An absolutely tormenting silence echoed throughout the destroyed skeleton of the Shadow Theater. The world outside, beyond the decaying wooden door that presented us to the atrium of the once-majestic building, had come to a halt. There were no sounds of cars, no honking, no noise from merchants shouting the prices of their goods, and no hurried footsteps of people late for their appointments. Everything had stopped, respecting the last phrase Scura had uttered. All seven characters remained silent, motionless, staring at each other's faces and the malicious smile of the man dressed as a fool. But in their heads and thoughts were big questions, great fears, doubts, and anxieties. Was the name of the play truly so disturbing? Perhaps not; it even sounded silly. A title that even a three-year-old could have invented, but under those circumstances, there was nothing innocent or silly about it. If that title had been said anywhere else, it would at most have elicited laughs, so why did everyone fall silent?

"Scura rules the world." That was what he said. Told in a malicious way, even in a joking tone, it was strange. A man who did not seem completely sane, gathering children in a destroyed theater, proposing a play, and promising the realization of miracles in exchange. The moment the name of the strange play was mentioned, it was to be expected that everyone would shut their mouths like tombs.

— He must be crazy — whispered Dáhlia, almost impossible to hear. Only Mors, with his refined hearing abilities, managed to catch the worried phrase from the girl with a ponytail and mature appearance. Deep down, it was all they were thinking about—the lack of sanity not only of the man but also of the entire situation they found themselves in.

The strange impression of danger that the blind boy had felt upon entering the theater ran down his spine once again. He was sure that Scura was insane from the moment he heard his first sentence. In Scura's voice was a hidden mystery, as if he wanted the seven children to know he was mad. But why, the young boy could not say for sure.

— Sorry about the title. I see it didn’t sound good to you — said Scura, biting the corner of his lip — but I don’t plan to change it.

Again, Caius broke the silence.

— Setting aside the idiotic name of your equally idiotic play... — he spat — how can you guarantee that you will fulfill our wishes?

The man dressed as a court fool laughed.

— Don’t worry, you won’t be fooled — he said — but I can only show you the proof on the first day of the play.

Caius slammed his hand on the armrest.

— I knew it! — he shouted. — We can’t trust you, you old madman! — rising from his chair again, huffing. — I won’t be forced to stay in this horrible place. I’m leaving. If you’re stupid enough, stay here.

— Please, Caius, come back... — Scura tried to prevent one of his characters from leaving.

— No! You old madman! — he shouted, heading for the exit.

But as soon as he touched the doorknob, the ground trembled violently, almost making Mors fall from his seat. A noise of cracking walls was heard, and a lot of dust fell onto the shoulders and blonde hair of the boy.

— What the hell is this?!

Then the poor boy was caught off guard. One of the pillars supporting one of the balconies shattered into a thousand pieces, and the balcony, without any column to hold it up, fell like a bomb to the ground, scattering pieces of wood and large marble chunks the size of two Mors. A tiny stone flew and hit Tommy on the neck, causing him to scream as if stung by a swarm of hornets.

After the smoke and dust that had obscured their view of the accident cleared, everyone looked directly at where Caius was, trembling on the floor, staring fixedly at the shattered balcony that had almost killed him.

— You were lucky, Caius — said Scura, with a false sad face. — I forgot to mention that once you accepted to enter the play, the theater won’t let you leave — he cleared his throat dryly. — If you try to, you will have to pay the exit of the script with your own life — he said, looking at each of the children. — If you try to back out, you will die.

Chaos erupted. Tommy began to cry, Amy was frozen with a look of fear, Caius remained on the ground, shocked, Rune and Dáhlia started screaming for help, Vincent seemed happy. And Mors was silent, analyzing everything that theater was offering, suspicious, piecing together the details.

— I already took it off. Sorry, but if you didn’t notice, you were about to fall down the stairs.

— How dare you speak to me like that?! — shouted Tommy, shrinking back in fear. — You freak. — The boy crawled away.

— Look here! — said Mors, enraged, grabbing Tommy by the collar. — I’m no different from you. The only freak here is your stupid prejudice, not to mention the fact that I just saved your life! — He let him go. — You think I didn’t notice you hiding from me since you first saw me?

Tommy laughed.

— I just don’t like being in the same place as a genetic freak.

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A punch echoed down the hallway, but it wasn’t from Mors; it was from Caius, which made Tommy even more terrified.

— You spoiled little bastard! — shouted Caius. — Learn to be human, you worm. The only genetic freak here is you!

Frightened, Tommy ran down the stairs, deliberately bumping into Mors. Caius huffed.

— Daddy’s little idiot — he muttered.

— I’m used to this kind of attitude — admitted Mors.

— You shouldn’t be — said Caius. — You’re as normal as anyone here. — Caius clenched his fist and looked at the stairs. — No disabled person is a freak... She’s not a freak.

— You have an unusual view of me — said Mors, intrigued. — But who is "she"?

— That doesn’t matter right now — replied Caius, calmly, in a way Mors hadn’t seen from him since they entered the theater. — What’s your name again?

— It’s Mors — he said, smiling. With a friendly gesture, the two shook hands.

— Mine is Caius. Well, we’d better go have dinner. The fool is probably waiting for us — Caius remembered, laughing as he recalled the earlier incident. — After all, we don’t want another balcony falling on our heads.

When they arrived on stage, Scura was already waiting for them. There was a large rectangular table with chairs arranged: three on each side and one at each end. Scura indicated the seats, and Mors took the one at the end, facing him.

Although he couldn’t see, Mors could smell the aroma of the dishes on the table: roasted chicken, sweet bread, rice with fruit, sliced ham, fresh salad, and cut oranges. It was a grand feast, making Mors doubt that Scura had prepared everything himself. After all, as far as he knew, there was no refrigerator, kitchen, or stove in the theater.

— You can eat, my dears — said Scura, smiling as he took a sip of blood-red wine. — It’s not poisoned. After all, these days, it’s hard to find a good poison.

The possibility of being poisoned, even if denied by Scura, left the seven feeling apprehensive about their plates. Then Vincent dove in, filling his plate with foods he may have never tasted before. Mors decided to serve himself too; after all, he was hungry, and if he was going to die poisoned, at least he would be full.

The girls started eating soon after, while Scura just watched. Tommy made a face of disgust, saying he had never eaten such terrible chicken in his life. This was strange for Mors and Vincent, who had never tasted anything so good in their modest lives.

— So... when will we start acting? — asked Vincent, with his mouth and belly full.

— Oh! Right after you wake up — Scura took a sip of his wine. — All your clothes and everything you need to live here until the end of the play has been placed on your beds, so don’t worry. The bathroom at the end of the second-floor hallway has also been fixed. And if you need me, I’ll be in the first room on the right, behind the stage wall.

— You seem to have thought of everything — said Mors, satisfied.

Scura smiled, a little of the wine dripping from his teeth, looking like real blood.

— Tomorrow, the play will begin. Be ready.

Mors went upstairs with Caius’s help, and in his makeshift balcony, he touched the clothes on his bed. These were not his old, worn clothes from the orphanage. They were new, neatly folded, and of good quality. This had taken the place of glasses as his best gift. Vincent also received, just like Mors, clothes, socks, and even a new toothbrush. Night fell in silence, and Mors slept, awaiting a play so important that it would determine his own wish.

Everyone woke up early, perhaps out of anxiety, just like Mors. Scura positioned each of them on stage by height and gender, boys first, girls beside them.

— I hope you all slept well. Now, let’s go to the first act of our play. Ready?

The children nodded.

— This act is called “Goodbye.”

A wave of nausea washed over Mors. The stage began to tremble, the Shadow Theater grew cold, and a chilling breeze coursed through his body. Something was forming in the red curtains of the place. Pieces of stone from the very debris of the destroyed theater were shaping what looked like a door.

— WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?! — shouted Caius, seeing the strange image forming before him.

Scura approached the door, turned the doorknob, and opened it, smiling. That black and shining image adorned the door, which didn’t lead to any room, but to something much larger. A powerful gust began to pull the seven youths into the portal. They moved toward it against their will, while Scura, who was closest, remained still.

— Scura?! — shouted Mors, trying to take steps back against the wind. — What the hell is this?!

The wind grew stronger, and some destroyed parts of the theater were pulled into the portal: a piece of wood, shattered granite, and even an armchair. The pieces of the curtain were ripped and drawn into that darkness. The pull intensified, and a button from the new shirt Mors had received flew toward the portal. Scura laughed wickedly, illustrating that apocalyptic scene. Tommy was the first; being weak, he couldn’t fight against the current of air and, screaming "Help!", was taken into the portal. Mors continued to struggle against the pull, growing stronger by the second. Amy was less than half a meter from the portal when she grabbed Dáhlia, pulling her into the darkness with her. An armchair was thrown toward Vincent, who, off balance, flew along with it into the portal. Rune, trying to hold onto the edge of the stage, was surprised when the piece of wood she was holding broke, and along with it, she disappeared into the portal.

— SCURA! — she screamed, flying into the portal. In a wrong movement, she hit the corner of the door and held on. She found herself in an infinite darkness surrounding her from behind. The wind knocked poor Caius off balance, sending him flying toward the portal over Mors. He quickly tried to grab his clothing, but it was futile; Caius was already far away and trapped in the vastness.

— NO! — shouted Mors.

The only one who hadn’t been taken was the boy, who with one hand held onto the edge of the door, separating him from an unknown fate.

— Now, the real play begins — said Scura, with the most terrifying smile he had given so far.

— SCURA! — That was Mors's last cry before his strength gave out and the infinite darkness swallowed him completely.