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The melting light of a wax candle casts shadows on the stone wall of a small apartment. In the concentrated density of darkness, it is the only source of light, and the beating of Tholindis's heart under Rerir's ear is the only sound within it.
Her constricted chest rises and falls measuredly, not disturbing the primitive rhythm, like the ticking of a clock. On the bed, which in the future was meant to be their marital, she runs her fingers through his hair, combs through the strands, winds his curls around them. What is she thinking about, he wonders? Is it the same old research at the Academy?
Rerir's eyes are tightly shut, his eyelids firmly closed under a heavy layer of lead and the lulling beat of his beloved's heart. In the apartment, as is always the case in the underground kingdom, it is indecently cold, and Tholindis sniffles again—she's caught a cold, the silly girl, she didn't keep up with the rapidly changing weather.
Rerir must have scolded her, or to be more precise, once pleaded with her to choose, just once, the warm sheep's wool sweater she bought on sale. But can Tholindis ever be persuaded? Even if a terrible threat hung over her like a sharp blade, she would continue to argue until her dying day.
An accidental, creeping thought about the death of his beloved woman makes Rerir shudder, and he exhales noisily into the fragile atmosphere of their calm, desperately banishing this nightmare.
Tholindis. Tholindis cannot die, how could you even propose such a thing? She is the sun scorching, foaming at the sunset of a hot day, crimson and scarlet, like wine in a glass. The role of constancy has been assigned to her, her chest must rise and fall, her heart must beat, and her ringing laughter must flow. No force in this world can take her from Rerir, and would he even allow it to happen?
He clenches his palms into fists and finally pulls away from Tholindis, tearing himself out of the sweetest slumber and her intoxicating embrace. He doesn't like thinking about her death. He is so insolent that he is ready to challenge the very Heavens of this world—let them just dare to lay a hand on her tender soul.
The candle in the distance still burns, shedding endless wax.
«Darling?» the bed rustles behind Rerir, «Is something wrong? You haven't been yourself lately, always lost in thought, and as if you're avoiding me...»
Tholindis touches Rerir's shoulder with a tender hand and clings to him, covering him with her warmth. She hangs onto him, barely pulling him back into bed, unwilling to disrupt this rare moment of evening peace. Her lips touch Rerir's earlobe, washing over it with her hot breath, capable of driving any man mad.
«Come on, my dear, lie back down... You have nowhere to rush, and neither do I. We have an entire eternity... Lie back down, if only for me, your wife...»
Wife. No, that can't be it..!
Tholindis's tenacious hands lock around Rerir's waist, pulling him back, even as he tries to escape them. Tholindis was never his wife, and never will be. They were never wed, didn't have time, couldn't, and weren't able to, but her phantom, distorted by his fantasies and lust, continues to whisper twistedly.
«Have I upset you, darling? Where are you running? I am here, and that's all we need, you and I», the murmuring cantilena is replaced by an alien, male baritone, and instead of tender hands that have never seen blood, someone's very coarse ones embrace him.
«Go away! No... No! You are not her, get out!» screams Rerir, growling and pushing the stranger away from himself. «Don't you dare touch me, you, a vile spawn...!»
Their little apartment, a refuge from all the world's woes, is flooded by a wave of salt sea. Icy water penetrates right into Rerir's lungs, disorienting and confusing him, and across the sheet, someone crawls predatorily towards him, whose face burns with a blue flame and stretches out towards him lewdly, unnaturally, as if trying to pull the soul from the shackles of his heart.
It grabs him by the face, strokes his cheeks in a manic caress, and stares directly into his eyes with a voluptuous smile on its lips. The stranger, or rather a vulture, aims for his heart.
«Don't run away, darling. We still have an eternity to burn together».