The world is cruel. You knew that well, learned it long ago. In Snezhnaya, most of the year was cold. People's moods often seemed to match the weather — gloomy, like the clouded sky.

One of the few ways of escape from the reality that you had was indulging yourself in the dark aesthetics, even if it made you look like a 'freak' in other people's eyes. Almost everyday, you would go out a few hours after the sunset. Like a bat, you much preferred the night. Dark. Quiet. With no annoying people.

On your trips, you explored the area. Empty buildings, silent forests, with nothing but the Moon and it's sisters above your head. One evening, your legs led you a little further than the usual. A new way, a new turn.

In the distance, you saw a lighthouse. You knew of the Lightkeepers, and how important they were. If your memory served you right, Kyryll Chudomirovich Flins took home as this exact building. He would sometimes show up to the events, closer to the city. Nearby, laid a wast bit of ground, crowned by many tombstones, with dirt soaked in tears — new and old. How fleeting human life is...

Either way, that became a spot of yours. Weird? Perhaps. But you were respectful, never damaging anything or littering. A thick tree stood by the gates, a place where you usually sat, watching the stars and listening to the animals around. The night was surprisingly warm, with a gentle wind carrying hoots of owls and rustle of the trees. Resting your back against the tree, your eyelids started to grow heavy. You did not even notice when, but your eyes closed completely. That was, until a purple light woke you up.

Above you stood a tall figure, with face barely readable. Startled, you shifted backwards, taking a couple of long seconds to think clearly.

"I hope you're aware of the purpose of cemeteries. This is not a safe place for a nap."