A barista, smoking by the door in the early light, reluctantly told me they were about to open. She was eyeing my dirty clothes suspiciously.


    ‘Night shift’, I lied, and she nodded.


    ‘You with the team up the street, huh?’


    ‘Yeah, and I really need something caffeinated and hot.’


    ‘Sure thing. Must be awful, working in these conditions’, she said sympathetically.


    I didn’t contradict her, and we went in. The warmth wrapped around me and I shivered, realizing only then how cold I’d been. I took the cup of coffee gratefully, sat as far from the door as I could get, and rummaged through my backpack, thankful that the paramedics had brought it up with me. Luckily, Axel had been thoughtful enough to put some cash in one of the inner pockets. The first sip of cappuccino slid down my throat like a velvet blessing; my eyes closed in delight, I let the magic drink spread its invigorating warmth. There’s nothing better in the world than well-made coffee, I thought, taking a second sip. Catching the barista’s eye, I raised my cup to her.


    Feeling a little better, I fished around my pockets for my phone and began taking notes of everything that happened since I had left work the evening before. I’ll flesh them out later, when I have time; for now, I must not forget any detail. Typing frantically, fuelled by a second cappuccino, I took no notice of the early customers ordering and settling around me until my phone buzzed.


    ‘Out. Meet at the hospital? Front desk?’


    ‘Sure’, I replied immediately, gulping down the rest of my coffee, and going to pay.


    ‘See you around’, smiled the barista, her hand lingering on my fingers a little too long as she took the money. I nodded, my mind elsewhere, and headed out in the cold morning once more.


    The fresh wind slapping my face snapped my brain into frantic action; questions and memories bustled and fought for my attention, but nothing became any clearer. I needed to talk to Axel, and put some order in my thoughts.


    He wasn’t at the front desk, so I asked for directions and headed up to the second floor to see David. The hushed atmosphere and pale lights slowly calmed me down; and the frenzied thinking became mere concern – and guilt, tearing my innards apart, like my very own Prometheus’ eagle. I hugged myself absent-mindedly as I walked down the hall. In the early morning hours, the place seemed to be still asleep; nurses and doctors spoke in whispers, moving soundlessly from one room to another. It was warm, and after a while I had to take off my jacket and roll up my sleeves. The silence muted the buzz of the neons and the occasional beeping of some life-support machine, akin to a wordless song, hummed under one''s breath, slipping almost imperceptibly in my ears, and making me drowsy. It grew stronger as I moved on, though, gaining rhythm and clarity. Was it really someone singing? I glimpsed through each glass door that I passed at the still patients, deep in sleep or coma – then a sight stopped me dead in my tracks.


    She looked like Michelle, her face half-turned away from me – from the unruly mass of raven hair to the dimples that showed now and then as she sang wordlessly. And yet, it wasn’t her; for Michelle was lying on the bed, her warm dark skin now ashen, locks of curly hair stuck to her sweaty brow under a white bandana. A bouquet of ferns swayed gently in the air stirred by the slow dance of the other Michelle.


    ‘Rusanda?’


    Startled by the sound of Axel’s voice, she turned vividly. Lines of searing white light flared on her face. Taken aback and nearly blinded, I raised my arms in defence as the unexpected sight unleashed a rush of adrenaline.


    ‘Ru!’


    I turned towards Axel and he stepped back, his widened eyes fixed on me.


    ‘What?’


    His gaze followed my hands as I lowered them to look at him.


    ‘What is this?’, Axel whispered.


    I looked down, and forgot to blink.


    Under the Steri Strips, the gashes left by the rusalka’s claws burned white. Glimmering ice spread from them like living roots under our eyes, criss-crossing and entwining around my right forearm, sliding down my hand, until cristaline gloves covered everything from the elbow to the tips of my fingers. The wounds pulsated vividly underneath, as if pumping life into the moving ice.


    I stood transfixed, gaping, at a loss for words, my thoughts colliding in a hazy, brownian motion.


    ‘What is happening?’


    Were those my words, or Axel’s?


    The door slammed, startling me back to reality with a jolt. The other Michelle grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around.


    ‘Who are you?’, she asked brusquely, her light tattoos now dimming. ‘What are you doing?’


    ‘I…’ Wasn’t capable of coherent speech. All I could think was that they’ve seen it as well. It was real. I was not losing my mind.


    ‘Who are you?’, retorted Axel, pulling me protectively by his side and towering above the girl. She stood her ground, unimpressed.


    ‘What are you doing outside my sister’s room with that?’ Her voice was low and threatening as she leaned in and pointed at my ice-clad hand.


    ‘We’re… friends’, I managed to utter.


    ‘Like hell you are’, she snapped back, ‘coming here with your magic. What do you want to do to her?’


    I shrank away from her flaring eyes, cradling my right hand to my chest. ‘I… I don’t know what’s happening’, I confessed, feeling tears starting to sting my eyes. ‘I have no idea, I wish I did, believe me!’


    Axel’s arms enclosed me in their cocoon, and I hid my face in his chest. Too many feelings had built up over the past few days; too many questions had been assaulting me. Exhaustion gnawed at the walls I’d built in order to continue. They were cracking. It’s your fault, my inner voice whispered. You should have known. It’s your fault.


    Three bodies, slumped against the curbstone.


    Your fault.


    Axel’s sunken eyes and absent gaze.


    You should’ve known.


    Lilianne pinned against the wall, motionless.


    You should have done something.


    I pressed against his chest, trying to silence the cruel voice. My voice.


    ‘Rusanda, my daughter…’


    ‘You know what I am.’


    Did I? Did I really know anything, anything at all, that could help me, help them? Once more, I tried to understand, to find the tiniest of straws I could grasp at, and retain my sanity. My head seemed to burst under the strain.


    The walls crumbled.


    The first wave of pain hit me in the chest, and I collapsed against Axel. Agony tore my innards apart, spasm after spasm. I gulped for air. Each breath was a struggle; each surge of misery ripped through my ribs. An urge to howl rose in my throat. I bit my scarf to keep it down, clutching Axel’s jacket. Tightening his grip around me, he leant his cheek against my head. I hiccuped and snivelled and screamed silently. The tempest inside jolted me like a broken doll lost at sea. I coughed and cried, gasped and shuddered, until my overtaxed body gave in. Exhaustion swept through me like the last winds of the storm.


    Prostrate against Axel, I waited for the last shivers to pass.


    ‘Find us.’


    I breathed in, deeply.


    ‘We can help. Do not give up.’


    Patiently, Axel stroked my hair until I stopped trembling. Beyond the weariness, I felt a new strength building up.


    ‘Find the School, and prove us your will.’


    With a last deep breath, I steadied myself and fished for a napkin in my pockets.


    ‘It’s okay, I’m here’, Axel whispered in my ear. ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet and talk this through, shall we?’ Under the worried tone, his voice was tense.


    I offered him what I hoped was a reassuring smile, but my eyes were puffed and stingy. Knowing that emotions weren’t something he dealt with very well, I appreciated his offer even more. I would take most of it on myself, I decided, unwilling to add more weight on him. I had to be stronger.


    Forcing myself to turn around and face the other Michelle, I met her withering gaze and, painstakingly, still on the edge of bursting in tears again, held it.


    ‘I’m Rusanda, and this is Axel. We were there when they… she…’ My chin trembled.


    She kept her arms crossed, the light lines on her face dimmed but still threatening. ‘I don’t trust you. I can feel your pain is real, but still, I saw you prepare your magic in front of my sister’s door. What is it that you wanted to do to her?’, she glowered.


    ‘Nothing, I didn’t want to do anything!’, I insisted, fighting down a renewed wave of frustration and fear. ‘I can’t control it, I don’t even know where it’s coming from! Believe me’, I pleaded, ‘I wish I did!’


    Axel pulled me to his chest and took a step forward, leaning in to stare in the girl’s eyes. His voice was like the growl of the earth tearing apart. ‘Back off. Ru had no ill intent, and it is not her fault. I was there, and I witnessed it.’ This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    She threw her head back defiantly, still covering the door. ‘Fine. But I still don’t know what you’re doing here.’ Her tattoos blazed briefly, and I shielded my eyes, nearly blinded.


    ‘We just wanted to check on our friends’, I answered, still looking away. ‘You surprised me, that’s all. I swear I don’t know how this…’ I hesitated, then waved an arm vaguely, ‘... ice thing works. I meant Michelle no harm.’


    The girl stared at me for a long moment, as if pondering if she could believe me. ‘We need to talk’, she finally nodded. ‘There’s much I need to know before I decide how I feel about you. Both of you’, she scowled at Axel. ‘But not now, Michelle needs me still. I’m Lucie, by the way.’ She pulled a supermarket receipt out of a pocket and scribbled her number on the back. ‘Let’s meet tomorrow.’


    ‘Alright’, I said. She nodded sharply and returned to Michelle’s room. Soon, the fern leaves started to sway again in the breeze of her dance.


    I grabbed Axel’s arm and turned on my heels.


    ‘Where are you heading to? Exit is the other way’, Axel told me with a confused glance.


    ‘I still want to see David’, I murmured, despite fearing another surge of guilt and pain. I owed him at least that.


    He was a few rooms down the corridor. I stood in front of the door, looking through the glass panel, and gathering my will to turn the knob.


    ‘I’ll be with Lilianne’, Axel said quietly, kissed me on the hair, and left.


    I steeled myself and went in.


    David lay on the bed, his face turned away from me, his warm, tanned skin now ashen like Michelle’s. I sat down next to him, and, hesitatingly, pushed a lock of damp hair away from his forehead. He looked far from peaceful. His thick eyebrows knitted together, the clenched jaw, the snarl that curled his lips contorted his face into a mask of hostility, as if he was fighting off a nightmare. This wasn’t the David I remembered; his expression troubled me. Uneasily, I rose to leave, but guilt kept me anchored in the room.


    ‘I’m here’, I whispered, bending towards him. ‘It’s my fault, and I’ll find a way to help you.’ A sob tightened my chest and drowned the last words. ‘I won’t give up’.


    His eyelids fluttered briefly, and he seemed to frown. Had he heard? Was he just caught in a dream? With a pang of remorse, I headed for the door.


    Axel was waiting outside, and we strode silently down to the exit. ‘Where do you want to go?’, he asked, exhaustion palpable in his voice.


    ‘Home, please.’


    ▁▁▁


    I surfaced from a tormented sleep in the evening, struggling to free myself from its quicksands. A headache tore at my forehead, and my eyes felt so dry and painful I could barely keep them open. By my side, Axel seemed to fight the same nightmares I did, trapped in the bedsheets dampened by sweat. Clumsily, I managed to make myself some coffee, and since then I’ve been curled on the bean-bag with a blanket and the laptop, writing feverishly, only interrupted by regular coffee-making breaks. My thoughts have become clearer; if it was the effect of caffeine, or a consequence of marking everything down, I couldn’t say.


    ▁▁▁


    A groan came from the bedroom. Through the open door, I caught a glimpse of Axel rubbing at his eyes, stretching, and disentangling his long limbs from the sheets.


    ‘What year is it?’, he mumbled, stumbling into the living-room and falling down on the couch. I poured the last of the coffee into a mug, and he took a sip gratefully. I settled down next to him, prodding his shoulder with my head like cats do, and he put an arm around me. We drank our coffee quietly, enjoying each other’s presence, and steeling ourselves for the conversation to come. After a while, Axel put his cup on the floor with a sigh.


    ‘So… What happened?’


    I passed him the laptop. He scanned the few hours worth of writing, sometimes scrolling back for details, without uttering a word. I closed my eyes, waiting, fearful of what he’d believe. After a while, he sighed and put the laptop away. Silence stretched between us, and I could hardly breathe.


    ‘Let’s see what we know so far.’


    His voice sounded neutral, as if he was restraining himself from saying something else.


    ‘I’ve seen’ – the word was stressed – ‘someone send David to the ground, and…’, his fists clenched, ‘attack my sister. I didn’t see this… person… leave with them.’


    Axel hesitated when he said it. Was he also questioning what he had witnessed, the details that were hard to believe, but also hard to ignore?


    ‘But I’ve also seen what… Lucie was doing. I’ve also seen your… hand.’


    The words seemed to be struggling to leave his mouth.


    ‘Rusanda, I…’ He took a deep breath, and I finally looked up at him. He was rubbing at his eyes, grimacing. ‘I don’t know what to make of this. It doesn’t make sense. That shaft… it has been full of stuck bones for two centuries. Everyone has seen it. And the galleries of the Carrefour des Morts… where had they gone? Why was everything normal yesterday? I’ve been wondering if I have hit my head, until I read your notes. I know what I’ve seen. It’s…’


    I shuffled closer to him and put my head on his shoulder, searching for the comfort his presence had always given me.


    ‘I know.’ My voice was hoarse. ‘And I’m glad you were – are – with me.’ His arm tightened around me.


    ‘I don’t have any reasonable explanation to offer’, Axel finally answered. ‘And saying it’s… magic… I have difficulties with that. This is the twenty-first century. But…’


    He was still struggling to articulate his thoughts. I didn’t interrupt him.


    ‘Look, Ru. We do not know what actually happened, or is happening. We can’t explain it, but neither accept it’s… something else, just like that. It goes against common sense, against every law and rule we know. On the other hand, we never lied to each other, so I can only believe you, despite… how incredible and illogical it sounds.’


    His words filled my chest with a warmth that threatened to overflow. I hugged him tight as my sight became blurry, and hid my face in the hollow of his shoulder. ‘Thank you so much for saying this.’


    Axel held me tight, patting my hair like he used to do every time I needed comforting. I knew he was there, and would stay there, for me.


    ‘We’ll figure this out together’, he whispered back. ‘Whatever this is. And even if I can’t conceive it – right now, at least –, I’ll consider it a possibility until we know. We’ll follow every lead until…’ I felt his body tense, and pulled away from him. The words came through clenched teeth. ‘Until I find whoever did this to Lilianne.’


    He looked frightening, and I stayed quiet, offering him space. Axel, too, knew I was there, and he would come back when ready. I put the ibrik on the stove and slowly brewed another pot of coffee, biding my time, watching the foam form and bubble gently. He had admitted seeing the ice on my hand, too, and Lucie had been a witness as well. The relief I felt at the thought was strong enough to overcome the angst of the new realm that had opened before us, and the fear of the unknown that beckoned me down its path.


    I took the ibrik back to the couch. The coffee’s invigorating perfume filled the room, so thick I could almost taste it in the back of my mouth.


    ‘I wonder what Lucie has to say’, I began again, pouring the coffee carefully. Axel cupped his mug in both hands, breathing in deeply.


    ‘I do hope we’ll start figuring some things out’, he answered after a while.


    And so did I. I knew that he needed to do, to understand and plan ahead – to act. Brooding over incomprehensible things was already taking its toll on him.


    ‘Until we meet her, there’s something we can try to work on’, I offered, and his eyes lit up. ‘They said “Find the School”. What do you think that means? Where could it be?’


    ‘Well…’, he pondered. ‘You tell me. They are part of your folklore. Isn’t there something we can use in one of your books?’


    I  jumped to my feet and rushed to the chaotic piles on my shelves, searching feverishly and cursing my lack of organization.


    ‘There should be something in this one… and this one… and… Argh!’, I exclaimed in frustration, dumping them all on the couch. ‘Here, help me out.’


    ‘They’re all written in Romanian’, Axel observed coolly after leafing through them. I sighed dramatically and threw my hands in the air, making him snort. Good, I mused, smiling internally.


    ‘Let’s see… page 304… Here we are: “they retire under the ground for seven years without seeing anyone, after which they are taught at the school of Solomonars”. That’s it. And this other one… Now this one is a bit longer: “they travel to the end of the world, and they live in a cave there and write on a stone table all the sciences and the teachings that are in this world”. I’m translating it as I go, sorry if it doesn’t sound very good.’


    Axel simply nodded and waved at me to continue.


    ‘Where was I? “And there, they stay as if in school and there are many of them, but not all become Solomonars, because they have to go through difficult trials.” Trials?’, I raised my eyes from the book, panicked. ‘There are trials?’


    ‘Maybe it was only some sort of exam’, Axel tried to reassure me. ‘It’s a school, after all. Does it say anything more?’


    I picked up the book again; my hands were a little shaky.


    ‘In this school’, I read, and winced at how shrill my voice sounded. After a deep breath, I continued: ‘“In this school, millstones are hanging from the ceiling by a thread, on the verge of falling.” What?!’


    ‘Keep going, Ru.’


    I spit out the rest of the sentence in a single breath: ‘“And those who wish to become Solomonars must pass beneath these stones and many turn away in fear.”’ I looked at him. ‘“And there are other trials as well, which are harsher and harsher”’, I whispered the conclusion, wide-eyed.


    ‘Worry about that when we get there’, Axel said. ‘We still have to find out where it is, and then what they want from you. No one said you have to become a full-fledged wizard, did they now?’


    ‘Okay, alright’, I gave in, already feeling tired again. ‘Let’s try to think matter-of-factly, as if this made any kind of sense. Where could “the end of the world” be? The Stonemaster said they hid underground in Paris, but that can mean everywhere - the subway, the sewers…’


    ‘If they are stone masters, they would need, or look for, stone, not concrete’, Axel pointed out after a moment of reflexion. ‘Which means they might be somewhere in the catacombs, but then someone would have noticed.’


    ‘Unless I really crossed into this other world. Remember, it felt like I was there for hours, and you said I’d been gone for moments. And also’, I brightened up suddenly as I remembered, ‘the twins linked arms and created some sort of portal for the Stonemaster to come through! He really wasn’t in the same… reality… as I was.’


    ‘So, we have to find a place that fits the description, and that isn’t necessarily real, or accessible for everyone. Which means the entire network is a possibility.’


    He rubbed at the bridge of his nose as I stared at him, wheels spinning.


    ‘Axel… when that… person… attacked us, we were at the Carrefour des Morts. The Crossroads of the Dead’. I stressed the word. ‘At Saint Andrew’s Night, when the gates between worlds open, in a place where roads meet. It might be that names are significant – maybe their meaning can be a link to something else. Is there any place in the catacombs that comes to mind? Maybe at the edge of the network?’


    Axel pondered for a while, then reached for his backpack and fished out a map. ‘Well, there’s the Cité Universitaire right here’, he pointed, ‘but the galleries underneath are quite unstable – and besides, it’s not exactly at the edge of anything.’


    ‘It’s only existed since the early 1900’s’, I said after looking it up. ‘I think the Stonemasters would have chosen an older place. I have this feeling they’ve been here for longer.’


    ‘Hmmmm. There’s also the Lycée Montaigne…’


    ‘1891. Anything else?’


    ‘Faculté de Pharmacie?’


    ‘1864. That’s more like it, unless you can think of another place’.


    ‘Ecole des Mines? That would be the last one…’


    ‘Now… that’s promising. Created by Louis XVI in 1783’, I read. ‘In its actual building since 1815.’ I pondered. ‘The school of Mines, harboring Stonemasters. Sounds like something we can work with. Where is it?’


    ‘Quite to the North’, he showed me, ‘not quite at the northern end of the network, but almost.’


    We looked at each other, and something like hope lit his clear blue eyes. I smiled, my determination to fight renewed. We will find them.


    Axel nodded, and rose.


    Questions for the readers</a>