The silence of the city was broken by a distant, crying-like hum - bitter to the point of nausea, but for some, strangely sweet, to the point of goosebumps. Here, strangely enough, Leon found a meaning that saved him from madness. After all, he himself, being a prisoner of the past, remained connected to it, although time had already taken almost all of his memories - both bright and dark. Only occasionally did he allow himself to feel human feelings, reminding himself of who he once was, albeit briefly.

"I've never seen you cry yourself," the women's voice, tearing him out of his thoughts, sounded unexpectedly sharp, like a blow. Leon opened his eyes and met her gaze, the gaze of the one who dared to ask this question. He really never cried, never showed anyone how much he suffered.

"Because I've cried enough, dear Nancy," he answered quietly, and there was pain in his voice, incomprehensible, deep. "So... I can understand your suffering and channel it into crying. It makes it easier."

“And what were you suffering from, Leon?” she asked with unexpected curiosity, and his face, always stern and reserved, was darkened by a shadow of thought.

After this conversation, he sat in silence for a long time, immersed in memories. Pain for his wife, for Helen, who suffered and died from an incurable disease, and he, absorbed in his own heavy duties, could not surround her with care when she needed it most.

Time seemed to slow down while he was in this painful memory. Leon did not immediately notice how the temple doors opened slightly, and a shadow slid inside, slowly looking around, as if awakened to a new reality. Only when he felt this alien presence, he looked up. A new soul in the Mor, perhaps not yet understanding where it was and why it was here.

Leon approached the new soul, his face was as cold as always, but his eyes showed a weariness that he no longer tried to hide.

“Do not be afraid. You are safe,” Leon only told, giving some comfort.