Classes were finally over.

  Kael and Jeff left the building without exchanging a single unnecessary word, their footsteps echoing against the still-warm asphalt of the afternoon. They passed through the school gate, turned left—once again—and began the climb toward their neighborhood.

  Kael kept his hands in his pockets and cast a discreet glance toward the horizon.

  That’s where the car usually comes from… he thought, his heart already quickening.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  As expected, the car burst out from around the corner, at the exact same second as in the previous loop. Same speed. Same angle.

  But this time… Kael did nothing.

  He stayed frozen, breath caught, watching.

  And yet…

  Jeff, beside him, reacted as if someone had shoved him.

  He was hurled violently to the ground, arms forward, instinctively rolling in a clumsy but controlled motion.

  The car sped past without slowing, just a few meters away. Then, just like before… it vanished.

  Kael didn’t move.

  Mouth slightly open.

  Eyes locked.

  What the—?

  Jeff sprang back to his feet, furious, his knees scraped raw.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Kael?!” he shouted.

  He was pointing at the empty space in front of him, livid.

  “Why did you shove me to the ground, damn it?!”

  Kael didn’t answer.

  He hadn’t touched him.

  Not this time.

  And yet, Jeff was acting exactly as if he had.

  “The car was on the road, idiot! Where else would it go?! That’s what roads are for!”

  Jeff was yelling at nothing.

  As if he were reliving a scene carved into his body.

  As if the past itself had forced him to react… even without an immediate cause.

  Kael took a step back, his stomach twisting.

  What’s happening?

  He looked at his friend like an actor trapped in a script already performed.

  A puppet bound to an invisible script.

  Jeff, meanwhile, had straightened up and was wiping his knees, muttering under his breath. Then he fixed Kael with an annoyed look.

  “Come on. Move it. I want to go home.”

  Kael stayed there for a few more seconds, unable to say anything.

  Then he started walking again, short steps, catching up to Jeff without a word.

  Kael didn’t speak for the rest of the walk.

  His thoughts were spinning in circles, like a jammed gear grinding against itself.

  Jeff, on the other hand, kept talking as usual. He rambled about his day—how he’d almost fallen asleep in philosophy class, how the climbing instructor had gotten on his nerves again with her ridiculous instructions.

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  But Kael wasn’t listening anymore.

  Not really.

  It wasn’t what Jeff was saying that unsettled him.

  It was the fact that he was saying it exactly like last time.

  Word for word.

  When they reached their houses, Jeff stretched lazily, rested his bag against his leg, and said with a grin:

  “Finally home! We’re walking to school together tomorrow?”

  Kael nodded.

  A slow gesture.

  Almost absent.

  As if tomorrow still meant anything.

  Jeff raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He turned around, ready to head down the path leading to his house.

  “Jeff.”

  The word slipped out almost against Kael’s will.

  Jeff stopped. Turned around, puzzled.

  Kael stepped forward. Slowly.

  He held out his hand.

  Jeff looked at it for a moment, surprised… then smiled.

  And shook it.

  A brief contact.

  Simple.

  Kael remained there, alone.

  He stared for a long moment at the hand that had just clasped his friend’s.

  Then, under his breath, he murmured:

  “That’s what I thought…”

  His gaze drifted into the void, as if he were trying to pierce its invisible structure.

  “Him too… he’s connected to the Elan.

  One way or another.”

  Kael climbed the steps to his house slowly.

  Each step felt twice as heavy.

  His legs were shaking.

  Not from exhaustion.

  Not really.

  From fear.

  He placed his hand on the doorknob.

  Hesitated.

  Then turned it.

  The door opened in a heavy silence.

  He stepped inside.

  Closed it gently, as if making noise might shatter everything.

  He didn’t announce himself.

  The hallway was there. Identical.

  The same sheen on the hardwood floor, the same lukewarm sunlight filtering through the curtains.

  Nothing.

  Absolutely nothing had changed.

  He swallowed.

  Please… not her.

  His jaw clenched.

  A shiver ran along the back of his neck.

  Then a voice—familiar. Soft. Unexpected.

  “Kael?”

  He closed his eyes.

  Please…

  He opened them again, slowly. Painfully slowly.

  And she was there.

  At the far end of the hallway.

  An angelic smile fixed on her lips.

  The same one.

  The smile that had reassured him so deeply.

  The smile that belonged to a time… long gone.

  “Oh, there you are, my little rascal.”

  He stepped forward.

  She was watching him, slightly confused.

  He said nothing.

  Just one step after another.

  As if drawn toward her.

  Like in a dream where every movement costs a piece of yourself.

  He raised his hand.

  Please.

  And he gently placed it against his mother’s cheek.

  A wave.

  A shock of needles and warmth.

  Shivers.

  And a thought that detonated in his mind:

  I know why she’s here.

  He pulled his hand back, slowly.

  As if it had been burned.

  “I understand…” he whispered.

  A single tear traced a salty line down his cheek.

  No sobbing.

  Just… that immense sadness.

  Indescribable.

  His mother, unsettled, gently placed her hand on his arm.

  “What’s happening, Kael?”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  He stepped back.

  Turned away.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice hollow.

  He went into his room.

  Closed the door.

  And slowly collapsed against it, as if all his strength had suddenly drained away.

  He drew his knees up to his chest.

  Rested his head against them.

  He stayed there.

  A few seconds.

  Or minutes.

  Or longer.

  Then his eyes slowly lifted.

  Toward the desk.

  And they were there.

  The three volumes.

  Lying side by side.

  Dark. Silent. Unmoving.

  And Cause, still open.

  Still there.

  And still blank.

  A soft knock sounded.

  Kael slowly lifted his head, pulled out of his apathetic state.

  “Kael? Come out. We need to talk,” his mother’s voice said through the door.

  He closed his eyes for a moment. Inhaled.

  Then he rose slowly, as if every movement demanded a titanic effort.

  Yes, of course… the saber.

  He opened the door.

  She was waiting for him, arms crossed, looking more worried than stern.

  In her hands: the saber.

  He stepped into the hallway, eyes fixed on the object.

  “Can you explain this?” she asked gently.

  Kael took the saber—without haste, but with firmness.

  He looked at it for a second, then raised his eyes to her.

  A calm smile formed on his face. Almost reassuring.

  “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  And without giving her time to respond, he turned around and went back into his room.

  He set the saber gently on the bed.

  But his mother didn’t leave it at that.

  She followed him, stopping at the half-open doorway.

  “Kael, wait… are you going to tell me what’s going on eventually? You’re acting as if—”

  He raised a hand to stop her.

  “I’m going to the library.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off:

  “I know. I’m not the kind of person who likes books, or who ever sets foot in that place.”

  He grabbed his jacket on the way out and slid his foot into his shoes.

  “And yet, I’m going back.”

  He looked at her one last time, his gaze both distant and resolute.

  “I’ll be back soon.”

  And without any further ceremony, he stepped outside and slammed the door shut behind him.