Leo stood by the balcony in one of the countless rooms within the soaring citadel of Völundr. His attention was fixed on a small canvas perched on the windowsill. Instead of painting the leaden clouds outside, his skilled hand rendered the image of a revolver. As he completed the drawing, he peeled it away like a sticker, and it metamorphosed into a tangible firearm.
His gaze briefly shifted to the door. Just across the hallway, in a different bedroom, Anna lay in slumber, still adorned in the attire she had worn in New York. Leo cast his eyes toward the door, moisture gathering in them as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
With trembling hands, he placed the gun's cold barrel against his temple, his thumb cocking the hammer in a solemn dance with fate.
“Help... Help!” a voice, laced with desperation, cried out. “Help.”
The muffled pleas reached Leo's ears, causing him to clench the gun even tighter, his knuckles white with tension. It was a grip so fierce that the weapon itself broke. In an instant, it transmuted into a grayish ink that slipped from his grasp, leaving iridescent traces on his chest and face.
Leo left his room and crossed into Anna's. “Anna, are you alright?”
“Help,” she said. Then he forced the door open.
“Help...!” she screamed in the throes of her dream. “Please!”
Uncertain of how to alleviate her torment, he embraced her in his arms, a protective hug born of helplessness. A shiver coursed through him as if the same malevolence that tormented her now coursed through his veins, a shadowy specter that also cut his body without leaving any wounds or scars.
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For a fleeting moment, darkness engulfed him, the depths of her despair threatening to consume his own resolve. At that moment, he wept alongside her, his tears showing the anguish that had gripped them both.
“Wake up... please, I don't want you to die. I need you. Please!” His tearful pleas mingled with the whispers of her dreams, his tears falling like a gentle rain upon her troubled face.
Slowly, Anna's restless sleep yielded to tranquility, her once erratic breaths finding a steady rhythm. She lay there, her expression now serene, the storm within her calmed.
“How do you feel?” Leo asked, his voice a fragile echo of his earlier sobs. He didn't wait for an answer; instead, he found solace in the sight of Anna's peaceful sleep.
He lingered there, mere minutes that stretched into eternity, his eyes tracing the contours of her face, finding solace in her beauty.
“I'm glad you both get along so well,” a voice interrupted, shattering the fragile sanctuary of their moment.
Damon appeared on the balcony, overlooking Anna's bedroom. His words hung heavy in the air, tinged with sorrow and memories of days long past.
“Damon!” Leo exclaimed, blushing.
The pitiful figure on the balcony continued, his eyes closed in a private daydream. “It reminds me of Jarvia, but she died long ago.”
“What are you doing here? It's dangerous for you to be there. You could fall!” Leo's concern surfaced, and he let Anna rest on her pillow.
Leo could tell how Damon's expression shifted, as if not wanting to talk about the issue.
“Zak has betrayed us,” Damon disclosed, a deep furrow forming on his brow. “But something strange is happening with Alice. She’s acting weird. We must intervene because our creed is to achieve our dreams without causing harm to others.”
Leo's thoughts raced, his memory returning to their original mission. “Weren't we supposed to uncover D'Arc Janas' whereabouts and then journey to Africa? Why then Zak? I don’t get it. Wasn’t he one of us?”
“Yes, the Janas, Africa, Zak, yes!” Damon sighed heavily. “Everything is spiraling out of control now.”