The day dawned with a deceptive calm. People walked through the city as if
nothing had happened the night before; some spoke of the strange crack in the sky
with nervous smiles, others mentioned it in hushed tones as if uttering its name
might summon it back. But for Jacob and his family, the calm was merely the
prelude to something greater. The house smelled of stale coffee and nameless
fears; Rebecca was still asleep, and Daniel avoided looking out the window at the
street as if he feared his uncle's empty figure might appear again.
Rick entered the kitchen with the newspaper rolled up, his eyes puffy from lack of
sleep. This man, usually so used to practical courage and jokes that relieved any
tension, now wore an expression that brooked no laughter. There was an inner
tension in his face, like someone who had stared too long into an abyss.
"You haven't slept," Jacob said without greeting, his gaze fixed on his
friend.Rick left the newspaper on the table and poured himself some
coffee, taking large gulps.
"I couldn't," he replied. "I've had dreams... and they're not the usual ones."
Jacob took the cup they offered him and held it in his hands as if the heatcould
repair something inside him.
"What did you see?" he
asked. Rick hesitated for a
moment.
—Silhouettes on the walls. Voices reciting names like broken prayers. And then…
your name. Always your name. I saw you walking, and beside me there was a
shadow smiling at me with the mouth of a dead man. —He paused—. And Robert. I
saw him with empty eyes, as if he had given his soul back to someone. He was…
sad. And proud at the same time. And there was a phrase that kept repeating:
"envy opens the door." I didn't understand it, Jacob. Not until now.
Jacob placed the cup on the table with a dry thud.
"My father used to tell us about it when we were children," he said softly. "About
the pact. That if the test returned, it wouldn't come alone. And that the first
crack always appears between those who think they own everything. Robert always
wanted everything."
Rick dried his face with the back of his hand."I went to the temple this morning," he said. "I spoke with Father Samuel. I wanted
him to tell me…"He said it was all superstition. That they were dreams born of
collective fear. But when I told him about Robert, his hands closed around the
missal and for the first time I saw him sweat.
"What did he say to you?" Jacob asked.
"He said he'd noticed strange movements in the city, and that in the sacristy
they'd found broken glass, as if ripped from an ancient altar. That someone had
left marks on the chapel floor, symbols he didn't recognize. And that… that it
wasn't a good idea to ring the bells now." Rick shook his head. "He asked me not
to say anything to anyone without preparing myself. He said that spirits test as
much through the visible as through the invisible. That evil prefers to disguise itself
as family."
Jacob clenched his fists. Beside him, Sara listened with her jaw tight.
"Do you think Robert…?" Sara began, and didn't finish.
"I believe it," Rick said. "And the worst part is this: last night, before I woke up, I
had the feeling that something touched my house. Not with hands, but with
intention. Like someone who appreciates a piece of art before deciding to break
it."
"Did he go in?" Jacob asked.
"I don't know," Rick replied. "When I opened my eyes, everything was in its place.
My wife was sleeping peacefully. My children, too. But in the kitchen, I found a
wet footprint in the dust, as if someone had walked by with bare, wet feet. There
was no forced entry, no broken window. Just… a footprint."
A sharp bang echoed on the door, rattling the glasses on the shelf. Jacob and
SaraThey looked. Daniel peeked into the hallway, looking sleepy. Rebecca, who
had been asleep, sat up suddenly and said in a small voice:
—I see him. He's here.
Sara hugged her tightly.
—Don't say that, love. Don't repeat it.
Rebecca rested her head on her mother's shoulder and murmured:
—He's hungry.
Silence became a blanket covering the house. Jacob closed his eyes, remembering
thea voice he had heard in his mind the night before: "The test has been
granted."That afternoon Jacob went to the office. It was a necessary routine: reviewing
documents, talking to clients, appearing firm so the company wouldn't see its
leader falter. But the routine was soon broken. An email arrived bearing his
sealEmployer: URGENT: Audit and temporary suspension of contract.
The text was a succession of cold, technical terms: suspected fraud in a project,
frozen accounts, internal investigation. The company needed to protect itself.
Jacob read the words and felt his walls crumble one by one. Not because the
accusations had any basis: they didn't. The evidence appeared out of nowhere:
altered documents, forged signatures. Everything he had built over years was
called into question by the simple magic of papers that changed their weight.
He called his boss, who answered with voices that didn't sound like the ones he
had heard.Earlier in the office: caution, distance, a sudden need to take
refuge. They asked her not to speak to anyone about the case. They
recommended she reduce her public presence. It was too late: the news was
already circulating through internal emails.
"I can't believe it," Jacob murmured as he stepped outside. "Who would
do this?" Rick followed him with purposeful steps.
"Whoever wants to break you," he said. "Whoever asked permission up above."
Jacob clenched his jaw and looked up at the sky. The light of the setting sun had a
pale, almost pale, hue.Ashy. A group of crows flew overhead, forming a seal of
darkness that took seconds to dissipate.
"If this is part of the test," Jacob said, "I don't accept it. Not
like this." Rick tapped him on the shoulder.
—We need to be smart. There are people who look at you suspiciously now. Don't
trust every contract, keep backups, talk to lawyers who aren't dependent on… on
the usual practices.And above all, protect your family.
Jacob thought of Sarah and the children. He thought of his father and the stories
he had been told as a child; he thought of Job, of broken patience, of faith put to
the test. He wanted to scream to avoid feeling the weight falling upon him, but he
did not.That night, Rick walked slowly home. His footsteps echoed in streets that were no
longer the same. Every shadow seemed to lengthen intentionally. He thought of
the footprints in his kitchen, Father Samuel's sweaty missal, the crack in the sky
that still opened and closed in his memory.
Upon arriving, he turned off the porch light and looked toward his wife's window.
She was already asleep.placid. The children too. Rick felt a fierce love for them,
the kind of love that makes you make irrational decisions.
He entered quietly, closed the door, and turned on a small lamp on the table.With an
impulsive gesture, she placed the car key on the floor and sat down. She opened a
bottle of water, drank it in large gulps, and for a moment the house seemed safe.
She leaned back in the chair, closed her eyes, and thought about Jacob. She had to
take care of him. She had to prepare him.But he also thought about his own house,
the wet footprint in his kitchen, the feeling of having been watched.
Rick forced himself to breathe calmly. He told himself it was just fear, nothing
more. That his mind was playing tricks on him during sleepless nights. He told
himself that he would wake up refreshed the next day, and that it would all have
been just a bad dream.
He got up, turned off the lamp, and walked towards his room.
When her head touched the pillow, she heard a whisper that didn't come from
outside. It wasclear, intimate, as if they were speaking to him from inside his skull.
"Don't sleep," said the voice. "Leave the door open."
Rick opened his eyes, tensed his muscles, and remained motionless.
For a moment she thought about turning on the light. Then she remembered
Father Samuel's missal, the priest's trembling hands, his plea for discretion. She
remembered the footprints in the dust and the repeated phrase: envy opens the
door.
He took a deep breath, telling himself that he would overcome the night, that it was
just another test.
He covered himself with the blanket, closed his eyes tightly… and sleep overtook him
in the blink of an eye.
The darkness in the house closed in as if someone had drawn a curtain. Shadows
moved without wind, and a cold, patient presence stood by the bed, watching,
waiting.
Rick began to dream again.
And in his dream, the figure that was looking at him smiled at him with the mouth of a dead man