What Sleeps – Extrait 42

What Sleeps – Extrait 42

they did. They always did. Because they weren’t real. Just ghosts. Just shadows. Just whispers that twisted around her thoughts like threads she refused to let go. Her name was Kalina. That was real. That was enough. The ache was still there, a slow, steady pulse beneath her ribs. But it was softer now. Quieter. A whisper she didn’t need to answer. She thought of the old woman. Her pale, twisted fingers. Her voice a faint, dying whisper. “Tell him… I’m sorry…” But it wasn’t just for him. It was for herself. For the part of herself she buried. For the part of herself she refused to see. Because the shadows didn’t leave. They never did. But they didn’t need to. Her breath was a faint, calm mist, her pulse a slow, steady beat that pressed against her chest. The mist twisted, melted, a pale, silver shroud that curled around the dark, rippling water. And then she heard it. A faint, slow hum. A voice that slipped between the quiet, a voice she knew. “I thought I might find you here.” Kalina turned, her breath a faint, shivering mist that twisted against the cool air. Alexei stood a few steps away, his coat a dark, wet shape that twisted against the pale, silver light, his fingers tucked beneath the damp sleeves, his eyes dark, sharp, a faint, silver gleam beneath the mist. “You always know where to find me.” Her voice was calm, steady, a faint, gentle hum. “I know where you go when you’re searching.” His voice was calm, soft, a faint, quiet breath. “But you don’t need to search anymore.” “I wasn’t searching.” Her fingers traced the cold, wet iron, her breath a faint, slow mist. “Not this time.” “Then why are you here?” His voice was a faint, quiet whisper. “To say goodbye.” Her voice was soft now, calm, a faint, shivering breath. “To let him go.” “And have you?” His eyes didn’t leave hers, dark, warm, a faint, silver light tracing his sharp features. “I have.” Her voice was a faint, gentle whisper. “Because he was never really here.” A faint, soft wind slipped between the mist, tracing silver veins across the dark, rippling water. The city was a pale, shivering ghost, the light a faint, sickly glow that twisted against the wet, cracked stone. “But you are.” Her voice was soft, a faint, calm breath. “And so am I.” A faint, soft smile traced his lips, his fingers brushing against his chin, a faint, pale smear of paint pressed against his cheek. “So now what?” “Now I live.” Her voice was calm, steady. “Now I let the shadows stay where they belong.” “And if they come back?” His voice was soft, a faint, quiet hum. “They always do.” Her fingers slipped, her breath a faint, slow mist. “But that’s okay. Because they’re just shadows. And I’m not afraid of them anymore.” “I’m glad.” His fingers slipped, brushing against hers, warm, a slow, steady pulse. “Because I was afraid of losing you to them.” “You won’t.” Her voice was a faint, soft breath. “Because I won’t lose myself.” They stood there, wrapped in the quiet, the pale, silver mist twisting around the bridge, the dark, rippling water pressing against the damp, cracked stone. The city was waking, a faint, distant hum that slipped between the narrow, twisting streets. And the shadows melted, twisted, a faint, pale breath that curled against the morning light. Her fingers tightened against his, her breath a faint, calm mist that slipped against his cheek. “Alexei…” Her voice was a faint, shivering whisper. “Thank you.” “For what?” His voice was calm, soft. “For being here.” Her voice was calm, steady. “For not letting me disappear.” “I never would.” His voice was a faint, quiet hum. “And neither would you.” Her lips twisted, a faint, soft smile, her pulse a slow, steady beat. The mist melted, a pale, silver glow that traced the waking city. And she didn’t look back. Didn’t need to. Her name was Kalina. That was enough. Back Cover Summary In

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 42

What Sleeps – Extrait 41

What Sleeps – Extrait 41

alone? Or for never seeing? For never letting go? The ache twisted, sharp, pressing, a slow, heavy knot. Her breath was sharp, tearing at her chest. But she didn’t look away. “Forgive me.” Her voice was a faint, trembling whisper. “Please…” But there was no answer. Just the rain. Just the quiet. Just the pale, silver mist that twisted, melted, wrapped around her thoughts. And then she understood. There was nothing to forgive. Because there was nothing to escape. No shadow. No ghost. No name. Just her. Her fingers slipped, her breath a faint, thin mist that curled against the dark air. The ache pressed, twisted, a slow, steady pulse that didn’t leave. But it was softer now. Quieter. Because it was just an ache. Just a whisper. Just a name she didn’t need. Andrei. A name she whispered because she didn’t know how to speak her own. But she did now. “Kalina.” Her voice was a faint, shivering breath. “My name is Kalina.” The rain whispered, a soft, silver thread. The mist curled, a pale, silver shroud that wrapped around the quiet, empty street. But the shadow was gone. Because it was always her. Her breath was slow now, steady, a faint, thin mist that twisted against the cold air. Her fingers slipped, her pulse a slow, steady beat that pressed against her chest. The ache didn’t leave. But it didn’t need to. Because it was just a name. Just a shadow. Just a voice she didn’t need to chase. Andrei. A ghost she didn’t need to follow. A fear she didn’t need to hide. A name she didn’t need to whisper. Because she was still here. Her breath was soft, calm, her pulse a slow, steady beat. The rain traced silver veins against the wet stone, the mist a pale, silver shroud that melted into the dark. But she wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. Her name was Kalina. And that was enough. Epilogue: The Light Beneath the Mist The rain had stopped, but the city was still wrapped in its ghostly breath. The mist lingered, a silver shroud that twisted between the narrow streets, that traced pale fingers against the iron railings, that pressed against the cracked windows like a memory that refused to fade. Kalina walked beside the river, her steps slow, steady, a quiet, rhythmic whisper against the wet stone. The sky was a pale, shivering grey, the light a faint, sickly glow that spilled against the dark, rippling water. But the air was calm now. Quiet. The rain a faint, distant murmur that whispered against the far-off rooftops. She stopped by the old bridge, her fingers tracing the cold, damp iron, her breath a faint, steady mist that curled against the cool air. The ache in her chest was still there, a slow, steady pulse, but it was softer now. A quiet, distant hum that pressed against her thoughts but didn’t overwhelm them. Because she saw now. Saw what she had refused to see. Understood what she had been chasing. Andrei was gone. Or maybe he was never there. Not really. Not in the way she thought. He was a name she whispered in the dark, a shadow she chased, a ghost she refused to leave. But he wasn’t just a ghost. He was her ghost. A shadow she carried, a voice that whispered because she wouldn’t listen. A name she gave to her own fear, her own doubt, her own pain. And now she understood. Because she didn’t need him. Didn’t need to chase a ghost. Didn’t need to whisper a name that never left. Her fingers tightened against the cold, damp railing, her breath a faint, slow mist that twisted against the cool air. The city stretched before her, pale, shivering, the mist curling between the dark, narrow streets, the wet, twisted alleys that seemed to melt into the pale, silver light. But it wasn’t just a city. It was a labyrinth of shadows and whispers, a maze of names that twisted, tangled, pressed against the quiet. A place where memories didn’t die, where voices didn’t fade, where names never truly left. And yet

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 41

What Sleeps – Extrait 40

What Sleeps – Extrait 40

carry.” “No.” Her voice was a faint, desperate whisper. “No… please…” But the face twisted, melted, faded. The mist curled, a pale, silver shroud that wrapped around the darkness. And the shadow was gone. Her breath was sharp, tearing at her chest. Her fingers were white, stiff, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her ears. But the rain whispered, a soft, silver thread that twisted against her cheeks. And the shadow was gone. But the ache stayed. Twisting, pressing, a slow, heavy knot beneath her ribs. Chapter 27: The Mirror That Won’t Lie The rain had stopped. The mist was gone. The city was a pale, shivering ghost, the wet stone traced with faint, silver veins that twisted, melted beneath the pale, sickly light of the streetlamps. But the ache didn’t leave. The ache never left. Kalina stood beneath the twisted iron railing of the bridge, her fingers tight against the cold, wet metal, her breath a faint, thin mist that curled against the dark air. Her pulse was a slow, heavy drumbeat, her chest a tight, twisting knot that wouldn’t leave. Andrei was gone. The shadow was gone. But she was still here. Still caught between the pale, trembling light and the darkness that never left. Still caught between the rain and the mist, between the names that twisted around her thoughts like threads she couldn’t shake. Because she knew now. Knew what it was. Knew who he was. Andrei. A name she whispered in the dark. A ghost she carried. A shadow that never left. But he wasn’t real. Not in the way she thought. Not in the way she feared. He was something else. Something older. Something deeper. A voice that whispered in the quiet, a face that watched from the mist. A name she refused to leave. But not a man. Not a stranger. Not a ghost who followed her. A part of her. A part of her she couldn’t escape. A part of her she wouldn’t see. Andrei was her fear. Her regret. Her doubt. Her anger. Her pain. He was the ache that twisted, pressed, a slow, heavy knot that never left. Because she made him. Because she needed him. She thought of the old woman. Her pale, twisted fingers. Her voice a faint, dying whisper. “Tell him… I’m sorry…” But it wasn’t just for him. It was for herself. For the part of herself she buried. For the part of herself she refused to see. The part of herself that whispered in the darkness, that followed her between the rain, that watched from the mist. The part of herself she blamed. The part of herself she feared. Andrei was her fear of being alone. Her fear of being forgotten. Her fear of being nothing. A name she gave to the darkness she refused to see. A shadow she needed to escape. But how? How could she escape herself? How could she leave a shadow that was hers? Her fingers tightened against the cold, wet metal, her breath a faint, sharp mist that twisted, melted against the dark air. “I’m not afraid,” she whispered, her voice a faint, trembling breath. But she was. Always had been. Afraid of the quiet. Afraid of the mist. Afraid of the shadow that whispered her name. Andrei. But the name didn’t leave. The ache didn’t leave. Because it was her name too. Her pulse was too loud, too fast, a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her chest. Her breath was sharp, tearing at her throat, her fingers white, stiff against the cold iron. But she didn’t look away. Didn’t run. Because the shadow didn’t leave. Because the name didn’t leave. Because it was hers. The rain whispered, a soft, silver thread that twisted against the pale, sickly light. The mist curled, a faint, pale shroud that wrapped around the wet, dark streets. And her reflection stared back at her. Twisted, pale, dark eyes traced with faint, silver shadows. But it was her. Always her. Just her. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was a faint, shivering breath. “I’m sorry…” Sorry for what? For being afraid? For being lost? For being

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 40

What Sleeps – Extrait 39

What Sleeps – Extrait 39

watching. Dark. Sharp. A faint, silver gleam that twisted, bled against the pale light. Kalina’s breath was too fast, too thin, her chest a tight, heavy knot. But she didn’t turn away. Didn’t run. Just stood there, her fingers white, stiff, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her ears. “Andrei…” Her voice was a faint, trembling breath. “Please… please tell me who you are.” The shadow didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched. But his face was clearer now. Pale. Sharp. A faint, dark line twisted down his cheek—a scar that traced the edge of his jaw, a mark that seemed to shiver, bleed against the pale light. “I need to know.” Her voice was a faint, desperate whisper. “I need to understand. I need to see.” The shadow leaned forward, just slightly, the pale light catching the faint, sharp curve of his eyes. “Do you?” “Yes.” Her voice was too fast, too thin. “Yes, I need to know. I need to… I need to see you.” “Why?” His voice was calm, a faint, cold breath. “Will it change anything?” “I don’t know.” Her fingers tightened, her breath sharp, tearing at her chest. “But I need to see. I need to understand.” “You want to understand a shadow?” His voice was calm, sharp, a faint, quiet hum. “A name that never left?” “You’re not just a shadow.” Her voice was sharp now, cracking. “You’re real. You have to be real.” “Do I?” His voice was calm, a faint, cold whisper. “Or am I just a name you won’t let go?” “You’re not just a name.” Her voice was sharp, tangled. “You’re… you’re him. You’re Andrei.” “And if I am?” His voice was soft, calm, a faint, quiet hum. “What will you do? What will you say?” “I…” Her voice cracked, her breath sharp, tearing. “I don’t know. I just… I need to understand. I need to know why. I need to know who you are.” “I am a shadow.” His voice was calm, a faint, sharp whisper. “A shadow you carry. A ghost you won’t leave.” “No.” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “No, you’re real. I saw you. I heard you. I…” “You saw what you wanted to see.” His voice was calm, cold. “You heard what you needed to hear. But that doesn’t make it real.” “It has to be real.” Her voice was too fast, too thin. “It has to be… because if it’s not…” “Then what?” His voice was sharp now, too sharp. “What happens if it’s not real? What happens if I’m just a shadow?” “Don’t say that.” Her breath was sharp, tearing at her chest. “Don’t… please…” “But it’s true.” His voice was calm, a faint, cold hum. “You don’t want the truth. You want the shadow. You want the name. You want the ache that won’t leave.” “I don’t want it.” Her voice cracked, a faint, desperate whisper. “I don’t… I just… I just want to understand.” “Then understand this.” His voice was sharp now, his eyes dark, sharp, watching. “I am here because you won’t let me go. I am here because you refuse to leave the shadows.” “I’m not…” Her voice was sharp, tangled. “I’m not doing this. I’m not… I just want to see. I just want to see you.” “You want to see a ghost.” His voice was calm, steady. “But all you will see is yourself.” “No.” Her voice was a faint, shivering whisper. “No, you’re real. You’re…” “Look closer.” His voice was sharp now, a faint, cold breath. “Look at me. See what you refuse to see.” Her breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing. Her fingers were white, stiff, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. And then she saw it. His face. Pale. Sharp. But not just his. Another face. Her own. Twisting, melting, pressing against the darkness. A mirror twisted in the rain. Her own eyes. Her own fear. Her own voice that whispered her name. “Kalina…” Her breath caught, the ache a slow, sharp knot. “No… no, this isn’t…” “It is.” His voice was calm, cold. “It always was.” “But you… you’re…” “I am you.” His voice was a faint, sharp whisper. “I am the shadow you refuse to leave. I am the name you whisper in the dark. I am the ache you

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 39

What Sleeps – Extrait 38

What Sleeps – Extrait 38

Her voice was sharp, tangled, a faint, desperate thread. “Kalina.” His voice was calm, but his fingers tightened, his eyes dark, watching. “Don’t do this. Don’t let it control you.” “I’m not letting it control me.” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “I’m trying to understand.” “Understand what?” His voice was sharp now, almost angry. “A ghost? A shadow? A name that never leaves?” “Yes.” Her voice was too loud, too fast. “Yes, because it’s real. Because it’s not just me. Because it’s not just a shadow.” “You’re wrong.” His voice was calm, sharp, a faint, quiet breath. “And I can’t help you if you won’t see that.” “Then don’t.” Her voice was sharp now, cracking. “Don’t help me. Don’t pretend you know. Don’t pretend you understand.” “Kalina…” His voice was a faint, quiet hum. “Please… don’t do this.” But she didn’t answer. Didn’t look back. Just turned, her feet pressing against the wet stone, her breath sharp, thin, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. And she walked. Away from him. Away from his calm, quiet voice. Away from his steady, warm hand. But not away from the shadow. Because the shadow was there. Pressed against the mist. Twisting between the pale, silver light. Watching. Always watching. Andrei. Her chest tightened, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing. Her fingers were white, stiff, her breath a faint, sharp mist that twisted against the cold air. He was still there. Always there. And now she was alone. Or maybe she had always been alone. Her feet pressed against the wet stone, her breath a faint, shivering thread that curled against the mist. The rain traced silver threads against the cracked windows, the mist a pale, silver shroud that twisted between the dark, narrow streets. But the shadow was there. Always there. Pressed against the rain. Just beyond the pale, flickering light. And she needed to know. Chapter 26: The Confrontation in the Mist The rain was relentless, a silver curtain that twisted, melted, pressed against the mist that curled between the narrow, dark streets. The city was a shivering ghost, the mist a pale, twisting shroud that wrapped around the wet, cracked stone, that whispered against the iron railings. But Kalina didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Her feet pressed against the wet cobblestones, her breath a sharp, thin mist that curled against the cold air, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her chest. The ache was a slow, sharp knot, a pulse that wouldn’t leave, that twisted around her thoughts like a thread she couldn’t shake. Because he was there. Not just a shadow. Not just a whisper. But a shape. A figure that moved between the mist, that twisted between the pale, silver light, that watched without speaking. Andrei. Her breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing. Her fingers were white, stiff, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. Not this time. “Wait!” Her voice was too thin, too sharp, a faint, desperate thread that slipped between the rain. “Wait, please!” The shadow didn’t stop. Didn’t turn. Just moved, his steps slow, steady, a dark shape that slipped between the mist, that melted, twisted, pressed against the pale, shivering light. But she was closer now. Her feet slapped against the wet stone, her breath sharp, tearing at her chest. The ache twisted, sharp, a knife pressing beneath her ribs. “Stop!” Her voice was sharp now, cracking. “Please… please stop!” The shadow stepped around the corner, the mist thick, the rain a faint, silver whisper that twisted against the darkness. But she didn’t stop. Her pulse was too loud, too fast, her breath a thin, sharp mist that curled against the cold air. And then she saw him. Standing beneath the pale, sickly glow of the streetlamp. Still. Silent. A dark figure pressed against the mist, his coat twisting, his face half-hidden in shadow. But his eyes were

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 38

What Sleeps – Extrait 37

What Sleeps – Extrait 37

whispered against her cheeks, a soft, silver thread that twisted, melted, traced pale veins against the mist. But the ache in her chest was a slow, heavy knot, a pulse that wouldn’t leave. Alexei walked beside her, his fingers warm, tight around hers, his eyes calm, dark, tracing the pale, shivering light that twisted between the rain. His voice was a faint, quiet hum, a gentle whisper that slipped between the quiet. “It’s over.” His voice was calm, steady. “You saw it. You faced it. Now you can let it go.” But she didn’t believe him. Couldn’t believe him. Because it wasn’t over. It couldn’t be over. The shadow was still there. The face was still there. The name was still there, twisting around her like a thread that wouldn’t let go. Andrei. It wasn’t just a shadow. It wasn’t just a ghost she carried. It wasn’t just a name she whispered in the dark. It was real. It had to be real. “Kalina.” Alexei’s voice was calm, too calm. “You’re holding on to something that doesn’t exist.” “How do you know?” Her voice was too thin, too sharp, cracking. “How do you know what I saw? How do you know what I felt?” “Because I was there.” His voice was a faint, quiet hum. “I saw the mist. I saw the shadows. But that’s all it was.” “You don’t know that.” Her voice was sharp now, tangled, a faint, desperate thread. “You don’t know what he said to me. You don’t know what I felt.” “I know what I see.” His fingers were warm, steady, his eyes dark, calm. “I know what’s real.” But did he? Did he really? Or was he just telling her what he wanted her to believe? Her chest tightened, the ache twisting, pressing, a slow, heavy knot. Her fingers slipped, her breath a thin, sharp mist that curled against the pale, silver light. “Why are you so sure?” Her voice was a faint, trembling thread. “Why do you keep telling me it’s just a shadow?” “Because it is.” His voice was calm, a faint, quiet hum. “Because you’re making it real. Because you’re refusing to let it go.” “I don’t want to let it go.” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “I want to know what it is. I want to know who he is. I want to know why he keeps appearing.” “Because you keep looking for him.” His voice was calm, too calm. “Because you won’t stop chasing him.” “I’m not chasing him.” Her voice was sharp now, tangled. “He’s chasing me.” “No.” His voice was a faint, quiet breath. “You’re chasing yourself.” “Stop saying that.” Her breath was too fast, too thin. “Stop telling me I’m making this up. Stop telling me it’s not real.” “It isn’t.” His fingers were warm, tight. “It’s just a shadow. A ghost you refuse to leave.” “I don’t believe you.” Her voice was sharp now, cracking. “I don’t… I can’t… I…” “Then keep chasing it.” His voice was calm, sharp. “But it will never leave you. Because it isn’t real.” Her fingers slipped, her breath sharp, tearing at her chest. Her pulse was a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her ears. But he didn’t know. He couldn’t know. He hadn’t seen what she had seen. He hadn’t heard the voice that whispered her name. He hadn’t felt the cold, sharp ache that pressed against her chest, that twisted around her thoughts. She pulled away, her steps pressing against the wet stone, the mist twisting around her, a pale, silver shroud that seemed to follow. “Kalina.” His voice was calm, too calm. “Don’t do this. Don’t start running again.” “I’m not running.” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “I’m trying to see. I’m trying to understand.” “There’s nothing to understand.” His voice was calm, steady. “There’s just you.” “No.” Her voice was a faint, desperate whisper. “There’s more. There has to be more.” “Then show me.” His fingers were warm, tight, his eyes dark, watching. “Show me what you see.” But she couldn’t. Not here. Not now. Not with him. Because he didn’t believe her. Because he didn’t see. Because he didn’t want to see. “I have to go.”

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 37

What Sleeps – Extrait 36

What Sleeps – Extrait 36

tightening, the ache a slow, sharp knot. Her fingers tightened around Alexei’s, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. “There!” Her voice was sharp now, tangled, a faint, desperate thread. “Do you see him?” Alexei turned, his eyes tracing the mist, the pale, silver light that twisted, bled against the darkness. “There’s nothing there.” His voice was calm, steady. “Just rain. Just shadows.” “It’s not just shadows.” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “It’s him. He’s watching.” “Then go to him.” His voice was calm, but his fingers tightened around hers. “See him. Face him.” “I can’t.” Her voice was a faint, shivering whisper. “I don’t want to.” “Yes, you do.” His fingers were warm, tight, his voice a faint, calm hum. “Because you want to know.” Her breath was sharp, tearing at her chest. Her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat. But the shadow didn’t leave. Just stood there, still, silent, a dark shape pressed against the pale, flickering light. And then it moved. A step. Slow. Steady. A faint, dark shape that slipped between the mist, that twisted, melted, pressed against the cold, wet stone. Kalina’s breath caught, the ache twisting, sharp, pressing. “He’s coming.” “Good.” Alexei’s voice was calm, his eyes sharp, his fingers warm, strong. “Then stop running.” “I can’t.” Her voice was too thin, too fast, tangled. “I can’t… I just…” “Then he will always follow.” His voice was a faint, calm breath. “Because you keep giving him a place to stand.” Her breath was sharp, her chest tight, the ache a slow, heavy knot. The shadow stepped closer. His face was pale now, half-hidden in the mist, his eyes dark, sharp, a faint, silver gleam that twisted, bled against the pale light. “Alexei…” Her voice was a faint, desperate whisper. “I’m here.” His fingers were warm, strong. “But I can’t save you from yourself.” “I’m not…” Her voice was sharp, cracking. “I’m not doing this. I’m not… I didn’t… I don’t…” “Yes, you did.” His voice was calm, sharp. “And you still are.” The shadow was close now. Just beyond the mist. His face a pale, dark shape twisted against the silver light. His eyes sharp, empty, watching. “Andrei…” Her voice was a faint, shivering breath. “Is it you?” The shadow didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched. Just stood. But she saw it. The faint, dark line that twisted down his cheek. The scar. The pale, sharp curve that seemed to twist, press against the cold air. Her chest tightened, the ache a slow, sharp knot. Her fingers were white, stiff, clawing at Alexei’s hand. “It’s him…” Her voice was a faint, sharp whisper. “It’s really him…” “No, it isn’t.” Alexei’s voice was calm, sharp. “It’s just you. It’s always been you.” Her breath caught, the ache twisting, pressing, a slow, heavy knot. But the shadow didn’t leave. Just stood there. Just watched. Just waited. “Please…” Her voice was a faint, desperate whisper. “Please just tell me who you are…” But the shadow didn’t speak. Just stepped forward, his coat a dark, twisting shadow that slipped between the mist. And then he was gone. Her chest tightened, the ache pressing, twisting, a slow, heavy knot. Her fingers were white, stiff, her pulse a slow, heavy drumbeat that filled her chest. But the mist was empty. The pale light twisted, bled, a faint, silver glow that traced the wet stone. “He’s gone.” Her voice was a faint, shivering breath. “He was never there.” Alexei’s voice was calm, his fingers warm, tight. “Just a shadow.” “No…” Her voice cracked, a faint, desperate whisper. “No, he was… he was…” But the mist didn’t answer. Just twisted, melted, a pale, silver shroud that wrapped around the narrow, wet streets. And in the distance, a shadow slipped between the rain. Chapter 25: The Doubt That Won’t Leave Kalina’s steps were slow now, her feet pressing against the wet stone, her breath a faint, thin mist that curled against the cold air. The rain

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🔖 Labels : What Sleeps, What Sleeps – Extrait 36