Everything is still… but stillness does not exist.The dead field dissolves into shapes that should not exist: the sky bends, shadows crawl upwards, and bodies twist in a ballet of flesh and bone.The knife still bleeds in my hand, and I feel each drop is a word my daughter never spoke, a lament the Man with the Harmonica turned into melody a hundred years ago.
I search for him, and I find him, floating between air and earth, as if he does not know gravity. His harmonica vibrates without a touch, and the sound tears memories from all who fell, all who lived and died in the name of an impossible order.
He speaks without speaking, his gaze piercing my thoughts:
"If you break the thread that binds you, everything collapses.If you keep it… you will survive… but the world will pay."
The entire field becomes an extension of his harmony:decapitated cows floating in impossible circles, grass turning to flesh, and bodies writhing like percussion instruments.Each step I take is a macabre chord.The sky rains ashes, and my daughter's memories blend with the victims of the Man with the Harmonica.
I must decide.Instinct pushes me to hold the thread.Fear pushes me to break it.Pain pushes me to close my eyes and let the world vanish with me.
Then, suddenly… my daughter's voice resonates inside me:
"Daddy… only you can choose who lives and who dies. But remember: not all heroes carry the truth with them."
The Man with the Harmonica vanishes, and the world collapses.I remain alone in a space with no edges, no sky, no earth:a void between worlds where my blood mingles with the memories of the dead, and the melody of his harmonica is the only thread keeping me anchored to anything that can still be called reality.
I know I must act.I know I must survive.But I also know that every decision will lead others into the same abyss I crossed…and that perhaps… the only way to save anything of this world is to become what I fear most.