in decades.

He continued on and entered a dimly lit room, where a man lay sleeping in a canopy bed. His loud snores echoed through the space, oblivious to the approaching threat.

Before the man could open his eyes, a dozen knives shot out from the darkness, slicing through the air before embedding themselves in Thana’s body. The sound of blades piercing flesh resonated, grim and chilling. Three knives lodged into his skull, while the others pierced his torso, arms, and legs.

— "Well done. You spotted me," Thana said, his tone light.

Around him, dozens of floating blades hovered in the air like metallic serpents, poised to strike at any moment.

— "Your power is fascinating... but dangerous," Thana added with an amused smile.

The man finally opened his eyes.

— "Who are you?" he asked, his voice rough.

— "You don’t really want to know," Thana replied.

The man, summoning his strength, focused his power. The knives floating in the room suddenly launched toward Thana. The impact hurled his body against the wall, where he remained pinned, nailed in place by the blades.

— "What do you want?" the man roared.

— "I’m looking for Kendrys," Thana replied.

— "Why?" the man gasped.

— "Because she’s going to do something I won’t like in the future. I need to kill her before it happens."

— "You should worry about your own fate," the man growled.

But Thana was already advancing. The knives, still embedded in his flesh, no longer seemed to affect him. His torn skin began to heal itself.

— "Unfortunately for you, you’re going to die," Thana announced.

The blades passed through his body, slicing through him as if he were nothing more than an illusion. The man, trembling with rage and terror, instinctively stepped back.

Thana extended his hand, his icy fingers brushing the man’s forehead. At that moment, his eyes transformed into shards of pure light, blinding and inhuman. The man convulsed, his body wracked by uncontrollable spasms. A wave of invisible energy crashed down on him, shattering his will like a fragment of glass.

— "I warned you," Thana murmured, a cold smile curling his lips.

— "Where is Kendrys’ room?" Thana asked.

— "Room seven-twenty-nine... but she’s not there."

— "Where is she?" Thana pressed.

— "I... I don’t know..."

A sigh of irritation escaped Thana.

"How tedious," he muttered, his tone so low it sounded as if he were speaking to himself.

He began pacing the room. After a moment, he stopped abruptly. In one fluid motion, he pulled out his lamp. An incandescent light erupted immediately, enveloping the man in a burning spiral.

The man didn’t even have time to scream. His body was consumed in a fraction of a second, swallowed by the luminous vortex. The room fell silent once more.

Thana gently ran his fingers over the engraved surface of the lamp.

— "You like that, don’t you?" he asked.

The lamp responded with a faint hum.

Thana made his way to room seven-twenty-nine.

Upon entering, the stark austerity of the space struck his senses. The small, sparse room offered only the bare essentials: a narrow bed, a worn wooden table, and a window letting in the fading twilight. Everything in the room exuded simplicity, except for the desk.

The desk was cluttered with personal effects: an empty inkwell, scattered papers, and a hairbrush carelessly set to one side. He picked up the brush, his fingers brushing over its bristles.

He turned his gaze toward the window. The city, cloaked in the soft hues of twilight, stretched endlessly before him. Thana stood still for a moment, gazing at the rooftops merging into the growing shadows.

But the moment was brief. His attention quickly returned to the desk. He rifled through the papers with growing impatience, flipping them carelessly. The documents revealed nothing of note— mundane reports and unremarkable notes.

A faint sigh escaped his lips as he set the papers down. His gaze returned to the brush he still held between his fingers. After a moment of hesitation, he slipped it into his pouch.

— "This might come in handy," he murmured before turning away.