The cold faded, a pleasant numbness spread through his body. Like a warm velvet embrace, the world warped like a vortex of fluids, paint dissolved in water, a deep dark blue and periwinkle white swirl.

Thomas looked around, confused. He was still in bed, in his room, or maybe not anymore. He recognised his blanket, touched himself from head to toe, realising he was wearing pyjamas. He remembered little of the last few hours, but he was sure he had seen snow, snow as white as half the vortex that was devouring the world around him, falling from a sky as dark as the other half of that silent anomaly.

He looked out the window. From his room in the attic he could usually admire the coniferous forest that surrounded the village, beyond the orchards and the mill where the bizarre old woman who had once given him sweet buns lived.

But not that night.

That night, outside the window, he saw only darkness, like during cloudy nights or a new moon. He looked up, but the stars had also disappeared. There was nothing else out there but that slow, placid spiral that was devouring everything. The wall around the window had now completely disappeared, but the cold winter wind did not find its way in. Instead, he felt a sense of ease, and smiled.

He checked in the direction of the door. His toys, daddy's hat, his favourite stick, his rag doll had disappeared down into the mill of complementary colours. His good mood disappeared, as he was saddened by the loss of those invaluable objects, which represented precious memories and had given him endless hours of fun. What struck him most, however, was the door itself, which was still standing, now leaning on nothing, that door which had worried him in the last few days, however little he remembered.

A voice deep inside, a memory, suggested to him that something was missing from that door. Not the handle, not the hinges, but something intangible. There had to be a sound, a now disappeared sound, constant, faint and the mere thought of which aroused strong emotions in him.

A cry.

Mum's crying.

Mum had been crying for a long time. Why, he had no idea, but just the thought that there was something that could make his mother cry made him want to do so as well.

He pushed aside the blanket. He no longer felt weakened. On the contrary, he felt as if his body had become weightless. He landed his bare feet on the wooden floor, but he didn't feel the familiar sensation of wood on his skin, but rather something smooth as glass, slightly cold. He looked down but couldn't see anything. The world beneath him was no more, replaced by a black fog, shot through with flashes of gentle light, flowing slowly and peacefully through the darkness.

He took a step forward, towards the door. He had to find his mother, ask her why she had cried, and if everything had turned out for the best, since he no longer heard her despairing.

He took a second step, and restlessness began to take hold of his thoughts.

After the third and fourth steps, he realised that no matter how much he walked, the door wasn't getting any closer. As if that wasn't enough, his bed hadn't moved away. Bewildered, he found himself back under the covers, as if unable to leave his bed. He tried to come up with an explanation as to why, but his mind was unable to understand that strange phenomenon.

Frustrated by the situation, scared by the futility of his actions, he looked out the window again. Unlike shortly before, the stars had reappeared in the sky.

Two nearby, solitary stars in the sky shone with an unnatural light, one purple and the other silver, colours that reminded him of the vortex that enveloped his room, claiming everything little by little. He looked at the centre of the swirl of paint, wondering if there lay his way out from that strange dream.

He prayed to the stars as he had been taught. He prayed to the purple star to comfort his mother, since purple was her favourite colour, and to the silver star to take him to her as soon as possible. He fought back tears as he thought about how the door, mocking him, was preventing him from seeing her. It was too much! He huddled under the covers in desperation.

Then he heard a voice.

An ethereal and vibrant sound, coming from afar, although as clear and understandable as a whisper shough to one’s ear. A gentle and sterile, apathetic and calm voice spoke to him.

"What’s shared among each and every journey?", it asked.

Thomas tried to peek through the weave of the blanket. In the soft and unnatural light that had invaded the room, he could not make out anything except the threads of the fabric itself. He remained silent, scared of the stranger who was speaking to him, hoping that it wouldn't hurt him.

Suddenly the air became cooler. Like a cold gust on a warm day, a second voice, deep and hoarse, a tremor, a soft roar, full of barely contained anger, made itself heard.

"This one doesn’t get it at all!", it growled.

"Ignorance blesses the young with its poisonous promises", the first voice replied. "Omission is both a source of peace and a dangerous curse"

"Ignorance does not concern us!"

"You're right"

Thomas gulped. He didn't understand who these strangers were, or what they were saying, but for some reason they didn't seem bad. He mustered his courage, lowered the blanket and tried to peek.

"Ah! Finally!", the deep voice roared. "I love it when it begins like this!"

"Remember your promise", the gentle voice spoke. "You’re not allowed to scare them on purpose"

With his throat parched, his hands shaking at the edge of the blanket and his gaze fixed on the blurry shape that appeared at the centre of the vortex, Thomas found the strength to speak.

"Who are you?", he asked.

"A child?!", the hoarse voice said, with a disappointed tone.

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"I told you", the other voice replied. "We are the apotheosis of existence, the sweet second cradle of life"

"Yeah, so on and so forth…"

Confused by these riddles and their bizarre personalities, Thomas sat up, tried to see better, but all he had in front of him was a palette of opposites, in the centre of which had moved the two stars he had prayed to, each one resting on a dark figure, a shapeless and vibrant blur like a flame composed of darkness itself, which instead of illuminating the surroundings, devoured the light. Confused, he reached out to the silver star.

To his immense amazement, the star shone more intensely, its dot-like shape changed, taking on the appearance of a strange white hook. Around it, a cloud of black soot spread, quickly turning into something solid, streaked, wood-like. That wood outlined the shape of a sharp face, the white hook resting on its forehead. Two luminous blue eyes lit up like ethereal flames, above them two small pointed ears similar to those of a predator.

A black mask emerged from the vortex and stared straight into his soul.

"What is your biggest regret?"

Before he could say anything, the purple star imitated the first. It became a hook, but pointing downwards, unlike the first one. A white powder enveloped him and from it a second mask materialised, white and rounded, with soft and long ears on the sides, and small horns on the top. Two flaming blue eyes lit up and the purple star rested on the forehead of the second mask, which came within an inch of Thomas' nose.

"Take your time, it's important", it growled. "Hurry!"

"You make no sense", the black mask scolded him.

"Hurry!", the white mask insisted.

Thomas stared at the door, behind the two masks, the door that was mocking him. He was angry, furious. He wanted to go beyond that door, see his mother and ask her how she was. Unfortunately, however, he was unable to reach her by walking, so he spoke to the silver star.

"I want my mum", he replied. "Can you take me to her?"

The masks said nothing. Although up until that moment they had been rather talkative, even if one spoke in riddles and the other in animalistic noises, they remained silent for long moments.

Thomas got impatient and tried to put his feet on the ground again. At that gesture, the white mask growled ferociously.

"No running!"

Thomas curled up in bed and wrapped himself in the blanket, terrified. Behind the white mask, the vortex of colour began to move and meander, consolidating little by little. A purple and grey spiral swirled, and the darker part gradually separated from the lighter one. The colour assumed an increasingly defined shape: first, long ears, then thick, shaggy dark fur, a large round nose. Finally, a huge and frightening mouth, equipped with terrifying jaws, distorted blades dripping saliva, a chasm that emitted the same bluish light as the creature's eyes.

The lighter portion of the spiral, now detached from the dark one, gathered behind the black mask. Small clouds of ash expanded delicately to form fluffy-looking wads, which transformed into soft drooping ears, a woolly fleece that extended to the ground, from which emerged two arms also covered in wool, two legs that had nothing human about them and culminated in small, slender hooves.

"You promised not to scare him", she complained.

"I don't like him!", the scary figure grumbled.

Thomas had no idea who those two individuals were, but their unusual appearance was frightening. Nonetheless, his priority was to get downstairs, and the woolly creature had seemed much friendlier than the fur-covered one, so he turned to the silver star once more.

"Let me go to my mother", he begged.

The dark and menacing monster approached him. With his huge wet nose he sniffed him like an ordinary dog.

"He doesn't fear us", he said.

"Respect and fear don't always go hand in hand", the other being explained. "I'm sorry, dear Wolf"

"Mh… No fun today?"

"Not with this one"

The woolly figure held out a hand to Thomas. It was a five-fingered hand similar to that of a person, but also covered in silky white fleece. He hesitated to accept it, unsure of what her intentions were.

"Can I see Mom?", he asked suspiciously.

"Lamb, there’s no time!", roared Wolf.

"Time belongs to no one, but we can invoke its favour, if you promise"

"What promise?"

The two exchanged a look. The Wolf growled at his companion, who cocked her head to the side, defiantly, or perhaps mockingly, until the white mask sighed in exasperation.

"Fine!", he resigned. "But why does he insist so much?"

"Because of love, dear Wolf"

"Love is good", agreed Wolf.

"Love unites us and makes us who we are"

Once Wolf was convinced, Lamb turned back to Thomas. Her voice seemed like a distant and unsentimental chant, but equally sweet and accommodating.

"You can see your mother, but for a moment. You won't be able to talk to her, though. Then, you’ll have to come with us"

"Where?", he asked.

"Where everything becomes the same again, shapeless, for better or for worse"

"Yes!", Wolf added. "So boring!"

Lamb held out her hand to Thomas again. He watched them both for a while, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t understand what was happening, but his confusion and questions could wait. The urge to see his mother was overwhelming, so he accepted the deal. Wolf seemed disappointed by it, while Lamb let out a playful laugh. She helped him out of bed. Wolf, whose body seemed to be composed of nothing more than a cloud of dark smoke, floated around them playfully.

"Finally we move! To the next hunt!"

"Soon, dear Wolf"

Thomas followed Lamb towards the door. Unlike his first clumsy attempt, with the guidance of his new friends he managed to reach it. The Wolf nudged it and swung it open, flooding the room with warm light from the hearth downstairs.

Thomas immediately recognised his mother, who was wearing her cap and apron, as she always did when cooking. She was stirring some soup with a wooden spoon in the copper pot resting on the fire, giving her back to them. He wanted to call her, but remembered Lamb's warning.

"Can't she hear me?", he asked.

"There is nothing about you that can reach her anymore, except memories"

"The soup will go to waste…"

Wolf approached the cauldron and smelled its contents. He looked at Thomas, whimpered sadly, and floated back to their side.

"What's the matter, dear Wolf?"

"Nothing!", he lamented. "They are all the same, in the end"

"Will mum be lonely?", Thomas asked.

"They are all alone, since their birth", Lamb explained. Then she shook Thomas's hand more vigorously. "That is why we walk the path of life holding hands"

"And even after!", Wolf added.

Lamb, with her free hand, gave him back Dad's hat, which had been lost during that bizarre night of unexpected events. Thomas accepted it and smiled.

He looked one last time at his mother, and his emotions took over. He burst into tears, while Lamb accompanied him towards the centre of the vortex. Wolf tried to console him by rubbing his big hairy head against him, with little success.

The purple and white spiral enveloped everything, devouring what little remained of the surroundings. Thomas' sadness vanished along with everything else, he felt calm, and he forgot everything.

An intense light dazzled him. Only Wolf remained at his side.

Lamb stood in front of him. She held a bow, on which was nocked a silver arrow that shone so brightly that it was even difficult to look at. Wolf howled again, but Thomas did not share his sadness. Instead, he relaxed and waited to wake up.

A hiss pierced the air...

And with it all of his worries.