At that moment, he felt it. The pulse. Faint at first, then clearer, as if something beneath his skin had begun to move. Not like an ordinary motion, but like a response, as if the mark he bore had not been silent as he believed, but had been waiting. He slowly lowered his eyes, raised his hand to his chest, and pulled the cloth aside, revealing the eye. It was not merely a lifeless mark. It was present. Beating. Its light shifted slowly, as if breathing, as if responding to everything happening inside him. He did not look away. He kept staring at it, as though he knew what would come next would leave him no choice.
"No— not now…" he whispered quietly.
But the pulse did not stop. It only grew stronger, as if it had not heard him, or no longer answered to him. Then came the whisper, clear this time, close, as if it had risen from inside him and not from outside.
"Leave…"
Everything in him stopped for a moment. Then came the second whisper, deeper, heavier.
"Disappear…"
In that instant, there was no time to understand, because the vision began to form, not as one single image, but in fragments, flashes overlapping each other, not moving in a straight line, but knotting themselves together in a way that resisted order, as if they did not want to be understood, only felt.
He saw himself bend quickly, stretch out his hand, snatch up the two fruits without hesitation, wrap them in cloth, pull it tight around them, then turn, move away, leave—as though everything behind him no longer existed. Then the image shattered at once and changed. He was standing on the hill now, looking down, not moving, not reaching, only watching. And he saw Dan. It was not simply a sudden fall, but a moment of weakness, his hands losing their hold, his fingers slipping slowly, as if whatever strength had been keeping him there had run out. Then in one short instant, he lost it completely and began dropping down, while Kael remained above, only watching, not moving, not intervening, as though time itself had stopped at that point.
Then another image cut through, more fragmented, feet moving, people gathering, all of them up on the hill, every eye turned toward him—not toward the void, but toward him. Fixed on him. Refusing to let go. Among them stood Rhea, silent, still, but her gaze unmistakable, clear, steady, not passing over him without leaving its mark. Then the voice came, not from one direction, but several:
"Who are you, stranger…?"
It came again.
"Who are you, stranger…?"
As if the question itself were closing in on him, drawing nearer, leaving him no room to escape. Then all the images shattered suddenly and vanished, and everything returned to the way it had been.
The hut returned. The ground returned. The two fruits returned. But inside him, nothing was as it had been. His breathing came out heavy, his chest rising and falling quickly, his hand still near his chest, as if he had not fully stepped out of that moment yet. He needed a moment to return, to gather himself, to put back into order whatever remained of him. He lowered his hand slowly, stared at the fruits, then lifted his gaze slightly without turning his head.
"Either I leave…" he said inwardly. "…or…" But he did not finish, because he already knew the ending. He knew what would happen either way. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them, and when he did, he was no longer the same as he had been before. The hesitation had not vanished entirely, but it no longer ruled him the way it had.
At that same moment, the sound of footsteps arrived—close, quick, uneven. They drew nearer. He stopped, lifted his head at once, and knew. He did not need to see.
"She's here…" he said to himself.
Then he moved without hesitation. He bent quickly, reached down, snatched up one of the fruits, lifted it straight to his mouth, and bit into it before allowing himself the time to think again. The taste was not what struck him, but the feeling. A faint warmth bloomed in his chest, then spread quickly, into his arms, his legs, the tips of his fingers, as though his body had suddenly awakened, as though something missing inside him had begun to return. He clenched his fist and raised his hand before his eyes, looking at the mark. It was not full, but it was no longer still. It moved. It responded.
"This is enough…" he said quietly.
He reached for the second fruit, but stopped suddenly as the footsteps drew closer. He pulled his hand back quickly, retreated, returned to his place, and disappeared once more into the shadow. He held himself still, slowed his breath carefully, and turned his eyes toward the entrance.
Tina came in, breath broken, face pale, moving wildly, opening things, searching, overturning, muttering to herself without noticing anything around her.
"Where is the rope… where…"
Her voice shook, broken, and she moved fast, stopping for a moment only to begin again, as if she were trying to outrun time itself.
Kael stood where he was, still as though the ground had fastened his feet to it and kept him from moving. Not because movement was difficult, but because what was inside him had not yet settled. His eyes followed Tina as she moved around the hut in visible confusion. What she was doing was not an organized search, but a panic repeating itself. She opened a box and closed it without really looking inside. She turned toward one corner, then came back to the same place, as though she were circling inside her fear, not inside the room. Her breathing was broken. Her hands trembled. And with every moment that passed without her finding anything, that confusion only grew clearer.
He did not move.
He only watched.
Not with a cold gaze, but with one that understood what it was seeing. A child suddenly thrown into a moment that did not belong to her, a moment that required a calm mind and a swift decision, while all she possessed was fear. That understanding spread slowly through him. It was not new, but it was not easy either, because what he saw before him was not just a scene, but the reflection of something he knew.
He closed his eyes.
Not to flee, but to gather whatever clarity remained inside him. And in that short darkness, no images came. Only two words, clear and close, as though spoken at the same moment.
"Leave…"
The first passed through him slowly, as if offering him an easy road, one that demanded no effort and left behind no confrontation.
"Disappear…"
The second came quieter, but deeper. It did not urge him to go away, but to change himself. To remain, but unseen. Untouched. Unrecognized.
He did not open his eyes immediately. He stayed there a moment, thinking, not only of the two words, but of what each one meant. He did not stand before one complete choice, but two incomplete roads, and with every passing second one of them grew heavier.
"If I leave…"
The thought began to form inside him, but he did not finish it, because he already knew where it ended.
"And if I disappear…"
That one halted too, because disappearance alone solved nothing. It only opened a door that would require another step after it.