A profound relief flooded Norman as voices echoed on the cathedral square. Intense joy overcame him as the voices resonated in the hall. With what little energy he had left, he did his best to signal his presence. Down below, the figures became active and pointed in his direction. One of them took something out of their bag and raised it to their eyes. Then, nothing happened. They remained motionless, staring at him, clearly tense. Animated words echoed in the nave. From his position, Norman couldn't understand them, but the movements he perceived worried him. Even though Venig and Lloyd often argued, they knew how to behave in such situations. Something was amiss.

Down below, the dispute ceased. Footsteps emerged from the cathedral. A figure advanced into the hall, whistling. A tiny silhouette stood out in the twilight. It was a very small man with unkempt hair. Norman stared at him in disbelief as he danced on the cobblestones and spun around under his feet. His rhythmic movements flowed in a strange kind of dance. Completely absorbed in his art, he shouted something to the assembly, unsure if it was directed at him. Heavy footsteps interrupted his dance. The second companion appeared under the starlight. A shiver of fear ran through Norman. Despite the distance between them, the man below appeared gigantic. To the point that the dwarf disappeared in his shadow. Something rested between the frying pans that served as his hands.

The voices erupted again, exchanging invectives. Norman was sure he had never met these strange characters before. This chance encounter in the Zone didn't bode well. He assessed his options. Hanging there would make him an easy target, and with his mangled arm, climbing was impossible. Jumping. Below, the drop was ten meters. Jumping would mean choosing death.

Fear clouded his thoughts, leaving him unable to make a decision. He hung there helplessly, battered by the storm. Suddenly, a sharp crack rang out. Looking below, he saw the giant pointing a gun in his direction. Desperate, he drew on his last reserves to try to swing himself. A first shot whizzed past his ear, so close that a single unfortunate movement of the rope would have been fatal. The next one lodged in his thigh. A familiar sensation overwhelmed him. His leg went numb. "Those damn zoners are trying to sedate me," he grumbled. The substance calmed his agitated mind. Through the haze, he spotted a beam below, leading to the collapsed roof of the building. It was a significant drop, but if he could reach it, he might have a chance to escape.

Along the crumbling wall, his feet fidgeted. Once, then twice, then three times, until he judged his momentum sufficient to propel himself towards the ledge. The wind at his back pushed him towards freedom. At the end of his course, he wasn't even sure how to release the cable. Another tranquilizer dart lodged into his biceps and solved the problem. His injured limb grew numb, and he lost his grip. As he fell, he shouted, "Thanks for the meds, you idiots!" With the grace of a corpse thrown off a bridge, he collided with the beam. Clinging with all his feeble strength, his last functional arm held on, but the wood slipped, barely keeping him afloat. Gasping, he tried to hoist himself onto the ledge using his one working leg.

Suddenly, a tingling sensation crawled up his neck. Warmth flooded his veins, cradling his brain. His head grew heavy, his eyes fluttered, and the summit seemed to drift away. His skull struck something, but the contact didn't bother him. He felt sticky liquid on his forehead. The ground approached, soft, welcoming, even comforting. He was so tired... Maybe sleeping for a long time would do him good. He let his body relax, a smile forming on his lips, awaiting the embrace. His lungs emptied like a burst balloon. He felt as though his nerves were being torn from him. His blood boiled. The explosive cocktail of tranquilizers, adrenaline, and endorphins saturated his neurons. Everything turned black.

*

The jolts of the road brought him back to his senses, his numbed body refusing even to lift his eyelids. White flashes passed before his eyes. His left arm was throbbing. Judging by the pounding headache, he must have been used as a bowling ball. The chaotic movements of the vehicle against his cheek only worsened his headache. With caution, he managed to open one eye discreetly to observe his surroundings. He was lying face down on a decrepit carpet, so dirty that an ecosystem seemed to be thriving on it.

Two figures stood nearby, concealed by the darkness. No one was speaking. The erratic movements of the vehicle suggested they had veered off the road, but that didn't mean much anymore. A more violent jolt sent him towards the driver's seat. He tried to protect his head with his hands but was hindered by the restraints binding his arms behind his back. A weak hand attempted to hold him back, but with little conviction. His head hit the rigid plastic, and blood flowed from his forehead once more. The interior of the cabin spun around him. Distant laughter reached his ears. Then, he lost consciousness.

*

He regained consciousness on an uneven straw mattress, shivering in the icy air. The intense cold on his skin informed him that he was as naked as a worm, his jaws clenched, his eyes empty. The wind was whistling through a poorly insulated door. Through a curtain of intertwined links, a faint glow from a fireplace flickered. The trembling flames struggled to escape the hearth and provide warmth to the room. Unable to stand, he crawled to the fireplace and tried to push the curtain aside with a gesture.

But as soon as he touched it, a sharp pain shot through his palm. Surprised, he withdrew, cursing. Sore, he refused to touch it again and remained lying there, staring at the flames, deprived of their inadequate warmth. The tingling in his hand eventually subsided, which, far from reassuring him, only heightened his concerns. "What if it's poisoned... No. No, they wouldn't have kept me alive until now just to poison me afterwards. Besides, what is this thing?"

With caution, he approached the thorny curtain. His eyes gradually adapted to the dimness. He felt around until his fingers encountered a sharp point and followed its line with his index. At its base, he discovered some kind of wood or wicker weaving from one side of the room to the other, with spikes emerging in all directions. Bewildered, he quickly backed away and took refuge on his straw mattress. The cold gripped him once more. Exhausted, he fell back asleep.

*

The discomfort of the straw was digging into his back. A gentle warmth caressed his cheek and penetrated through his eyelids. Dazzled, he cautiously opened his eyes, unsure of where he was. He tried to get up, but his muscles refused to cooperate. In front of him, a narrow window allowed the first rays of daylight to filter in, illuminating his distress. Now, he could distinguish the contours of his prison. The confined space contained only a chair, his straw mattress, and himself. The walls were made of logs, similar to those found in mountain chalets, adorned with hunting trophies. In the center of the room, what he had mistaken for a curtain turned out to be a large thorny lattice. The plant emerged from the dilapidated floor, its stems stretching up to the ceiling and intertwining in an impenetrable tangle. The giant bramble surrounded him with its thick arms. The space he had was barely enough to move around.

The fire had been rekindled during the night. Someone would eventually come to visit him. So, he waited. Lying down, sitting, kneeling, never higher than his captor allowed him. The last embers of the hearth were extinguishing when the door opened. In the twilight's golden and rosy hue, the shadow of a young girl appeared. She seemed hesitant to enter. He tried to say something, but only a hoarse groan escaped his throat. She took a step back, seemingly retreating. He didn't want her to leave; he wanted answers. He tried to move toward her, but his lifeless body didn't support him, and he fell face down. The door closed with a murmur. He cried until sleep overtook him.

*

The afternoon sun pulled him out of his torpor. He sat up, now fully aware of his situation. His injuries worried him less. After the fall of the previous day, he felt fortunate to still feel them. A steady crackling came from the fireplace. In front of his straw mattress, a bowl of water awaited him. Someone had come during his sleep. His parched mucous membranes screamed for hydration. He eagerly brought the bowl to his lips and put it back empty. The water twisted his insides. His mind muddled, he began to explore every corner of his cage, searching for any means of escape. Resignation was starting to take hold when the door cracked open.

A curious gaze observed him through the opening. The same scene as yesterday repeated itself. He stared with incredulity at the indecisive figure standing in front of his prison, hesitant to enter. This time, he simply looked at her without saying anything, without moving. He tried to guess what expression might persuade her to talk to him. His swollen eyes filled with sadness seemed to convince her, for with both a graceful and nervous step, the visitor finally crossed the threshold. The dimness of the room didn't do justice to her beauty; nevertheless, he found her sublime.

The last traces of adolescence still marked her face. The innocence that emanated from her contrasted with the intensity of her gaze. She had one of those hypnotic looks, not the kind of femme fatales, seductresses, or high-class women, but rather the looks of lunatics, lunatics, or eccentrics. An unpredictable gaze. Curls of red hair framed her face, emphasizing her pale complexion. She curiously fixed her eyes, black as ink, scanning his body from top to bottom. He wondered why she was observing him like this. She seemed a little embarrassed.

The sudden realization of his nudity made him uncomfortable. With a modest gesture, he interposed his hands between his private parts and the young woman's gaze. He thought he saw a slight pout on her delicate face. She turned away and faced the other direction. Caught off guard, he called out, "Wait, please!" She slowed her pace without turning around. Hurrying, he stood up and, with a pleading voice, continued, "Please, at least tell me what you want from me! You don't seem to be part of the GC... and I don't want trouble with anyone else. My friends need me! Out there! It's extremely important, I must get to Aurumont as soon as possible..." She resumed her walk. Norman pressed against the thorns and shouted, "Come on, please! Let's forget about this cage situation and start on good terms! If you help me, I can help you in return, and the Empire will reward you..."

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She turned her head and gave him a look that abruptly reminded him of the indecency of his position. Ashamed, he curled up to conceal his nudity, feeling curious eyes roaming over his body. A soft but authoritative voice commanded, "Wait. I want to look at you some more. Does that bother you?" Her request caught him off guard. Normally not very reserved about his privacy, the current context amplified his modesty. Moreover, the idea of being exposed like this in front of a young girl made him uncomfortable. "Alright then, I'm leaving!" she declared in a tone with unfamiliar accents, taking a step toward the door. He couldn't let her leave, but still tried one last attempt: "You could be my sister..." "Where I come from, that wouldn't be a problem," she retorted with a mocking smile.

Defeated, he straightened up with a long crack of flesh and bones. His defiant eyes sought those of the nymph, who was already busy elsewhere. He felt an odd discomfort at exposing himself like this, in front of this curious and mischievous girl. She carefully scanned his body, detailing every curve and hollow. She had been contemplating him for several minutes now, without saying a word. Finally, she stopped her inspection on his private parts. A hint of lasciviousness appeared behind the young woman's composed facade. Norman felt his embarrassment growing as the seconds passed. She finally confessed to him, "You know, I've never seen one before..." It took him a moment to react, uncertain about the direction the conversation was taking. "You mean a naked man?" he asked, half-choking. "Not exactly," she retorted mischievously, gesturing toward his groin.

Norman's face turned red, and he stammered a few words, unable to form a coherent sentence. A satisfied chuckle put an end to his ordeal. The young woman, laughing, teased him, "I'm pulling your leg, grandpa! I may be young, but I'm not naive. Seeing your attributes doesn't impress me; I've seen others. However, not all were as easy to ogle."

Norman remained dumbfounded. His young captor disturbed him with a little too much ease for his liking.

"In that case, what's the point of all this charade?!" he inquired.

"I don't know... I guess I was bored at the chalet. So I decided to come and tease you a bit. And when I saw you, with your uptight look, I thought... Well, you get it!" she replied with a mischievous smile.

Her composure was beginning to irritate Norman. He spoke again, angered:

"So, it's just a game for you? But who are you first? And who are you all? What do you want from me, for heaven's sake..."

She giggled and replied calmly:

"Everything is a game, because that's all life can offer us. And as for those who brought you here... How would you say it in your language? They are... the 'brave' ones in our community." She emphasized "brave" with air quotes. "A bunch of drunkards who roam the region looking for young men to join us."

"To join you?" Norman repeated, taken aback.

"Yes... You see, we're not many. We lack labor in our fields, and our genetic heritage is deteriorating."

He looked at her in a strange way, and she added:

"I assure you, I'm not making fun of you this time. You should see my uncle's appearance... Believe me, I barely dodged his shot," she concluded.

Norman was dumbfounded. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts:

"So, if I understand correctly: your group of 'brave' ones spotted me on top of the tower and decided to bring me here? 'Hey, why not invite him to join us?' 'No, it's easier to drug him. After all, who wouldn't want to be transported to who knows where in the mountains, end up naked in the freezing cold, deprived of food, locked in a cage of thorns!'" he exclaimed, imitating a nasal voice. "Is that how it happened?!"

"It's more or less like that, yes," the young woman admitted. "Except they would say they rescued you from your mess, perched atop the tower..."

"Great, please convey my gratitude to them, along with thanks for my exploding head and empty stomach," he interrupted. "Bring me a plow and a woman to impregnate, and I'll get to work immediately..."

"Irony, isn't it? You're right, it helps... for a while," she replied, contemplating. "Still, know that they didn't lock you up here to torture you but to test you."

"To test me... Why?" he asked, bewildered.

"To assess your resilience, your strength, and maybe even... reveal your power," she replied enigmatically.

Norman let out a painful and sarcastic laugh. His mouth felt dry and bitter as he continued:

"So, that's what you want, huh? You're still at it? Chasing after Dr. Wright's illusions! After all this time, I thought you would have forgotten about me."

The young girl's face displayed confusion.

"Wright...? Hmm, never heard of him," she assured, surprised. "If our people chose you, it's because of the gift you possess. The one we share. Did you really think they took you randomly? I mean... look at us! Our eyes have turned dark!"

This time, it was Norman who appeared perplexed. Paying closer attention, he noticed that their pupils strangely resembled each other, a deep black, the color of the Ether. He hesitated for a moment.

"Is that your convoluted way of telling me that you have no connection with the GC and its operations in the Zone?" he questioned, wary.

"The GC... You mean those guys who hunt for meteorites? I haven't encountered them in a long time. Since we escaped from that cursed cult, we've been hiding in the mountains. It doesn't exactly make it easy to meet others, you know," she replied mischievously.

"A cult? You mean the Awakened...?" he asked, curious.

"Are there any others?" she retorted.

"Well, then what are you? Now that you no longer worship the new prophet."

"We're an independent community, living in harmony with nature. It's pretty tough, if you ask me. Who would have thought that living in a hostile country, pursued by deranged fanatics, wouldn't be a walk in the park? Certainly not my father... Our lives often boil down to wandering like fugitives, praying the creatures leave us alone. Yet, it's been five years, and I'm still here to complain about it. But there are days when I almost miss the comfort of the dorms. Luckily, the memory of that bastard Amor eases my mind," she concluded sarcastically.

She spoke in a detached and almost absent tone. He remained speechless. They stared at each other face to face for a moment, saying nothing. Relieved not to be in the hands of the GC, Norman realized that negotiating with slavers would probably be less dangerous than facing mercenaries. Moreover, he sensed a certain willingness to dialogue in his captor. Intrigued by the possible outcome of this strange situation, he decided to sit cross-legged in front of the brambles. The teenager made no objection and even imitated his posture. She stood a hand's length from the vegetal bars.

Carried by a light breeze coming through the half-open door, the scent of the young woman reached Norman. An intoxicating blend of sweat, fresh earth, and damp grass. An animal musk that brought back distant memories of his childhood in the Zone. In the glow of the fireplace, her pale face blushed, revealing marked features, well beyond her young age. The blackness of her pupils engulfed the flames. Up close, the hardness of her gaze mixed with a certain anxiety. Her snub nose twitched, as if she were expecting something. Hesitant, she nibbled on her lower lip.

Norman tried to speak, but she interrupted him immediately: "I know you must have a lot of questions. And I would be delighted to answer them, if I can, but right now, we have a problem."

"We have a problem? It's me who has a problem here," Norman said, pointing to the cage.

"I assure you that on this one, you're not the only one in trouble. If you'll pay attention, I'll explain everything," she offered resolutely.

"Ah, finally, you decide! Alright, go ahead. I have nothing better to do anyway," he joked.

"Okay. So... it's very simple actually. Do you remember what I said about how and why you ended up here?"

"The act of love and manure?" Norman sarcastically recalled. "How could I forget that great moment? The promise of a simple and natural happiness."

"Indeed. Well... My father and my uncle outside, they caught you so that we could enjoy this happiness together. Isn't that great?"

The information took a moment to reach his brain. His throat emitted a twisted sound of swallowing.

"Oh yes... great... And what do you think about it?" he asked cautiously.

"Me? Well, I believe it's wonderful! Just imagine us with our eight or ten children – depending on how many survive – in these gloomy mountains. It's the ultimate bliss!"

Norman's face decomposed with each word.

"And in bed! I'm sure a handsome city boy like you knows how to perform," she continued, unstoppable.

Thoughts raced through Norman's mind as he tried to stammer out his refusal. Suddenly, she twisted on the ground, overcome by a fit of laughter.

"You should see your face, it's priceless. I'm dying," she managed to say between breaths.

On the other side, Norman's face oscillated between confusion, annoyance, and relief. She continued:

"No, really? You think I would have told you all that if I was into the idea? How can you fall for it twice, grandpa? It's crazy that you can survive here while being so gullible. I guess the city life makes you soft."

He stared at her without flinching, waiting for her to continue.

"Don't take it personally, okay? It's not about you. You're quite cute in the tormented wanderer kind of way. But, at sixteen, I can't see myself with an old man who's about to bury his thirties."

"I'm 19."

"Oops, my bad... The Metorsterne must not have been kind to you."

"The Metorsterne...? What... Never mind. Where are you going with this?" Norman redirected.

"Yeah, sorry. Since you don't seem bright, I'll make it simple: neither you nor I want to end up in a relationship, scratching that damn arid land. But neither of us can escape it without each other's help. Me, I want to get out of here! I'm fed up with their nonsense..."

"What are you talking about? You want to abandon your family?" Norman asked, taken aback.

"Of course! Anyway, it's just a matter of time before we all bite the dust. If it's not Amor who finds us, this darned nature will have decimated us all by the next rains."

"Haven't you been managing like this for five years?" Norman remarked.

"Yeah, five years. You want to know what happened during those long five years?"

"I guess you won't hesitate to tell me."

"Well, you're guessing wrong, wise guy. I'm not going to spill my life story to the first guy who shows up. All you need to know is that if you're here, it's because others aren't anymore."

"Nice. So, you want to leave? Where do you want to go?"

"Anywhere but here! I want to go far away. To the city, if necessary... As long as I'm never found. I've been thinking about it for a while. I even learned to speak the language of your Empire so I can move around there. I must not be doing too bad since you seem to understand what I'm saying. So, tell me if you get this. I have a plan to get out of here."

She took out a small notebook from her pocket and opened it to a scribbled page. She handed it to Norman, who deciphered it in the dim light. He read aloud.

"Two pots of honey, one ham, three loaves of bread, two three-quarters-filled hydrogen capsules, jewelry..."

"You're going to read all of it out loud?" she asked impatiently.

"I see you've got everything planned for your picnic," he teased.

"Asshole, this is serious. I'm risking a lot being here! Everything is ready, I could leave without you! This is your last chance, after this, I'm gone..."

"If you've got it all planned out, why do you need me?" Norman pointed out.

"Damn it, you're getting on my nerves! You want to know? Fine. I need some idiot from the Empire to take me to the city since apparently foreigners are not your thing, city folks."

"Ah, so you want to go to the city! I knew it! You talked too much trash about it not to be tempted..."

"You've got it all wrong, you asshole. I'd never set foot there if I could avoid it... In fact, I'm looking for someone... a friend. I think I can find her there."

Norman's face softened. For the first time, their eyes shared something other than a nuance. Sorrow. He cleared his throat and simply replied, "What do you need from me?"