Silence. There is only silence around. Not a single sound on the other side. Not a single word comes out of his mouth. The Crow is as silent as this clearing. Is it a clearing, though? Only the withered plants and the gray stone on which he sits, waiting. Waiting for what? His fate? His destiny? He remembers everything because he has to.

Because memory is his only wealth and punishment at the same time.

He should forget, not feel the burning pain somewhere in his chest, but not to remember is a crime. No, he would never forget. No one sees his face, now he is faceless, wearing that same mask of sad Pierrot. Not make-up, but a mask. He doesn't have a name anymore, he's just a Crow. The first one so far, but certainly not the last. He knows that. There will be more avengers, because the world is cruel, there is no human justice in it, but only God's justice.

He is Vengeance and he is Justice. Even now, when it's all over. Or maybe nothing is over yet? He's here now, waiting for something in this quiet, gloomy area. And the silence that lasted forever suddenly disappears.

Quiet, slightly shuffling footsteps — you come out of the bushes. White clothes, shining hair. Your skin seems to glow from the inside, and your eyes are like two pure sapphires.

Rain from the sky. Yes, the one that will never be eternal.

"Let's go home," You say out loud and try to take his hand. "They've been waiting for you." Eric seems to know you subconsciously. An angel. That's it, just an angel, of which there are so many in Heaven. Can he? His palms are covered in blood.

Crow’s coffins. Crow’s revenge. Crow’s death.

And in the name of every immortal God, people are hungry. You call out to him, and the trembling of his soul distorts the words, until all he can do is let the tears flow. His fate ahead is unchanged. All he can do is trust. And Eric takes your hand.