“Come, Max. We have to go. We can’t let her see us. We don’t belong here.” Although I agree, I still don’t move. I need a few moments more to recover from the realization that my own grandmother is standing right next to me, looking like a sixteen-year-old girl. The same sixteen-year-old girl who only moments ago fled from the silo. I can’t take my eyes off her. So young, so pretty. Has this beautiful girl been there all along? Hidden under a sprawling jungle of wrinkles and loose skin? Is that what it means to get old? That you’re slowly overgrown with dead cells and grief? Will that happen to me too?
The fascination is clearly mutual because Gran looks as captivated by me as I am by her. But then, a radiant smile breaks through, shattering the spell.
“Haha, it’s really me, Max. Or maybe more accurate, a projection of my mind or something. My real body must be lying somewhere unconscious.” Her eyes break contact with mine and scan our surroundings. “Never thought I’d see this again. What a mess. Those bombardments were pure horror—much worse than anything you see in movies. And my mother, well... you know... she just couldn’t cope.” Though her voice is that of a fourteen-year-old girl, her words and memories belong to the grown woman I know so well—my everyday, kitchen-sink Gran.
“And what are the chances, Tinderstick, you ending up here—at this time, in this place—the watershed moment of my life? The moment I destroyed everything.” Her voice falters—just slightly, but undeniably. “You know, I’d give my arm just to hear my mother laugh one more time. She had the best laugh, you know.” “But it’s already too late for that now. Four years of war had taken their toll. This night only pushed her over the edge. She was inconsolable. First, she lost her husband, and then her son. She never recovered.”
Her eyes briefly flicker back to the silo. “I was so ashamed, Max. I wanted to help, but instead, I made everything incalculably worse. And even though I’ve learned to live with it, the pain never goes away. Not a single day.”
The sirens still howl. In the distance, the roar of approaching cars and motorcycles grows louder. It won’t take long before the building is surrounded. Now I’m the one in a hurry.
“We have to go, Gran. We must find the place where I entered this world.” Without saying another word, I start walking. Gran follows without a word of protest, but just as we’re about to turn the corner, she glances back one final time. Suddenly, she freezes. Her eyes widen in complete bewilderment, and as I follow her gaze, I immediately understand why. The back door of the Silo has opened again. Someone is crawling out—a boy, gravely wounded and bleeding, but alive. For a moment, I worry Gran has stopped breathing all together, but then she whispers, “He’s still alive?!” She sinks to her knees, her hands pressed to her mouth. “How is this possible?”
Then the first jeeps come flying around the corner at the far end of the street. Three blinding beams trap the boy in a cage of light. He doesn’t have the strength to run or resist.
“Superman... after all...” Gran mumbles. “How didn’t I know? Where has he been all these years? How did he survive?” Soldiers are spreading out, searching the perimeter.
“Gran, we have to go... now!” With difficulty, she snaps out of her thoughts, swallows, and then, to my great relief, I see the sixteen-year-old girl transform back into the grandmother she truly is.
“Yes, you’re right, Max. We have to go.” She manages to take one step, then another and another. Slowly, we pick up speed, and with every step, the girl walking next to me starts to sound more and more like the Gran I know—resolute and decisive. We’re going to need it. We are ear-deep in shit.
“Gran, I don’t know exactly where I came here.” She only smiles. “Come with me, Tinderstick. I lived here my whole youth.” She takes my hand and leads me purposefully from bomb crater to fallen tree, from desolate alley to burned-out army truck, past countless other destroyed, uprooted, exploded things that litter our route, not hesitating once. And before I know it, we’re at the spot where I first tumbled into this mess.
“But how did you know?” I mumble.
“Easy, Max, it’s the same spot where I arrived. My spirit must have guided me to the person I love most, as directly as possible, wherever and whenever she was. It’s amazing, though not as amazing as the fact that you’ve arrived here, at this crossroads of my life... Impossible… unless...” Deep wrinkles crease her brow. “...unless you are indeed able to manipulate this shadow reality and the prophecy is true after all.” Only a few hours ago, I would have agreed with her. But after tonight, I know better.
“No, Gran, that prediction wasn’t about me. It was about...”
“Me!”
The voice coming from behind is frighteningly close. We spin around and there he is, standing tall and straight on a small mound of dirt, looking down at two small sixteen-year-old girls.
"Don’t you think it’s ironic, Kryn, that of all people, your granddaughter is chosen by Egalpezo to restore the equilibrium? That, of all people, she’s supposed to counterbalance me?" Although he speaks mockingly, his expression makes it crystal clear that he will never underestimate me ever again.
Suddenly, I notice Angel hiding almost entirely behind him. I’m stunned—not just because her father has dragged her into this mess, but also because of her appearance. She no longer looks like the bright, happy girl I met months ago. Dark, swollen bags shadow her eyes, her pale face has taken on a grayish hue, and her once immaculate clothes are torn and filthy. I can’t imagine where they spent the night, but it must have been far from comfortable.
Gran, next to me, hisses sharply. "You! But how? Nobody has ever been able to lie to me without me knowing. How did you evade my talent? I was surprised when you moved into the house next door, but I've never caught you in a real lie. How did you manage that?"
"Maybe I didn’t lie, Kryn—not really. Everything I told you was true; it just wasn’t the whole truth, but I have to admit, I trained long and hard to shield the rest of my thoughts from you. I even had to use a really complicated spell from one of my mother’s oldest surviving books. Your talent is incredibly powerful, and if you hadn’t spent your life trying to repress it, I wouldn’t have stood a chance. And yet... here we are."
Gran doesn’t look impressed or afraid. She only looks angry. I suddenly recognize in her the pride I also saw in my mother. Like her, she will not accept defeat. Period.
“And Angel?” She points to the ruffled, stained little bird hiding behind him. “Why do you draw her into this? Look at her, the poor girl is a mess.” Mastro glances briefly at his daughter, but there’s no warmth in his eyes.
“Angel knows where her allegiance lies, don’t you, dear? She will follow me everywhere, just as I followed my mother. But that’s not the only reason she’s here. She has a job to do. You must realize that Angel has a very specific skill set—a skill set that will end this charade, right here and right now.”
Now I can’t control myself anymore. “Are you going to use your daughter? Can’t you handle this yourself, coward?”
“Aaah, Maxime…”
“Max! My name is Max!”
“Whatever you want, Max. I must admit, I underestimated you. After tonight, however, I won’t make that mistake again. I have to erase you. Both of you. Completely. You understand, right? Full-body time travel and dimensional transformation, albeit clumsy, unconsciously and uncontrolled? It’s nothing less than astonishing. There’s no record in the long history of the Guild of anyone else being able to do this. But although it’s immensely fascinating, and my thirst for knowledge drives me to investigate, one thing has become crystal clear: you are a threat to my plans. If you continue to develop your talents, you might even possess the power to alter history itself. I can’t allow that. You could undo everything I’ve built, and I’ve worked too long and too hard to let it all be taken away from me by a teenager. The damage you could cause with your flawed personality is unfathomable. You’re a wrecking ball in a china shop. You have to be stopped, deleted. And Angel will help me do that. The light of truth, my rabbit out of the hat.”
Angel? My young, kind, crazy, happy next-door neighbor? A secret weapon? And only then, I realize that Angel doesn’t look so utterly ravaged because of the time travel, the destruction of war, or a bad night’s sleep, but because she knows what her father wants her to do.
Gran’s voice in my head carries, for the first time, a hint of panic. I can’t read her mind, Max, but there’s an enormous amount of energy there—as if the entire nuclear arsenal of the world is concentrated in that tiny body. This will not end well. We have to do something.
Not hesitating another second, she jumps into action, taking a step forward, and I follow her lead. Two small girls trying to stop a grown man. But before we have taken another step, Mastro has raised his right hand. Angle looks up to him with a desperate expression, as if begging him not to ask whatever he’s about to ask her to do. It doesn’t have any effect. Mastro stares at her with cold, merciless eyes.
“You know I can’t let them go, Angle. You have to do this; there’s no other option. And please... for once... don’t disappoint me.” His hand comes down, and then there’s only pain. Light and pain.