The setting sun was sinking towards the horizon, casting soft shades of blue and gray across the sky, slowly forcing shadows to cover the surroundings. The air was cool, rich with the scents of moisture, earth, and flowers, mixed with the subtle scent of leaves swaying slightly in the wind. The lake by which they sat calmly reflected the colors of the sky, occasionally cut by light waves, as if the water itself sighed at the touch of the breeze. There's a calmness all around, which was very different from that chaotic, noisy Redgrave. The wind carried with it the smell of the approaching night, cool and fresh, mixing with the echo of the passing day. Somewhere in the treetops behind him, a shadow crept silently - perhaps an owl or just a ghost of thoughts. Vergil didn't paid attention. His gaze was fixed on the lake, on those endless concentric circles which spread across its surface of the water from the occasional drop or a fish that jumped from its depths.

Vergil stared at this picture in silence, allowing himself a rare moment of peace. He felt the tension slowly drain from his shoulders, like water draining from a sword after a battle. The fatigue wasn't weakness - it's a natural consequence of the path he'd taken. His hands, usually tightly gripping the hilt of his scabbard, now lay calmly on his knees, his fingers moving slightly as if testing this peace.

The moment dragged on, and Vergil was in no hurry to interrupt it. He thought about the past, about the future, but now... his steps left no traces. Only the wind. Only the water. Only this short approaching night, and in it he wasn't a warrior, not a hunter for power, but simply a man who had allowed himself to sit and listen to the world breathe.

"It's so shallow inside my soul.", - escaped his lips in a low murmur,when he straightened up, looking straight into the distance. He broke this silence, perhaps not on purpose, perhaps his soul itself was speaking for him, demanding to break free. But the words had already been said.