Kyrie stared at the children as they waved at him, their silhouettes disintegrating like wisps of smoke in the air. A profound sadness washed over him, a sense of finality that clawed at his heart. “What’s happening to them?” he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.
“Now that you have opened the Gate, they can finally die in peace and be reborn,” the cat replied, its tone both somber and reassuring. “They’re grateful to you.”
Behind the cat, three diffuse adult figures emerged, their forms indistinct and ghostly. Kyrie squinted, trying to discern their features, but the haze surrounding them blurred his vision. They sat on the ground, leaning against an invisible wall, their presence heavy with unspoken stories. As Kyrie looked at them, they returned his gaze with military greetings, a salute that echoed through the emptiness.
“They are Alexei, Valeriy, and Boris,” the cat continued, stepping aside to reveal them fully. “Three anonymous heroes of Pasovyshche.” A deep reverence filled its voice. “They sacrificed their lives heroically. When the Ottoman army invaded the city, they evacuated as many as possible and rescued countless souls from beneath the debris. They helped half the population flee, only to be shot to death by a battalion after their capture.”
Kyrie felt a wave of emotion wash over him, a mixture of admiration and sorrow. “Why are they still here?” he asked, his throat tightening.
“They are not dead, but they are not alive either,” the cat explained, its emerald eyes glimmering with wisdom.
“What do you mean?” Kyrie pressed, confusion swirling in his mind like a storm.
“In contrast to the children whose souls got trapped here after their deaths, I opened the Gate shortly after these men were shot while they still breathed. I brought them here, to save them from the fate that awaited them. But they cannot leave this place. If they do, they will die immediately, just as it happened to the children,” the cat turned back to stare at the men. “After years of being here, they now know who was to blame for the disaster.”
Kyrie’s heart sank at the weight of the revelation. “Why do I need to know about that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as if he feared the answer.
The cat regarded him with a mixture of pity and understanding. “Knowledge is power, Kyrie. It can guide you in your choices and illuminate the path ahead. These men carry the burden of their sacrifice, and through them, you will understand the truth of what transpired here. The past is not merely a collection of memories; it shapes the present and the future.”
As Kyrie absorbed the cat’s words, he felt a deep sense of responsibility settle upon him. He looked back at the three figures, their expressions solemn yet resolute. The weight of their sacrifice bore down on him, and he yearned to honor their memory.
“Tell me more,” Kyrie urged, his voice steadying. “What happened to this city?”
Alexei, a tall man with a strong build, stepped forward, his ghostly figure flickering like a candle in the wind. “We were just ordinary men,” he began, his voice echoing softly in the air, “but when the call came, we answered. We knew the risks, but we could not stand idly by while our people suffered. Our friends, our families—everyone was in danger.”
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Valeriy, with a rugged face that bore the scars of countless battles, continued. “We formed a plan, working through the night to gather those who could escape. We carried children on our backs, held the hands of the elderly, and fought through the chaos. But in the end, we were overwhelmed. They captured us as we tried to save the last few.”
Boris, the youngest of the trio, his eyes filled with youthful defiance, spoke next. “They shot us in cold blood.”
“But was it really an accident that wiped out the town?” Kyrie asked, his voice trembling.
“They shall not tell you yet, not until you see the Truth for yourself!” The cat waved its paw, and suddenly, a wooden gate materialized behind the men, adorned with intricate designs of the sun and the moon, swirling together in a cosmic dance. The sight filled Kyrie with both awe and trepidation. “On this occasion, I will give you a gift: the power of Bilocation!”
“Bilocation?” Kyrie echoed, confusion knitting his brow.
“When the time comes, you will know how to use it,” the cat assured him, its voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance.
In an instant, flabby, blackish arms wrapped around Kyrie, pulling him toward the insides of Gate. Panic surged through him, but there was no escape from the grip of the unseen force. The cat smiled, its eyes twinkling with a mixture of mischief and wisdom before he vanished into the darkness.
As the shadows enveloped him, Kyrie felt himself transported once more, returning to the familiar presence of the Baku. The creature’s smile reassured him this time, replacing his previous fear with a sense of calm. The Baku brought its eagle's beak to Kyrie’s forehead, and in that moment, a vision surged through him—a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors and images that filled him with an exhilarating power.
“Mexico?” he asked, his voice bursting with newfound understanding. He felt the weight of history pressing against him, the triumphs and tragedies of a civilization long past flowing through his veins like fire.
Then, abruptly, the vision faded, and Kyrie found himself lying on the cold stone steps in front of the cathedral. The world around him blurred, and time seemed to stretch and warp. Halyna knelt beside him, her expression a mix of fear and despair. He could hear her frantic whispers, the urgency in her voice slicing through the fog that clouded his mind. “Kyrie! Please, stay with us!”
His pulse decayed, each beat weaker than the last, and he felt as if he was drifting away, caught between the realms of life and death. Halyna's face swam before him, her features etched with concern. She leaned closer, her warmth radiating against his fading consciousness, and he wished he could reach out to assure her that he was still here, that he could feel her presence anchoring him to the world.
Yuri and another tourist rushed in, their faces pale with urgency. They lifted him gently, cradling him like a fragile relic. “Get him to the omnibus!” Yuri commanded.
The jolt of movement sent a shockwave through his body, but Kyrie remained blissfully unaware, slipping deeper into unconsciousness. Halyna climbed in beside him, her hand resting gently on his forehead.
As the omnibus rattled onward, Kyrie’s mind drifted in and out of consciousness, caught in a surreal dance between dreams and reality. He could hear the faint murmur of Halyna and Yuri discussing his condition, their voices laced with worry and urgency. “We have to get him to the trading post,” Halyna urged her tone a blend of desperation and resolve.
“I’m doing OK,” Kyrie grunted. “I just had a bad headache.”
Kyrie surrendered to the darkness, where visions of the past flickered like candle flames. He saw the children, their innocent faces glowing with joy as they danced around the merry-go-round in the amusement park. Their laughter still ringing in his ears.