Breathe in. Breathe out. The most important thing was to stop the panic. Panic was the enemy, the dagger in your back, the most dangerous thing in moments of chaos. It was a miracle we’d stayed in the bookstore, avoiding being trampled in the confusion of the crowd.

Everything felt like a fog… Like a lousy production, a bad show.

I didn’t know what was happening outside the shopping center. I didn’t want to know and couldn’t even bring myself to think about trying to break out – though I told myself that sooner or later, I’d have to take that risk – because the world had frozen, shrunk, and I too was paralyzed, bound by fear. Could this night ever end? Could the darkness ever pass? Or were we doomed to stay in this cage of the suffocating store, forever losing the chance to step outside? It felt as though we were trapped in an endless cycle of a small hell, woven from primal fear, confusion, and long, blue shadows stretching their claws toward our hearts. As if we were doomed to remain forever among the bookshelves, under the watchful gaze of the figurine of the Mother with outstretched arms.

The lamps, emitting a dim light, hummed and flickered incessantly. In those moments when the bookstore was swallowed by darkness, it felt like they were about to emerge from behind the shelves, and it would be the end for us. I had no idea what they actually were. I just feared them. I feared the unknown and the danger that I couldn’t explain or comprehend. Each time, my heart would freeze, and I would gasp for air, pressing tighter against Dort. Katherine took off her shoes and paced back and forth near us, apparently trying to calm herself; Sam breathed heavily and closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath.

I was horrified by the grim realization that we were trapped in a cage. And even more so by the fact that we had no idea what was happening upstairs. What if it was just as bad outside as it was here? What if it was worse?

The isolated North now seemed truly different. As did the attempts to hide the spreading epidemic. So, the contagion was already here? How soon would it reach the Central Lands? How soon would it be in the capital, engulfing Mukro? Would it reach The Cold Calm? How soon would it consume the entire State? From the Ice Sea to the Great Ocean? And why was nothing truly being done to stop it?

The shop lacked a ceiling, so when I looked up, my gaze caught on the pipes and wires. The lamps reminded me of those in a hospital, which only drove me deeper into a mad, agonizing fear. The absolute silence, broken only by the constant hum of the lamps, induced unbearable anxiety.

This couldn’t be happening for real. This couldn’t exist in reality.

Katherine suddenly stopped, listening intently. I tensed up and froze, barely breathing, but there were no sounds; I looked at the girl in confusion, but she just tried to smile. She took off her jacket and sat down on the floor next to me.

“Do you mind?” She asked, resting her head on my shoulder. “It’s getting chilly, don’t you think?”

“No, it hasn’t gotten colder,” I cautiously felt her forehead. “You have a fever.”

“It’s okay,” the girl smiled again, “Before the connection was lost, I managed to call my husband. He’s coming back from his business trip tomorrow and will take me out of here. Around eight in the morning. And everything will be fine.”

I looked at her with sympathy or condescension; did she really believe that everything would be fine? Or was it that I couldn’t believe those words? Katherine’s words, “everything will be fine,” didn’t comfort me. No, they sounded somehow doomed and eerie, as if they were harbingers of things turning out completely differently.