As the sun rose over the empire, deep beneath the Emperor's palace, a shadowy figure crept through the dim corridors. His clothes were tattered and old, his face obscured beneath a hood of rough cloth. In his hand, he held a lantern glowing with a flickering green flame — a flame that seemed almost alive, dancing as though it breathed.
The man moved with cautious, trembling steps, glancing constantly over his shoulders, as if afraid of being seen.
Yet something was strange — his flame cast no shadow.
He reached a vast underground chamber filled with spiraling stairways, each leading to a different sealed door. He descended deeper and deeper, farther than any ordinary man should dare to go, until he came before a massive door without locks, carved with symbols and runes from an ancient tongue.
The green light in his lantern flared suddenly, its glow reflecting off the strange carvings.
He whispered, almost reverently:
> "So… this is the place at last."
He murmured words — faint, incomprehensible — and the door creaked open on its own. He stepped inside, and the flame's glow intensified, spreading into the suffocating dark. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him.
He smiled beneath the hood and muttered to himself:
> "The true board… it lies here."
Before him stood an enormous black king piece, around which coiled a white serpent — a perfect mirror to the Emperor's council chamber above, where the white king bore a black serpent.
As the eerie light filled the room, it illuminated a corner long forgotten, revealing a shattered mirror.
---
At that same hour, in the Emperor's bedchamber...
The Emperor tossed and turned in his silk sheets, his breathing heavy and uneven — trapped in a nightmare that felt too real.
He dreamed of an empire in flames.
His crown lay drenched in blood,
his robes were torn,
and his sword was driven into the throne itself.
Before him stood a figure shrouded in shadow, silent and faceless. Shards of a broken mirror glittered across the floor, catching the light of the burning palace.
He woke with a violent gasp — drenched in sweat, his pulse racing, eyes wide with terror.
He stumbled to the table for water, but his hands trembled so fiercely that the glass slipped and shattered. His voice quivered as he whispered to himself:
> "The mirror… not the mirror… No one must touch it but me… Frea…"
Disoriented and frantic, he burst from his chamber, startling the royal guards. They asked if he was alright, but he ignored them — his eyes wild, as though haunted by something unseen.
---
Meanwhile, in the village of Kazbona…
Diana was tending to an injured boy who had hurt his leg while playing in an abandoned house. The child's leg was broken, yet he did not cry — his blank, hollow gaze fixed silently upon her as she worked.
When she finished and prepared to leave, an old woman leaning against the wall called out to her:
> "Girl… thank you for tending to my grandson. Among our kind, to heal the heir is no small deed — you shall be rewarded."
Diana frowned, puzzled by the woman's strange words, but smiled politely and left without asking further.
---
As she walked along the dusty road leading to the edge of the village, the breeze played through her hair. Ahead, she saw Frank, carrying a heavy bundle of firewood on his back, his steps steady but weary.
She greeted him warmly. He smiled faintly — a tired smile, yet with a spark of hope still alive in his eyes — and they continued walking together.
Frank: "In times like these, you're the only one still helping people for free. Gold means nothing now — people trade food for favors."
Diana (smiling): "It's my duty. I'm the only healer left… and don't forget whose daughter I am."
Frank (chuckling): "Ah yes — Dags' daughter. A rare girl indeed. Most men your age are too afraid to lift a finger… and most fathers would've wanted a son, not a daughter who shames them with her strength."
She blushed slightly at his words but laughed softly. As they walked, she kept stealing small, shy glances at his face. The question that had haunted her for years pressed at her lips.
Finally, she gathered her courage.
Diana: "Mr. Frank… may I ask you something that's always puzzled me?"
Her voice was hesitant, her eyes downcast. Frank looked at her, already sensing where her question was heading.
Diana: "Who are you? How did you come to our village? Where is your family? Do you have children? Even when I ask my father about you… he never answers."
Frank sighed deeply. He didn't know how to respond.
He remained silent — his expression distant, his eyes heavy with memories too painful to speak. Diana realized then that there was something different about him, something inhuman in the quiet strength that seemed to surround him.
They continued in silence until they reached a cottage, where Frank delivered the firewood without another word.
---
Elsewhere — at the site of the Collapse, as the sun began to set, soldiers were ordered to camp near the ruins. The night was unnervingly still.
One of the sentries, standing guard by the treeline, noticed movement — a flicker of something sliding between the trees of the Black Forest.
Then came the whispers — faint, distorted, carried by the wind:
> "Who dares…?"
"He is coming…"
A chilling sound followed — the hiss of a serpent, low and rattling.
The guard's heart pounded in terror. Before he could call out, darkness swallowed the edge of the forest, and the whispers… grew closer.