She stood in front of him.
"Hey." She said.
The spirit stopped its repetitive movement.
Looked at her.
"What are you still trying to do?" She asked.
Silence.
Then the spirit showed her—not with words, but with a gesture. It raised its hand, pointing in a specific direction.
Blandina followed the direction with her eyes.
She saw: a wall. A corridor. And at the end of the corridor, a door that clearly hadn't been used in a very long time, darkened wood, rusted hardware, but closed.
"He wants to get there."
"And he can't because of the anchoring."
Seline arrived beside her in silence.
"He wants to go to that door." Blandina said.
"Then open the door." Seline replied.
"Just like that?"
"Not everything is complicated."
Blandina went to the door. She pushed, meeting the resistance of old wood that did not give easily—not because it was locked, but because of the weight of accumulated abandonment.
She pushed harder.
It opened.
