When he woke up, Marc still had the book tightly clenched in his hand.
Elie hadn't even managed to take it from him.
Chris was leaning against the doorframe of Elie's house.
Catherine had seen a pretty blond guy with blue eyes enter her house and eventually agreed to let them all in.
"This one's better than the other, I hope."
Elie was looking out the window. Marc didn't feel like telling her everything. He looked traumatized and lost.
Chris entered the room as well.
"Wow. That's all I can say."
Elie shot him a harsh glare.
"Thanks, Chris."
He scratched the back of his head, a little embarrassed. The atmosphere in the room was heavy. And understandably so.
He paused for a moment before speaking again, his voice soft.
"So we got the second book. Can I ask..."
"They're supposed to represent the four horsemen of the apocalypse. One book for each. These books were written by someone called Lavoisi, supposedly. The thing is, it was written five thousand years ago, but Lavoisi dates back to about ten thousand years. Estimators can be wrong. Especially on something like this."
The boy looked confused.
"Who's Lavoisi?"
This time, it was Marc who answered.
"An author who showed up in the other world. I found one of his books on a trip there. A ruined castle and a library. Everything about it was strange. I think he knows a lot about what's coming. But his books are weird."
"Why?"
"I can't read them properly. Aside from the stories, anything that's supposed to tell the future gets written slowly into the book, like it's reflecting..."
Elie cut in to finish the sentence.
"What we're meant to know at the exact moment, not what we came to read."
"Exactly, Elie."
Chris was suddenly overcome with a feeling of dread.
"Is that really possible? I mean..."
"If you don't believe me, here. You're not going to like it."
Chris grabbed the book Marc had fought so hard to hold onto. He immediately felt its strange aura but couldn't see it. He opened it and started reading.
His relaxed face quickly twisted into a nightmare, as if he'd just read something horrifying. He dropped the book.
"No..."
"I told you. Just imagine what Rodrigo Sanchez must have read. I saw it in his eyes — he'd abandoned all rationality."
"No, that's impossible..."
"It's not, Chris. No matter what you read, it will happen, and it will destroy you. Whether from the inside or the outside."
Chris was in shock. Elie said nothing, and neither did Marc.
Silence fell over the room. A heavy, hellish silence.
Then Marc broke it, trying to sound confident.
"Well. That's enough for today. We can rest a bit. Read the books if you want. I'm heading home. Bye, Elie."
Elie looked at him with concern.
"You're not going to tell me what happened in there?"
"Maybe another time. Chris."
"What?"
Marc gave a slight smile, thinking of something mean to say to Chris. But he had nothing. His mind was still traumatized, and he couldn't even pretend to be in a good mood. In the end, he simply said:
"Don't get too depressed."
Marc left, leaving Chris and Elie in the room. As he walked down the street, he thought back to the terrible sensation the white beings had inflicted on him.
That song that made his soul vibrate, the little girl who was supposed to be dead but turned out to be a powerful being from the other world, the return of the Lady of the Ruins — this time as a savior — and the red world...
The world drenched in blood with countless weapons planted in the ground, all of them covered in red. An oppressive world where the sun took up half the horizon. A world where red reigned supreme.
"Was that really the other world? Or was it another world entirely?"
Then his thoughts drifted to the Lady of the Ruins. She was exactly as Lavoisi had described in his book.
"If it really is her, then all of Lavoisi's stories... Could he be the witness of history?"
Rain started falling again over Marc's village. He checked for any trace of the strange silhouette that had attacked them, but felt nothing.
Then he looked up into the rain to feel a few drops on his face. It felt good.
Elie watched the scene from her window. She was deeply worried about Marc but couldn't do much. Whatever had attacked them was far beyond their understanding.
During that day, she had seen the hands trying to drag Marc somewhere. She had rushed toward him, but hadn't managed to reach him before the white being with the gaping mouth let out a scream.
After the scream, Marc had disappeared. She searched for a long time around the house, trying to find the source of his aura, but saw nothing for a while—until a small black flame hovered strangely in the air.
Elie watched the flame and understood. It was Marc's aura, raging inside a closed space that didn't belong to this world, yet still existed within it.
She struck with her aura at the spot where, to her, he was supposed to be.
Chris had watched her hit the air for minutes. He thought she was crazy at first—until he saw the black flame growing exactly where she was focused. Yet despite her efforts, Elie struck in vain, and the flame eventually died out. Powerless, she collapsed to her knees on the debris.
Chris had also given up. But in one last burst of will, she stood up again and struck the spot where the flame had been with everything she had. Her aura surged, vaporizing everything around her.
He could only stand in awe. He was powerless, witnessing a raw, overwhelming show of determination. Elie kept striking furiously at what was clearly an invisible wall, screaming.
Suddenly, something cracked. It wasn't just the air—it was space itself breaking open. Cracks appeared from nowhere, spreading rapidly across reality.
Then, the place where Marc had been trapped revealed itself. She saw the corpses, the weapons, Marc, the Lady of the Ruins… and even the little girl who had burned in the fire.
"A...lie."
What followed, she could never forget...
She didn't know whether it was Marc who had taken down all those white beings—but judging by how violently his aura had erupted, there was little room for doubt.
Now, she watched her friend walk away. The one she considered her savior and protector—even though he hadn't fully become that yet—was standing in the rain, letting it fall on his head to relieve the weight on his shoulders.
He looked like he needed her far more than she needed him. And that was sad... Who saved the savior?
"Marc."
Elie knew he was probably feeling powerless... and so was she.
*
Chris drove home in silence. The rain fell on his blond hair as well.
What he had seen made him realize what was really happening in this world. It was beyond him—beyond all of them.
Even Marc, whom he had long envied, was depressed. He looked defeated and powerless. This wasn't the kind of life Chris wanted. This wasn't the sacrifice he wanted to make to surpass him.
Then, he remembered his own vision: the field of feathers stretching infinitely. Himself, laying in the middle, watching more feathers fall. He had felt strangely calm, oddly satisfied. At peace with himself. But he knew one thing... he was probably dead.
From the conversation they had, he now knew those were the feathers of the man in black—an entity that looked like a fallen angel.
Then, his mind wandered to the cathedral. He saw its ceiling—crystal with countless faces. His reflection stared back at him from every one.
His body was in a black coffin, the bottom covered in feathers. He had seen Elie looking at the coffin... and then nothing more. He was probably dead again.
None of this comforted him. None of it was what he wanted. He had spent the last days trying to ignore and forget. But now that he had seen all this...
"Marc... So this is what you went through to become who you are today."
He wasn't sure anymore if he still wanted to keep going.
*
Manon stepped outside to get some fresh air. She had a small terrace with an awning that allowed her to breathe a bit without getting wet.
The rain was falling heavily on the ground. It was almost a full-on storm, and she watched the grey clouds roll by to see if she needed to bring anything in.
She tried calling Chris, but he didn't answer. Another day spent doing nothing.
Manon hadn't been very productive lately. She spent most of her time either hanging out with friends or lying on her bed.
It was a pretty ordinary life.
She looked toward the back of her garden and suddenly saw someone coming out of the hedge in front of her.
A beautiful girl with blue hair calmly stepped out of the bushes and into her garden.
At first, Manon was confused. Then she wondered if this was some kind of joke. She didn't want to yell at such a pretty girl—maybe she was trying to go viral or something—but she clearly wasn't supposed to be there. So she walked up to her.
"Are you lost?"
Up close, the girl was even more beautiful.
Her face, though striking, carried subtle signs of confusion. Her brows were slightly furrowed, and her eyes scanned the surroundings with no recognition. She turned her head abruptly at times, like she was hoping to see a familiar street, a sign, something she recognized.
Her sea-blue hair, heavy with rain, clung to her neck and cheeks, framing her face like a living painting. Yes, she was beautiful—beautiful in a way that attracted attention without trying.
"Yeah, I think so."
Manon couldn't describe her voice. It was like a soft melody from the beach. It enchanted... intentionally.
"How did you end up in my garden?"
The girl looked even more confused.
"I don't know either. I just figured no one was around, so I came in."
Something about her words made Manon feel off. So, to lighten the mood, she joked:
"What, were you planning to rob me or something?"
"No. I just like visiting people's gardens."
Manon found the girl really strange, but ended up laughing. She could see herself doing something like that too—especially after a few drinks and a dare with her friends…
"What's your name?"
"Astra."
Stars sparkled in her eyes.
"That name's so cool."
"You think so?"
"Yeah. I wish I could change mine right now. With a name like that, you must be super popular. People must love you."
The girl turned her head to look at the sky. And with an innocent, thoughtful tone, she said…
"That's true. Where I'm from, they call me the Third Horseman of the Apocalypse. Astra, the Natural Disaster."
It took Manon a moment to process what she had just heard—then she started to panic.
"What?!"
She stepped back. The atmosphere had suddenly shifted. Astra was still smiling sweetly, but Manon couldn't understand.
"The Natural Disaster?"
Astra smiled again, eyes narrowing.
"Yes. And it's strange that you didn't notice. Weren't you supposed to be with Marc Zeymond?"
Manon shivered all of a sudden.
"You know Marc?"
Nothing made sense anymore. She took another big step back and tried to call the police—but Astra caught her, gripping her by the throat. Manon found herself hanging in the air, held up by the hand of a girl she didn't even know.
"Let me go!"
"You have no aura. You don't even seem able to sense it. Are you a failure? Even the handsome blond guy with blue eyes was better."
Manon realized she was talking about Chris.
"You're not even worth killing. Anyway, I usually take out multiple people at once."
Astra lifted Manon and threw her into the house. She crashed through the glass doors and landed on her couch, completely unconscious.
"Goodbye, trash."