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The trial lasted endlessly. Each side, each organization had to speak and come to one conclusion: Eva Stratt was guilty.
As expected, she became a scapegoat.
Three months ago, she still thought she could handle it. She believed she would endure. Mentally, yes. But her body was already giving up. Sleepless nights came one after another, and her fingers started to twitch in ways she could not always control. Every day it became harder just to stay steady.
The courthouse was cold even inside. White lights fell from the ceiling and reflected off the floor. People spoke quietly, but even whispers felt too loud here.
Eva was sitting in the corridor. Papers were next to her, but she was not reading them anymore. She already knew them by heart. Another hearing. Another day that would change nothing.
She did not notice Carl at first.
He stepped out from the shadow of the corridor and stopped next to her. He was holding a bag.
“This is your new passport, spare clothes, and keys. The helicopter will be here in an hour,” he said.
Eva did not look up right away.
“I am staying here. I knew what I was getting into.”
“You owe nothing to anyone,” he said calmly. “You already gave everything to humanity. Now they are tearing you apart. Soon there will be nothing left of you.”
He nodded at her hand. It was shaking, and she tried to hold it still with her other hand, like she could control it.
She did not answer.
Carl moved the bag slightly closer to her.
“This is my payment for all of humanity,” he said. “From this day on, Eva Stratt will stop paying for her decisions.”
That was how Eva ended up here, at the edge of the world, where a green forest stretched on one side and mountains rose on the other. She had never seen winter like this in Europe. The weather changed quickly, from heavy snowstorms to bright sun in a single day.
On rare clear days, the snow shined so brightly that it hurt to look at it. In those moments, she felt like breathing was easier. Most of the time she worked with a shovel, digging out her car and clearing the way out of the house.
The other four houses in the settlement looked abandoned, as if no one lived there in winter. But sometimes she saw footprints near her door. Sometimes the path had been cleared, even though she did not do it. Sometimes there was light in the windows of the other houses. She told herself it was her imagination. She was alone. The footprints were hers, even if she did not remember making them. The snow had just fallen that way.
She was alone.
No neighbors. No contact with the outside world. Every few weeks she drove to the nearest village for food and medicine.
On snowstorm days like today, she did small repairs around the house. The house was built well, but it always needed attention. Something always needed fixing.
Sometimes she read books. But she never opened one of them, “The Little Prince.” Inside it was a photo of Ryland.
Eva sighed and took the book in her hands. She wished for him to be safe, even though she was not religious. She knew he would manage. She knew who he was and…
The lights in the house went out.
Eva froze and looked around. Outside, the snow turned everything into a white wall.
“Shit.”
She dressed almost blindly, missing the sleeves the first time, and went outside. Snow hit her face immediately. The flashlight showed only a small circle in front of her, the rest was white movement and dark shapes of trees.
The walk to the shed felt longer than it should. The door creaked open and a strong smell of diesel and cold metal hit her. Inside, there was silence instead of the usual engine sound. She checked everything she knew. Carl had taught her: fuse, fuel, battery. But the generator did not respond.
Eva let out a sharp breath and kicked it, more out of frustration than anger. She would have to take it apart completely. But outside, the storm was strong enough that leaving was not even possible. She would not reach the tools she needed.
Then someone knocked on the door.
Eva froze.
The door started to open slowly. She raised the flashlight and pointed it forward.
A man stood there. Tall, covered in snow. His dark clothes were wet and heavy, and a scarf covered half his face. He raised his hands, palms open.
“Your generator is broken,” he said.
Eva did not answer at first. She did not even fully process what he said.
“I am your neighbor,” he added, nodding toward the forest, where the other houses stood in the dark.
Then the footprints she had seen for weeks, always small and “not hers,” suddenly made sense. Someone really lived here.
She still said nothing.
He did not wait for a reply.
“I will fix it. They say the frost will be strong tomorrow.”
He walked past her and knelt by the generator. Metal clicked under his hands. Eva stayed beside him, holding the flashlight. The light shook slightly in her fingers. He worked in silence. He took it apart, checked it, removed parts with steady movements, like he was doing this in his own home.
She watched his hands, bare, covered in old scars and calluses.
After some time, the generator coughed, then again, and finally started running. A low sound filled the shed.
The house light turned on through the window.
The man stood up. Only then did he remove his scarf. Eva saw his face. The air in the room felt different.
Ryland’s face.
He looked exactly like Ryland.
For a second, it felt like the world shifted.
He looked at her calmly. Too calmly for a man with that face.
He looked like Grace, but his expression was harder, colder. Not the warm and bright Ryland she remembered, but something winter-like and distant.
“Courtland Gentry,” she said quietly.
He nodded.
“You know who I am,” Eva said.
Another nod.
He turned toward the door. Outside, the storm was still strong. The wind pushed into the shed, making the flashlight shake against the walls.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
He did not answer immediately.
“I was sent to watch over you,” he said.
A pause.
“The world wanted you gone. And you made a good place for that yourself.”
He stepped into the snow and disappeared into the storm.