In Helios, the middle level, layers of mystic ritual enveloping it, flames burned in the narrow camp. The alchemists gathered expressionlessly around the fire, quietly gazing at the flickering light.
In the increasingly dense darkness, this was the only solace.
The only lighthouse amidst countless nightmares.
Yet just beyond the firelight, in the darkness, footsteps suddenly echoed, like cold rain tapping against the window in the winter night, so deep and crisp, carrying a chilling unease, gradually approaching.
The people before the bonfire raised their eyes, their expressions turning sombre, drawing weapons and aiming at the origin of the footsteps.
They saw a glimmer of light flickering in the darkness.
Gradually approaching, the outline becoming clearer.
It revealed the young man's appearance, smiling at them, waving, a wisp of blue smoke rising from the cigar at his lips.
A familiar scent drifted over.
In that instant, a faint sound of relief could be heard.
