disgusting smell of blood and triumphant roar of killers, resurrected as the Ghost of the past, enveloped the consciousness… He took his hand away. Nameless face of the nightmare was outlined as a clear image; he glanced at Iona, who was continuing her faltering story. – It had got light, I got up and, shouting, screaming for mother… mother and brother, escaped from the house and ran. I was running on and on but soon I fell freezing. Then I woke up in your hands… Who are you?
– Iona. – he stood up, walked around the desk and, having appeared in front of her, got down on one knee and put a hand on the head of the child. He replied: – ion, no matter who I am and where I am from. Only one thing is important: what I am now. Understand, I'm a wanderer, lonely aloof from life, I do not exist! I am neither alive nor dead; my heart isn’t beating. Perhaps those who killed your family, and the same as I am; but don't be scared, please! Yet we are not the one; I destroyed the chains; but I’m hitherto bounded with a hidden chain. You can't understand. Iona, – he again lifted his look descended for a moment. – Iona, I will prevent the Darkness; I will die, but you will live. I'll take you away, nothing will be able to hurt you, nothing bad will happen to you; I swear, Jonah, I swear before heaven and earth, to protect you from now on! Do you hear me…
– It's here… – with glassy look, she said in a constrained voice
The sun went in. Luminous fringe dropped farewell rays and the twilight deepened. Scott Renter, casting a stern look at the door, said quietly:
– Go upstairs.
At the door, leaning against the wall, there was a huge katana; Iona, stepping on the stairs turned back. Wanderer’s figure was the picture of strength and determination; his fingers touched the handle. Sliding down the cold steel his hand firmly grabbed the sheath. He walked out, leaving the cloak, leaving the girl, leaving the light, and stepped forward into the darkness. Having moved away from the house, Wanderer faced the frightening gray horizon.
There was silence, the shining of the stars, the sons’ of Light eyes, and frozen tears of heaven. The whispering as echo of pain, as a silent, roaring torturer has plunged into consciousness, entering the brain, covering it with countless, endless voices. And as suddenly as the whisper collapsed into his brain frightening silence descended.