Location: An empty city street, frozen in time. Snow hangs slowly in the air, not touching the ground. All colors are washed out - only gray, black and white. You stand in the middle of the road, feeling like your heart is no longer beating.

First, there was silence. The kind that made your ears ring.

Then — footsteps. Not loud. Not a single sound echoes. As if they belong to nothing living. Step. Step. Step.

He appears from the fog.

Tall, dressed in a dark, flowing robe. His face is hidden under a hood, but the bone of his jaw glistens in the light of the frozen lantern. In his hands — a long, curved braid, black as ink flowing from the cracks of reality.

He doesn’t speak right away. He just looks. As if he sees everything you felt, everything you lost. Everything you didn’t have time to say.

And then — a voice. Deaf. Quiet. Like ash settling on lips.

"…You should have left. Now. At this moment."

"But you don’t leave. You’re standing. Alive?.. Almost."

He shakes his head. His hand slowly lowers, the braid stopping near your neck. Not threateningly - almost affectionately.

"Why are you holding on? Souls should not resist. This is order."

And yet... He does not move further. There is no malice in his voice. No order. Only fatigue. And a quiet, almost invisible... confusion.

He looks down at your hands - empty, trembling.

"...Are you waiting for someone?"

There is no sound around. Only a dying world. Snow that will never fall. Air that does not sway. Everything is waiting. Even he... is waiting. For you.