At home, everything was the same as before.

  The same hallway.

  The same walls.

  The same scent of old wood and oil paints.

  Suddenly I realized how much I had missed my house. Its creaks. Its uneven floorboards. The silence — which now felt like the most beautiful silence in the world.

  Alexander walked toward the fireplace.

  I froze.

  The fireplace was no longer simple.

  Not the modest niche with the cast-iron door I was used to.

  Now it was... magnificent.

  Vintage, with carved metal inlays, patterns resembling Fliirus vines. The stone was a deep graphite shade, and inside — copper lining glowing with soft gold.

  "Do you like it?" he asked.

  "It's stunning," I whispered.

  He smiled faintly.

  Neatly stacked logs lay beside it.

  "Shall we test it?" he suggested.

  "Let's," I said.

  He lit the fire easily, almost playfully.

  The flames rose quickly, softly, without smoke. Warm light spread through the room.

  I went to the kitchen and made us hot chocolate. Real. Thick. With cinnamon.

  We sat on the floor — on cushions — by the fire.

  And it felt so good.

  Strange.

  After everything I had seen and learned recently — sitting like this... felt like the truest miracle.

  The fire crackled.

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  Shadows moved across the walls.

  And it felt... like home.

  I watched the flames and finally asked:

  "What happens next?"

  He didn't answer right away.

  "With Phil?" I continued. "With us? How do I live now, knowing all this?"

  He turned to me.

  There were no secrets in his eyes. No games. Only calm.

  "Don't worry," he said softly. "I'm with you."

  I instinctively touched the flower pendant he had given me. It was warm.

  "It protects you," Alexander said, noticing the gesture. "Completely. You can live your old life. Go to the store. Paint your pictures. Brew coffee. Argue with neighbors."

  I smiled.

  The fire crackled. Alexander sat on the floor, leaning back against the armchair, watching the flames. There was such rare stillness on his face that I didn't want to disturb it.

  "I'll be right back," I said, and went to the bathroom.

  The light was soft. The mirror slightly fogged from the warm air.

  I stopped.

  The wall.

  I slowly stepped closer and pressed my palm against it.

  It was hot.

  Not just warm — alive. Beneath the surface something seemed to move. Pulse. Deeply.

  My heart began to race.

  "Alexander!" I called.

  He appeared almost immediately.

  I didn't remove my hand from the wall.

  "This wall is hot again. It's been like this before. Something strange. I don't know why. At first I thought something was broken... or maybe a pipe ran through it. But now I'm afraid it might be dangerous."

  He stepped closer. Stood beside me.

  And touched the wall too.

  It seemed to respond — the heat grew stronger, yet softer. As if the house... recognized him.

  Alexander looked at me.

  "The house reacts to my presence," he said quietly. "Nothing's broken. Everything is fine."

  He smiled slightly.

  "A good house."

  I looked into his eyes.

  And in that moment, the heat from the wall was no longer the main thing.

  He stood so close I could feel his breath. His warmth. His calm slowly becoming mine.

  "You're sure?" I whispered.

  He lifted his hand and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.

  "Absolutely."

  Behind us, the wall seemed to breathe.

  In the mirror's reflection, I saw us — together. His hand at my waist. My palm still pressed to the hot surface.

  The silence grew dense.

  I slowly turned fully toward him.

  Warmth spread inside me — not from the wall. From him.

  He leaned closer.

  Between us — only breath.

  And at that moment, the wall behind my back pulsed stronger than ever.

  ?

  Somewhere far away.

  Very far.

  Underground.

  Beneath a mountain.

  An enormous mass of metal stood in blackness.

  Its surface was smooth yet alive — dark veins shimmering within it like frozen lava.

  Before it towered Grun.

  Huge.

  A stone body covered in cracks.

  Eyes narrow, glowing with cold gray fire from within.

  He did not move.

  He watched.

  And within the metallic mass, like a mirror, an image appeared.

  Molly.

  Alexander.

  The bathroom. The hot wall. Their faces close together.

  Grun slowly turned his head.

  The image changed.

  Phil's house.

  The newborn Lactimols. Small. Glowing.

  Their energy pulsed softly within the womb.

  Grun's stone fingers tightened.

  He leaned closer to the metal mass.

  And spoke.

  His voice was low. Heavy. Like rock splitting.

  "The Lactimols are born."

  The cracks across his body filled with dark light.

  "But they will not rejoice for long."

  To his left, something shifted in the darkness.

  Shadows.

  Tall. Inhuman. Massive.

  Grun slowly turned his head.

  "The time has come."

  The shadows stepped closer.

  Metal filings fell from beneath their bodies.

  "Awaken the sleepers," he commanded.

  "Raise the fused."

  He looked again at the metal mass.

  For a second, Molly's face flared within the surface.

  A stone finger touched it.

  "Ferrum et Saxum. Fiat."

  The final word sounded like a seal.

  Like a sentence.

  Deep within the Earth, something heavy shifted.

  The metal mass trembled.

  The image vanished.

  In the darkness, a dull stone laughter echoed.

  ?

  In the bathroom, I knew none of this.

  I was only looking into Alexander's eyes.

  And the wall behind my back was hot.

  Too hot.