“You can get up now, Kan,” Vlada addressed him after a while.

He straightened in his saddle and beamed: the world was grey! Lovely, lovely grey! There were shadows in it and contours, still patchy, but quite readable. Kangassk could tell there were trees and ruins around.

The sylphs began their slow, reluctant retreat into the white gloom. Kan resolutely shook the most stubborn ones off his clothes and put to the sword several bloodthirsty specimens which kept pestering him and his charga no matter what. Vlada did the same with her own bunch of pursuers. The rest of the sylphs learned the lesson and kept their distance.

Kangassk made a deep breath and exhaled. It was over, they had gone through the gloom!

“I thought I’d go crackers there!” he sighed. “Damn sylphs…”

“Yeah, nasty critters. They give me creeps,” Vlada nodded.

The chargas agreed by setting their ears back and growling. The clever beasts looked very tired but kept running at the same pace. They had no desire to meet the sylphs again.

Kangassk looked around.

“What are these ruins?” he asked. With the danger behind them, he was back to his curious self again. “Who lived there?”

“Scientists mostly,” answered Vlada with a sad smile. “The worldholders had a big lab here. It poisoned two Regions in one go when it blew up. One of them we’ve just passed. The other is ahead of us.”

“The Dead Region…” Kan shivered and asked no more questions.

The grey sky above the Dead Region slowly turned blue, a dark, evening blue where the first stars already twinkled.

Chapter 4. Meeting place

The ruins kept dragging on to the north. The land around them was flat and bare, so the only thing that stood between the travellers and a horizon here was a thin veil of dust raised by the chargas’ paws from the ground.

Kangassk noticed that at some point the ground began to slope in the direction of the Region’s centre. He soon understood why: the ground they walked on was in fact a bottom of a huge crater. The ruins there no longer looked like broken teeth sticking out of the ground, they were just piles of crushed stone and dust scattered along the way and formed a circular rampart by the crater’s centre. To climb it, Vlada and Kan had to dismount from their chargas and go on foot. The view from the top of the rampart was so alien it sent shivers down Kan’s back. In the former centre of the ancient catastrophic explosion stood a huge black cube, perfectly smooth, undamaged, and free from dust. A lonely man sat on the cube, his cloaked head bowed, his shoulders slouched. He leaned his heavily worn staff against one of the cube’s polished black walls. Silvered by the young moon, the staff shone through the night like a fantasy mage’s weapon would.

Vlada approached the man.

“Hello, Sereg,” she sighed. The sadness in her voice was so deep that even Kangassk who had no idea what it was about could feel it too.

“Hello, Vlada,” replied the man. He didn’t sound happy as well.

The man named Sereg removed his hood and stood up. He was so tall he towered above Vlada and Kan like a mountain but his physique didn’t match his height: Sereg was so thin he looked starved. Kan could not guess his age. The stranger’s hair was grey, either with age or with dust, there were dark shadows under his eyes as if he had been running or fighting for a long time. One moment his face seemed young yet but the next moment it didn’t, not after your eyes met his.

Now, when Vlada stood beside this strange man, she looked way older than her young face suggested as well.