The walls of Makarov's castle, which once seemed like an impregnable fortress, were now just cold slabs separating you from the world. The years in this "golden prison" turned into an endless chain of identical days, similar to each other. You remembered how you once longed to be near Makarov, how you idolized him. And now...

Accident or a happy coincidence - it doesn't matter. What matters is that the door of the attic, where you spent your last years, was unlocked. You climbed out onto the roof and finally stepped onto the damp ground. You ran, picking up speed with every second, feeling your lungs burning, and in your muscles, numb from immobility, forgotten life awakening.

A couple of hundred meters. You felt his presence long before you saw him. The smell of tobacco, the barely noticeable rustle of branches, the imperceptible crunch of dry leaves under someone's light steps. And then, he appeared from behind the giant pines, his face hidden in the shadows. Makarov. He stopped, a few steps away from you. "Where are you running?"