She floated alone in a soft cobalt fog that cradled her in a loving embrace. The warmth of its hold calmed the turmoil in her mind, easing away doubts, chasing away fears.

  Yet a question remained; small, but persistent… soft, but insistent.

  Who am I?

  In the distance, a figure strode towards her through the haze. She frowned. The figure’s face looked familiar, yet she couldn’t place where, or why. Odd, four eyes and three slits for a nose was a face she expected to remember. A simple robe adorned the figure and hid the shape of their body. No hair covered their scalp, nor beard their face. Or even eyebrows—which made sense, four eyebrows would look bizarre.

  The figure stopped a few feet away.

  “Who are you?” she asked the figure.

  “You may call me Yustitsiya, for I am justice,” the figure said, their voice a soft lilt that carried no hint of gender.

  She considered this, then asked, “Who am I?”

  “You know who you are.”

  That made sense. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

  Soft, unintelligible whispers flitted through the haze around them as she mulled over Yustitsiya’s words. Despite their confidence in her knowledge of who she was, the answer eluded her. She frowned. Or did it?

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  “I am…” she began, but the answer fled her grasp.

  Yustitsiya watched her, their face betraying a hint of… curiosity?

  “I am,” she said again, then paused. She knew the answer. Just say it.

  The image of a young man flickered in her mind, his white hair and narrow face reminded her of… who? His name couldn’t be important, otherwise she’d remember it.

  However, the question continued to plague her but thick wool tangled her thoughts and obscured them.

  Not once did Yustitsiya move, not even to blink.

  The haze swallowed the hollow pops as she tugged at her fingers. She needed to talk to her son, tell him she loved him before she left.

  A frown tugged at her brow. Mikhail, that was his name, wasn’t it?

  The wool in her mind cleared and a rush of memories slammed into her, making her gasp. “I know who I am,” Elana said.

  Yustitsiya smiled and inclined their head.

  “Where are we?” Elana asked, turning a full circle. The voices continued to whisper, but Elana couldn’t see where they came from. Indeed, the swirling mist was empty.

  “This is Rassudok. It is not a physical place, but a world of the mind. The world of the Sila.”

  “Sila?”

  “Yes. Uzhas is only your name for us,” Yustitsiya said.

  “What are you?”

  “Now is not the occasion. While time does move slower here, Chernov already rises, and you are too weak to stop him.”

  “Perhaps,” Elana said, “but together we are strong. Show me how to use… you, Sila, to fight him.”

  A flicker of irritation passed over Yustitsiya’s face. “There is no time. I must possess your physical body so I can face Chernov. I will let you return after.”

  Elana chewed her lower lip as she stared at Yustitsiya; though she hated to admit it, they were right. She blew out a long sigh. “All right, defeat Chernov.”