The sky was a smothering black, an oppressive void that stretched out endlessly, offering no solace, no stars, no moon to guide. The only sound was the low, relentless crashing of the waves, their murmur like the whispered agony of the sea itself. The water churned against jagged rocks, dark and cold, with an unsettling current that seemed to pull at the very air. Oleksandr walked along the shoreline, his boots sinking into the wet, sinking sand, but he felt no chill, no wetness. The air hung heavy around him, thick and humid, as though the very atmosphere conspired to suffocate his thoughts. His breath came slow, shallow, lost in the noise of the waves that seemed to echo inside his mind, mingling with fragments of things best left forgotten. The sea before him was an endless stretch of inky blackness, its surface broken only by the roiling foam of waves crashing against the rocks. The beach itself was barren, as lifeless as the night. No birds, no wind, no hope. The horizon disappeared into the same blackness as the sky, as if the world itself were unraveling at the edges, a place where God had turned his eyes away.

He walked, though he could not say why. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the sand was trying to swallow him whole. The silence, broken only by the violent hiss of water meeting stone, seemed to mock him, reminding him how small he was against the vastness of the sea and the darkness around him.

There was nothing here, and yet he walked.

So dark. So dark…

Oleksandr froze as a faint, almost imperceptible crunch of sand echoed behind him. Slowly, he turned, heart pounding in his chest, his senses sharpened by the unnatural stillness of the night.

There, standing just beyond the edge of the dark surf, was Thekkur. His twin brother, lost to time and violence, stood before him like a ghost pulled from the depths of memory.

Thekkur’s face was shrouded in a strange, unsettling calm—blank, expressionless, yet hauntingly familiar. His eyes, sharp and intense, bore into Oleksandr’s with a quiet power, a silent communication that only twins could share. There was no smile, no flicker of emotion, just a guarded watchfulness, as if he were both present and distant, a figure caught between worlds.

Thekkur was draped in a long white toga, its folds flowing loosely over his broad shoulders, draping down to his feet like some ancient robe of a forgotten era. Part of the cloth was wrapped over his head like a shawl, shadowing his features and adding an ethereal quality to his presence. The pale fabric seemed almost to glow against the darkness, a stark contrast to the bleak night, fluttering faintly in a breeze that Oleksandr could not feel.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Thekkur’s gaze remained fixed, piercing and unreadable, as if he was seeing straight through Oleksandr and beyond, to something only he could understand. There was no comfort in his presence, only a sense of the unresolved, a reminder of things left undone and words never spoken. The sea crashed on behind them, relentless and indifferent, as the two brothers stood caught in a moment outside of time, each trapped in their own silent turmoil.

Thekkur moved toward him with a slow, deliberate stride, each step measured, purposeful, as if closing the distance between them was a sacred ritual. Oleksandr watched, rooted to the spot, unable to look away. The familiar crunch of sand under Thekkur’s feet filled the silence between the crash of the waves, each sound sending ripples through the stillness. It was as though the world itself held its breath, waiting.

They stood face to face, close enough that Oleksandr could see the faint lines etched into Thekkur’s features, the scars of a life they had lived together. Those pale blue eyes, cold as the Siberian winters of their youth, bore into his own with a piercing intensity. Oleksandr knew those eyes better than his own reflection, eyes that had always been a mirror of his soul, a constant in a world of chaos. They were stoic, guarded, yet alive with the silent, unspoken language only they shared. Oleksandr felt the bond between them, a force that defied the boundaries of life and death. It was not just a memory or a dream, but a tangible, living thing—a thread woven from shared blood, pain, and countless battles fought side by side. He could feel it now, stretching out across the gulf that had torn them apart, pulsing between them like a heartbeat, relentless and unbreakable. It was as though their connection was a third presence standing there, whispering in a language without words, filling the space between them with the weight of all that had been lost.

Thekkur’s gaze did not waver, his expression unreadable yet charged with an unspoken intensity that made Oleksandr’s chest tighten. There was no anger, no sorrow, just the steady, knowing look of a man who had seen beyond the veil of life, who had crossed into the unknown and returned, if only for this moment. Oleksandr’s heart ached with a longing he could not name, the presence of his brother both a comfort and a cruel reminder of all that had been torn from him. Here they were, face to face, yet worlds apart, bound together by a bond that even death could not sever.

Thekkur turned his gaze to the sea, his eyes seeming to follow the endless, crashing waves. Then, the silence broke, shattered by his voice.

"You always loved the sea," he said softly. "You found peace here. But that’s changed, hasn’t it?" Oleksandr felt a shutter in his heart. Thekkur's words echoed a truth that he had not wanted to admit, even to himself.

"Yes," he replied simply. “The smell of the ocean reminds me of the day you died.” His brother’s gaze turned back to him, studying his face, as if searching for something.

"I’ve been watching you," Thekkur said. His words were quiet, but they hit Oleksandr like a blow. He'd always known Thekkur could see through him, even when they were children, but he still wasn’t prepared to hear it spoken aloud. "I’ve seen all that’s changed in you," he continued. Oleksandr felt a flash of anger, mingled with something else he couldn’t quite identify.

"How?" Oleksandr managed to force out. "How have you been watching me?" Thekkur's expression remained maddeningly enigmatic, even in death—a ghost that was all too real.

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"I’m not sure," Thekkur answered after a moment. "Sometimes I’m here, in your thoughts. Sometimes I’m somewhere else. Time doesn’t exist the same in this place. But, let me tell you this, brother."

Oleksandr felt another shutter at the word.

Brother.

"What?"

"Part of you died with me. Our souls... they never separated. I believe that is why we are still bound." Oleksandr listened, his heart clenching. Thekkur spoke with an unfamiliar calm, as if he had already come to terms with the circumstances. A part of him almost wanted to argue, to deny what he was saying, but he couldn’t. It felt too real, too true.

"Yes... I thought so."

"But she's giving you life." Oleksandr jerked his head up. Thekkur's gaze, intense and knowing, was fixed on him again. Oleksandr could never hide anything from him, not even when they were children.

"What do you mean?" He demanded, his voice low and guarded.

"You know of whom I speak. A fair maiden, the one who's blood-red stone you bare." Oleksandr’s hand went to the ruby charm involuntarily. "Blood... Yes, that is an interesting thing." Thekkur ponders, his eyes set on the ruby bead that dangles from Oleksandr's ear. Oleksandr watched Thekkur’s gaze follow the bead, a sudden wariness coursing through him. Blood was sacred. Blood tied people together. It bound them. Thekkur steps closer, his hand clasping Oleksandr's shoulder. "In order to return to your own blood, you must cover your hands with it." Oleksandr felt his heart freeze as Thekkur's words rang through his head. Return? Return to his own blood? Return to what?

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Oleksandr demanded, his voice more strained than he cared to admit. His heart was racing, as if trying to escape his chest. Something about this whole situation felt wrong, felt off, like he was being led into something he didn’t quite understand.

"You will come to understand, brother. In time." Oleksandr felt frustration surge through him. Time. Again with the time. He never knew Thekkur to be so cryptic, so maddeningly obscure.

"Why can’t you just tell me what you mean?" He bit out, frustration bleeding into his voice. Thekkur's face softens ever so slightly, his eyes filled with a familiar tenderness as he turns. Something about Thekkur's demeanor made a tremor go through Oleksandr's chest. The softness of the eyes of the brother he had lost, so long ago. It filled him with an aching, longing sort of pain that he couldn't quite shake.

Thekkur's gaze shifted slightly, a subtle movement that drew Oleksandr's attention. Following the direction of his brother's eyes, he turned to look down the beach. There, standing at a distance, was a tall woman enveloped in a ghostly white shroud that billowed around her like mist. She stood with her back to them, staring out towards the dark sea, a solitary figure against the tumultuous waves.

The silhouette of her form was ethereal, almost otherworldly, and Oleksandr's heart quickened at the sight. Though she was too far away for him to see her features clearly, he could make out the length of her blonde hair, which danced and fluttered behind her like a silken banner caught in an unseen breeze. The pale strands glimmered in the scant light, reminiscent of sunlit fields—vivid yet haunting against the darkness of the night. A sense of familiarity washed over Oleksandr, mingled with a sense of foreboding.

Who was she?

Why did she draw him in, even from such a distance? It was as if an unseen force tugged at him, urging him to approach her, to uncover the mystery that enveloped her. The crashing waves continued their relentless song, and the air was heavy with an otherworldly tension, as though the moment held its breath, poised on the edge of revelation. Thekkur remained still, his expression unchanged, but Oleksandr could sense the weight of his brother's silent acknowledgment, as if he, too, understood the significance of the woman on the shore. The bond they shared pulsed between them, alive with a shared recognition that transcended the veil separating the living from the dead.

In this desolate place, where dreams blurred with reality, the figure stood as a bridge, a connection to something lost, something yearned for, stirring within Oleksandr’s heart like the restless waves against the rocks.

A wave of emotion crashed over Oleksandr as he stared at the woman in the white shroud, the revelation striking him like a thunderclap. He had never seen her before, yet something deep within him stirred, a recognition that transcended the boundaries of memory and time. It was the same instinctive understanding he had always felt with Thekkur, a bond forged from shared blood and spirit.

“No…” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with disbelief. “No… it can’t be.” Thekkur turned to him, a small bittersweet smile gracing his lips, a look that held both sorrow and understanding.

“Yes…”

Those simple words sent shivers down Oleksandr’s spine. In that moment, he grasped the truth with a clarity that cut through the fog of uncertainty. Despite never having met her, he knew in his heart who she was—the woman who had given them life, life that had been stolen from her the moment theirs began. She stood there, a specter of their past, her presence both haunting and beautiful...

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The sound of laughter rang through the birch forest, a joyful melody that danced on the crisp air. Two little boys, no older than six or seven, darted among the slender trees, their giggles weaving through the quiet like a gentle breeze. They were wild and they were free, sticks clasped tightly in their small hands, wielding them like swords as they chased each other in circles. The sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the forest floor with patches of golden light, illuminating their long white hair that flowed behind them like banners of purity and youth. It was a scene painted in vibrant colors, a tapestry of innocence unmarred by the harshness of reality.

The forest stood as a silent witness to their joy, a sanctuary where the burdens of the world could not intrude. The only sounds were their laughter and the soft crunch of fallen leaves beneath their feet, a symphony of carefree existence. There were no worries beyond the games they played, no fears to taint the purity of their bond. They were explorers in a world that belonged to them alone, lost in the beauty of a life that should have been.

A young woman trailed closely behind the two boys, her presence a gentle anchor to their wild escapades. She was tall and graceful, a headscarf elegantly wrapped around her head, its fabric fluttering softly in the breeze. Long blonde hair spilled from beneath the scarf, woven into a thick braid that cascaded down her back like a golden river. She carried a woven basket, the sun catching the vibrant colors of the berries it held—nature’s bounty collected with care.

“Oli! Theko! Don’t go too far!” Her voice called out, melodic and warm, laced with the gentle authority of a loving guardian. Her tone held a hint of laughter, mingling with the echoes of the boys' giggles, as if she were part of their joy, yet steadfast in her watchful role. The boys paused mid-chase, glancing back at her, their faces flushed with delight. The moment felt infused with magic, a snapshot of blissful simplicity where love and laughter intertwined beneath the sheltering branches of the birch trees.

“Just a little further, Mama!” The boy called out, his youthful exuberance bubbling over. The boys exchanged gleeful glances, their spirits lifted by the woman’s presence, as though she were a part of the sun filtering through the leaves, casting warmth and light upon their playful hearts.

As they dashed away again, the laughter of the young woman echoed softly behind them, blending with the rustling leaves and the distant sound of the stream, a melody that would linger in Oleksandr’s heart long after the dream began to fade.