The tower stopped with a slight jolt at the foot of the hill. A gentle click let Christian know that the door was open. He looked up at his brothers, both of whom had dried up tears on their cheeks. He was forced to close his eyes as he felt the sting of tears welling up and threatening to leave his body.

“Come on, we’ve got to hurry,” Christian said. His voice sounded choked, as if something in his throat prevented him from speaking. He cleared his throat, but the pressure was not relieved in the least.

The young man stretched out his hand, his little finger adorned with his mother’s ring, and pushed the door open gently, opening it to the outside world in a quiet whisper. Christian bent down—the tower was lying sideways at the foot of the hill−and slipped through the open door, his bare feet shaking as he encountered the cold wetness of the pavement. The rain, at least, had subsided.

As Ana and Alexis joined him, Christian couldn’t help but cast a glance up the hill. The castle stood strangely lopsided after having lost one of its towers. It seemed to him that the wind was bringing him blows, noises, voices, which escaped from the open windows. He shuddered as he turned around. His siblings watched the castle as well, their shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Let’s go,” Christian said, holding Ana’s hand and squeezing Alexis’ shoulder, taking his siblings down the street and into the city.

“Where are we going?” Anna asked, letting go of her brother’s hand and stopping in her tracks.

“To a friend of Mum and Dad’s,” Christian said simply, walking at full speed, his footsteps echoing in the dense darkness interrupted at intervals by the dim light of the streetlights.

The three went into the practically deserted city, its inhabitants resting peacefully in the quiet of their homes. Christian led Ana and Alexis through Main Street, at the end of which stood a large square decorated with a statue of a woman holding a book in her left hand and a sword in her right.

When they reached the square, they turned right into Tower Street, leaving the high school behind, crossing the park, the bridge over the river and a second square.

There, next to the old orphanage, stood a small house. The white façade contrasted with the bright scarlet of the door. The three of them, panting—they’d been practically running during the last stretch—stopped in front of the door.

“Is this it? Is this where Mum and Dad’s friend lives?” Ana asked, new tears replacing the old ones at the mention of her parents.

“This is it.”

The young man took a deep breath and stretched out a finger to the doorbell. The strident sound echoed in Christian’s bones. He held back a chill.

Inside the house, no one seemed to be willing to open the door. Christian looked at his siblings before ringing again. This time, they could hear a series of thuds, accompanied by a woman’s voice which increased in volume as she started to approach them.

With great impetus, the door opened wide.

“It’s four o’clock in the morning! What’s going on?” the woman spat. She was tall and very thin. Her coppery hair was all tangled, and flowed beyond her shoulders, and through her swollen, squinty eyelids there were two shimmering grey irises that glared at the three people in front of her.

“I’m sorry. Anastasia?”

“Yes, it’s me.” The woman rubbed her eyes and looked at the three siblings properly for the first time. She looked at their faces, in silence, her eyebrows arching, lips parting in a stupefied expression.

“We are…”

“Christian, Ana and Alexis. Sarai’s and Victor’s children,” Anastasia mused, holding a hand to her chest. “Come in, quickly.”

The woman stepped aside and Christian gently pushed his brother and sister into the house. They found a small hall with two locked doors on one side and a narrow, dark corridor on the other.

“Come,” she said, opening one of the doors, which led to a room, mostly occupied by a sofa, a coffee table and a tiny cupboard on which sat a small television.

Anastasia pointed toward the sofa and the three brothers occupied it. The woman left the room for a few minutes, only to return carrying a tray on which rested four steaming cups. She gave one cup to each of the brothers, keeping the fourth one for herself. Then, she went to the cupboard and pulled out a square wooden stool from one side. She placed it next to the coffee table and sat on it, her gaze fixed on the three youths.

“What is it?” Ana said, eyeing her cup suspiciously.

“It’s just an infusion of valerian and linden. It will help you to relax and get some sleep tonight.”

Christian took a sip and the burning liquid flooded his body almost instantly with a soothing feeling. Ana and Alexis drank as well.

“What happened?” Anastasia asked.

Christian explained how his mother had woken him up in the middle of the night, how he had confronted the creatures with the help of his parents and how the tower had come loose from the castle, driving them away from their home.

“I didn’t think it would happen so soon,” Anastasia said.

“You knew?” Alexis asked. “You knew our parents were going to…?”

“Yes, and your parents knew it too,” Anastasia explained.

“Me too,” Christian admitted, “although they never explained why the creatures were coming.”

“You knew!?” Alexis repeated, his voice rising.

“Yes, Alexis… Mum told me years ago that one day this would happen. She also told me that, when it happened, we would have to come here, with Anastasia, because she would be able to help us.”

Anastasia nodded. Alexis, eyes red, looked alternately at her brother and the woman. Ana, meanwhile, wiped her tears with her shirt.

“So, we’re going to have to stay here?” Alexis said. Christian nodded. “What about Mum and Dad?”

“Alexis… Mum and Dad…” Christian tried to say.

“They are not dead,” Alexis interrupted. “Don’t you say it. They aren’t dead.”

“Boys,” Anastasia said, “you must be tired. Why don’t we try to get some sleep? It’s not a big house, but there’s an empty room. Before that, though, Christian, let me heal those cuts.”