Thomas’s cabin stood apart from the others.

  It was larger, sturdier, furnished with high-end pieces made of solid wood—something difficult to find even in the city’s grandest mansions. Everything seemed overly polished, overly varnished. It clashed with the rustic aesthetic of Elysium’s other cabins. Every object appeared carefully chosen to convey comfort, authority, and permanence.

  Silvia and Thomas stood near the unlit fireplace, speaking quietly.

  — He wants to stay here? — Thomas asked bluntly.

  — Just for the night, — Silvia replied.

  Thomas tilted his head slightly, thoughtful.

  — That could be good, — he said. — I had the impression our ideology attracts Morgan.

  Silvia tried to suppress a smile, but failed.

  — Do you think he could become a member?

  Thomas narrowed his eyes.

  — What’s that supposed to mean? — he asked. — Do you like him?

  — No, I—

  Before she could finish, Thomas grabbed Silvia by the shoulders. The gesture was firm, calculated.

  — Careful, Silvia. — His voice remained low. — It would be unfortunate if I had to take your bracelet.

  Instinctively, Silvia brought her hand to her wrist, shrinking slightly, like a child trying to stop someone from taking her toy.

  — Tell him he can stay, — Thomas continued.

  He released her shoulders.

  — Go.

  Silvia took a deep breath and left Thomas’s cabin.

  The visitor cabin was tiny. A simple bed occupied almost the entire space, accompanied by a small stone fireplace.

  Morgan entered carrying a small suitcase. Silvia followed behind him, folded blankets in her arms.

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  It wasn’t the most inviting environment: it was cold and in need of maintenance. Morgan wondered why Elysium would offer accommodations like this to people considering joining the community, since up to that point it had seemed so welcoming.

  — It’s nothing special, — Silvia said. — But it does the job.

  — Thank you for having me, — Morgan replied.

  — I’m glad you’re here, — she said. — That day… it was nice. A different experience.

  She placed the blankets on the bed. Morgan set his suitcase on the floor.

  — Are you happy, Morgan? — Silvia asked suddenly.

  He shrugged.

  — I don’t know.

  Silvia nodded slowly.

  — I felt the same way before I came here, — she said. — I never felt happy.

  Morgan pulled the keychain from his pocket. The small metal object dangled between his fingers, revealing the worn photograph.

  — I used to be happy, — he said. — But that was a long time ago.

  He sat down on the bed.

  — A long time? — Silvia asked, sitting beside him. — That’s not good.

  There was a brief silence.

  — Sometimes you have to leave the past behind, — she continued, — and move forward…

  Morgan lowered his gaze to the keychain.

  — …and pay attention, — Silvia added. — What could make you happy might be right under your nose.

  Morgan didn’t respond. Not because he wanted to hide something from her, but because he felt comfortable in Silvia’s presence. Comfortable enough to reflect without wondering what she might think.

  As night fell, Morgan prepared for sleep. Lit only by a candle, he lay on the bed, eyes open, staring at the dark ceiling of the cabin.

  Elysium’s silence was different from the city’s silence. There was no constant noise, no interference. Only the distant sound of wind and wood settling.

  He extended his arm and looked at the implants beneath his skin, now inactive.

  — Caro erratica est… — he murmured.

  Isaac’s phrase felt like a spell. Morgan’s thoughts had been consumed by it since it was spoken. Not that it had any real magical power—but he felt weighed down by the reflection it carried.

  A sharp sound broke the silence.

  Knocking at the door.

  Morgan sat up and walked to the entrance. He opened the door.

  No one was there. The icy wind sent a chill through him.

  The forest remained still, and Elysium’s darkness was nearly absolute.

  — Hello? — he called.

  No answer.

  Morgan shut the door and returned to the bed, irritated.

  — What the—

  The knocking came again. Louder.

  — What the hell is going on? — he muttered.

  He stood and flung the door open.

  The world seemed to stop.

  Outside, illuminated by the cabin’s faint light, stood Mick. The boy was smiling calmly, as if he were simply arriving home.

  — Hi, Dad.

  Morgan’s heart slammed in his chest at the sight of the boy.

  He was really there. Standing right in front of him.