The door began to open slowly, and a faint sound rose from the wood, a sound that might have passed as ordinary in a still night, but to Kael, it was not ordinary at all. It was enough to pull all his nerves tight at once. He lifted his eyes toward the door immediately, then his gaze shifted quickly to the opposite wall, where the shadows were thicker than the light slipping from the window. He had no time to spare, and no other choice, and yet his hands did not move at once. For one very brief moment, he stayed where he was, as though his body had betrayed him, as though fear had frozen him in place.
Then he looked at his hand.
The mark.
Its light was so weak it was alarming—dim, trembling, unable to remain steady, as though it was about to die out at any moment. Kael felt his throat go dry, and his heart begin to beat faster than it should, not because he was afraid of Ria alone, but because in that moment he understood that what remained in this mark was not much, and that if he failed now, there would be nothing left to support him afterward.
He tightened his fingers slightly and raised his hand toward the wall, then whispered in a low, strained voice, barely escaping from between his lips:
"Just once... only once."
Nothing happened.
The light remained as it was, pale and trembling, unresponsive. It did not flare up. It did not vanish.
The door opened wider, and with it Kael's confusion deepened. He looked at the mark again, and in his eyes there was a pleading he did not want to admit.
"Not now... please, not now."
He pressed his palm against the stone and tried again, this time in a more tense voice:
"Let the shadows take me... do not let anyone see me..."
But at first, nothing happened. The light did not change, and he did not feel that faint pulling sensation that usually came before he disappeared. He remained exactly as he was—present, weak, exposed.
And the moment the door opened wider, Kael felt time slipping through his fingers. He moved closer to the wall until he was almost pressed fully against it, and raised the mark before his eyes as though he were speaking to it directly—not as magic, but as the last thing he could hold on to.
"Just once... do it now... then die out if you want, but not now."
The light trembled.
It trembled once, weakly, then dimmed, and despair nearly struck his chest.
But before hope could collapse entirely inside him, the light shook again, this time faster, closer to short, rapid flickers, and with it Kael felt something changing around him, as though the air near him had lost its steadiness, and as though the shadow stretching across the wall had grown deeper, heavier, closer to him.
He understood immediately that the magic had finally responded.
He did not wait.
He pressed his body against the wall, and his voice dropped into one last whisper:
"Let me disappear."
And in that same moment, his presence began to fade. It was not a complete disappearance, nor a comfortable one, but a weary dissolving, as though the shadow was pulling him toward itself with difficulty, as though his very existence was being erased in a hesitant way that only completed itself by sheer strain. His features faded first, then the edges of his body dimmed, until he looked like part of the darkness—not completely separate from it, but melted into it.
At that exact moment, the door opened.
Rhea finally stepped out.
She did not step out quickly, but with alert calm, as though she did not want to deceive herself. She first stood at the threshold and looked straight ahead, then to her right, then to her left, then lifted her gaze slightly toward the walls and the shadows stretching between the houses. The alley was quiet, still, and the night still held some of its faint coolness. The air moved gently through the narrow passageways, carrying with it distant sounds from inside the houses, slight movement, wood creaking now and then, and leaves shifting wherever the wind reached them.
In the shadow, Kael could see her clearly.
He saw how her eyes moved between the walls, and how she remained alert despite the stillness of the place. He was closer to her than he should have been, and much weaker than he should have been. If she had taken just one more step, or if the magic had broken a moment earlier, everything would have ended here.
His tension tightened even more, because in that moment he was no longer hidden as he should have been. He could feel the shadow itself trembling around him, and that his presence was no longer steady within it as it had been in the first second. He was afraid she would look directly at him. Afraid that the trembling light would continue to expose him.
But the truth he did not run from in that moment was clearer than anything else:
He had not remained there only because the magic had delayed.
He had remained because he was looking at her.
He had remained because, despite all the fear and exhaustion inside him, he wanted to understand who this girl was, and what the nature of this place was that he had entered. He was looking out of caution, yes, but caution was not all it was. There was something in him closer to curiosity, something that made him linger one second longer, then another, until now he was trapped between the wall, the night, and his own weakness.
Rhea said in a low voice, as though speaking to herself:
"Hmm... was I imagining it?"
A moment later, Zina stepped out from inside, still carrying a trace of drowsiness, but she noticed her sister's stance at once.
She said in surprise:
"What are you doing out here?"
Rhea did not turn to her immediately. Her eyes kept moving along the alley, between the walls, and through the shadows lying between the houses.
"I felt something."
Zina stepped a little closer to her.
"What thing?"
Rhea answered after a short pause:
"As if someone was watching me."
Zina looked at the place as well, but she saw nothing. Everything was as it had been—still houses, an empty alley, a quiet night.
"There's no one here."
Rhea was silent for a moment, and the tension did not leave her eyes.
"Maybe."
Zina said in a calmer tone:
"You're tired, Rhea. Since morning, you've been moving among the people, then the celebration, then that sound in the forest... it's natural for things to become mixed in your mind."
Rhea breathed slowly, but she did not seem fully convinced.
"Maybe it was exhaustion... but I did not like that feeling."
Zina smiled faintly, with something of the familiar tenderness between the two sisters.
"And that is exactly why you need sleep. Come on, we still have a lot of work tomorrow."
Rhea remained there for a few more seconds, looking at the place as though she were trying to pull an answer out of it. Then at last, she turned and went back inside with her sister. Before she disappeared, she cast one last glance, brief, but enough to make Kael feel that one more second of hesitation would have cost him everything.
The door closed.
And the light returned inside.
Kael did not move immediately. He remained caught in the shadow for a few moments, not because he wanted to, but because he felt that the power hiding him had begun to weaken quickly, faster than expected, as though what he had drawn from the mark had been the last thing left inside it. He felt the heaviness returning to his limbs, and the air touching his skin again. Then the weak light in the mark trembled one last time.
One flicker.
Then a weaker flicker.
Then—
It went out.
Kael kept staring at it for a moment, his eyes fixed on it, as though waiting for it to return, to give him just one sign, but nothing happened. The mark was completely dormant now, cold, empty of any response.
He lowered his hand slowly.
"It's over..."
He said it in a low voice, but it was not the voice of surprise. It was the voice of someone who had known this moment would come, only he had not wanted it to come now.
He closed his hand around the mark, lowered it, then raised his gaze toward the alley stretching ahead of him. He no longer had anything to rely on except his caution.
He breathed slowly, and arranged his steps in his mind before moving.
"From now on... without magic."
He said it to himself, not as a complaint, but as a decision.
He pushed himself away from the wall and began to walk—slowly, carefully—choosing the places of shadow, stopping at every sound, and moving forward only when he was sure the path was clear.
That moment was the beginning of something simpler... and more dangerous at the same time:
To survive with his mind alone.