An unknown amount of time passed.

  Minutes, perhaps.

  Or hours.

  Time had come apart, lost its shape.

  I felt something wet. Warm. It brushed against my face, rubbed along my cheek, my chin.

  Then—sound.

  Voices.

  "...she's coming around."

  "Wait..."

  "Molly?"

  And in that same instant memory crashed over me like a wave.

  Oh God.

  I...

  I hit him.

  I killed a man.

  Panic detonated inside me and I snapped my eyes open.

  I blinked.

  Where am I?

  I tried to lift myself up—and only then noticed the plants. Everywhere. Too many. Leaves, vines, soft light, humid air. This was not a hospital.

  I didn't even have time to ask a single question.

  Because something above me blocked out the light.

  I looked up—and my heart dropped.

  A giant bird.

  It was so close I could see every imperfection on its beak. The head—massive, alive. The eyes—intelligent, calm. The beak slowly opened.

  Inside was a tongue.

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  Strange.

  Long. Blue. Undulating like a living current.

  I froze, unable even to breathe.

  "Don't worry, dear," the bird said in a human voice. Calm. Almost gentle. "Now."

  A drop of liquid fell from the tip of its tongue.

  It landed on my forehead.

  Warm. Thick. And immediately began to spread—over my skin, to my temples, into my brows... seeping into my eyes.

  I gasped and instinctively jerked up, rubbing my face, blinking, trying to rid myself of the sensation.

  And then—

  My body released.

  As if someone had carefully removed a tight iron band that had been squeezing my chest the entire time. My breathing evened out. My thoughts slowed. The fear retreated.

  Warmth came.

  Deep. Real.

  "You need to rest a little longer, dear," the bird said. "Your memories will settle into place on their own."

  I was gently laid back down.

  Leaves whispered softly.

  I managed to think only one thing:

  So... I'm still alive.

  And I fell asleep.

  Again, an unknown amount of time passed.

  It was that strange sensation when consciousness doesn't return in a jolt, but cautiously, as if afraid to wake itself.

  Someone was adjusting my blanket.

  Slowly. Carefully.

  And muttering something.

  "...pollen..." a voice murmured nearby. "Hm. Weaker. Yes... definitely not as strong as before..."

  Pause.

  "She should have regained consciousness by now..."

  I opened my eyes a fraction. Not abruptly—just a millimeter. Enough to see, but not to be noticed.

  I was in the same place as before.

  Everything drowned in greenery. Plants everywhere—alive, moist, breathing. Vines descended from the ceiling, leaves rustled softly as if whispering to one another. The air was dense, warm, smelling faintly sweet and herbal.

  And beside me stood a creature.

  Any reasonable person in my place should have screamed. In panic. In terror. Until their throat tore.

  But I wasn't afraid.

  Not at all.

  As if fear had simply been left out. Or carefully removed in advance. I even thought briefly: they must have given me something... pills? mixed something in...

  I just watched.

  It was not a bird.

  Its height was human.

  The face—or muzzle—extended forward into a large beak, but beneath it, slightly lower, was a mouth... with lips that were moving now, continuing to mutter.

  The creature wore a robe. A real one. Medical. And a white cap, slightly askew.

  There was a large hump beneath the robe.

  The hands were almost human. In shape. In movement. But the skin glistened, as if perpetually damp, or coated in a thin film. Here and there small hairs protruded—sparse, uneven, strange.

  And—

  A tail.

  Long. Flexible. Greenish. Covered in something between fur and moss. It lay on the floor, moving faintly with each motion of its owner.

  I had seen these creatures before.

  In that second-floor apartment. In that room.

  They were the same kind.

  The creature hadn't noticed I was watching.

  It was completely focused on its task: smoothing the blanket, adjusting the sheet, checking something. Occasionally it tilted its head like a doctor consulting an internal checklist.

  "...yes, yes..." it muttered. "Reaction stable... but the pollen... strange... must tell Guna... absolutely must..."

  I lay still.

  And for the first time, a thought came to me that was truly chilling—not frightening, but clear:

  If this isn't a dream...

  ...then I am looking at someone who absolutely should not exist.

  And stranger still—

  The creature looked like it belonged here.

  My leg began to itch unbearably. Of all times—now. Not a tickle, but as if a separate nerve with a bad temper had settled under my skin. It was impossible to endure.

  I moved sharply, reached down, and with obvious relief scratched my leg.

  The creature stepped back smoothly—no suddenness, no fear. Then it raised a hand and touched something hanging from the ceiling near the door.

  It looked... strange.

  A long blue icicle, as if made of jelly. Semi-transparent, softly glowing from within, it swayed slightly at the touch, almost alive. A faint ripple ran through it.

  The creature turned toward me.

  "Hello," it said in a steady, unexpectedly warm voice.

  "My name is Wanda. I am helping you recover."

  It tilted its head—a nearly human gesture.

  "Please don't worry. You are completely safe."

  I opened my mouth to respond—to ask, to shout, to at least say what is happening—

  But I didn't get the chance.

  Fast footsteps sounded.

  Sharp. Confident. Nothing like Wanda's careful movements.

  The vines at the entrance parted—

  And Alexander stepped inside.