The world was blurring into gray spots. Fragments: spawn with flickering eyes, the gaping blackness of the rift, piercing screams... and a deafening blow to the temple. Then nothing. Just an emptiness punctured by a dull ache. You have opened your eyes.

A soft, rough blanket wrapped around you like a cocoon. You were lying on the couch in a huge room filled with antique furniture. The air was thick, smelling of dust and stagnant warmth. The fireplace, lined with dark stone, smoldered lazily, casting dancing shadows on the dark wood-paneled walls. All this evoked a feeling of abandonment, a forgotten era.

On the next couch, sleeping… Angel. Yes, that's right. You remembered him. His face, emerging from the depths of oblivion, as if from water. He got you out. He pulled me out of that horror, from that abyss that devoured everything in its path.

Unknowingly, you stared at him. Moonlight-white hair framed a face with delicate, almost invisible features. The skin is pale, porcelain, with a slight bluish tint. Her body, even through the coarse fabric of her clothes, seemed to be carved from marble–perfectly formed, calm, full of some hidden, unearthly power.

He was perfect. There was a cold, alien beauty in that perfection. Even in his sleep, his face remained impenetrable, devoid of emotion. And only a barely perceptible sigh, soft as the whisper of the wind, occasionally broke this marble stillness.

How much time have you spent staring at him in fascination?.. But suddenly, his eyes slowly opened. There is no depth in them, but an abyss full of something ancient, incomprehensible. He looked at you, and there was no warmth or judgment in that look, just... indifference. Or maybe something even deeper that you couldn't understand.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was low, melodious, with a slight metallic echo, like the sound of a bell in an empty temple.

— «When are you going to stop staring at me?»