As he ran, he glimpsed the girl again, her shape ethereal against the fading sunlight. He sprinted after her, the adrenaline coursing through his veins until he found himself back at the synagogue, an area that was dense with residential buildings. The girl led him inside an apartment building, the door creaking as he entered.
The state of the structure overwhelmed him. Crumbling walls loomed, closing in around him like a tomb. Kyrie climbed the stairs to the third floor. He pushed open the door to an apartment, the hinges protesting in a mournful creak. The floor lay scattered with shards of glass and splintered wood, remnants of a life once lived. Dust coated every surface, settling like a blanket over the memories this place had held.
He stepped into one of the bedrooms—the children’s room. Two small beds faced each other, their blankets faded and rumpled, a small path leading to a window that looked out onto the desolate street below. He approached the window, the glass grimy and cracked, and peered out. The sight of the town struck him like a blow to the chest. A long, empty avenue stretched before him, its cobblestone cracked and crumbling. In the middle of that desolation, the children stood, their figures small and fragile, seemingly calling out to him.
Kyrie turned abruptly, an overwhelming sense of urgency flooding through him like a tidal wave. In his haste, his foot connected with something soft and yielding on the floor. He looked down, his breath catching in his throat as he saw a doll, its porcelain face cracked and smeared with dust. “Was this their home home?” he murmured, the words barely escaping his lips. A voracious desire to pick the doll up surged within him, a compulsion to reclaim a piece of lost innocence, but he hesitated. Instead, he turned away, leaving the building behind him, the doll’s haunting presence lingering in his mind.
Once outside, he found himself at a crossroads, the buildings towering around him. The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating, igniting a fire of frustration within him. His arm throbbed again, and he felt madness creeping in, gnawing at the edges of his sanity.
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In a moment of desperation, he screamed, the sound tearing from his throat like a wounded animal. The rawness of his voice echoed off the walls, reverberating in the still air. He pulled off his clothes with difficulty, the fabric clinging to his skin, and stared at the S-shaped tattoo-like markings that traversed his body. He fell to his knees, the cold ground biting into his skin as he looked up to see the children standing next to him, their faces frozen in expressions of mute concern. Realization washed over him like a wave; he was at the doorsteps of the cathedral.
Everything around him turned white, a blinding light that obscured his surroundings. In that haze, a familiar figure emerged—a black cat, sitting calmly before him. “It’s interesting to see you again here,” the cat said.
“What?” Kyrie gasped.
“You’ve found another Gate!” the cat declared, its voice smooth and alluring.
“Why is it here?” Kyrie asked, confusion swirling in his mind.
“The Ottomans and Russians sought the Gate, believing it to be hidden in this area. They fought for this territory, driven by the knowledge of its power, at least according to some of the Thaumaturgists who led their armies. Neither the average population nor the soldiers knew anything. They were aware that the Gate was nearby and thought to harness its power to secure victory in the war between the two empires. Fortunately, they never discovered its exact location, nor did they manage to exploit it. Then came the chemical accident that wiped out the town.”
The cat approached Kyrie, lifting a front paw. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the soft fur, and a wave of relief washed over him. “The children are grateful to you!” the cat continued, its voice warm and soothing.
Kyrie turned around, and there they were—the two children, standing a distance away, their spectral figures shimmering in the dim light where he and the cat rested. They watched him with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. “They both discovered the Gate and opened it by mistake while playing,” the cat explained, its gaze fixed on the children, a mix of pride and pity in its eyes. “They’ve been trapped here ever since.”