This wasn't how I had imagined the day ending. By the time we arrived, night had already fallen over Xertonia. Stas and I walked Dasha to her floor and then decided to check on Violetta—but the door was opened by Diana.
Only over her shoulder did I catch a glimpse of Max. He was kneeling beside the bed, his palms spread on either side of Viola's head. Bright blue threads stretched from his fingers, neon light disappearing beneath Viola's golden hair as it brushed her skin.
Diana pressed a finger to her lips, signaling for silence, and held the door as she quietly closed it.
"How is she?" Stas whispered, worry flickering across his face.
"It's hard to say. She's woken up twice already, but Max managed to put her back to sleep before she started screaming. It doesn't seem like she's feeling any better yet, but Max is doing everything he can."
"Maybe it's time to call her father?"
"I tried," Diana said softly. "He's not answering."
Stas pressed his lips together in irritation and ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back.
"What does Max himself say?" I asked Diana, giving Stas a chance to breathe. If he opened his mouth again right now, nothing but swearing would come out.
"Some kind of incoherent nonsense. He keeps repeating the same thing, like he's stuck on a loop—saying that darkness has touched her. I don't understand a damn thing. What darkness? What is he even talking about?"
"Did you try asking him directly?"
"Asya," she lowered her head slightly, her eyes widening. "Of course I tried. But Max seems to be in some kind of trance. He repeats that phrase over and over, then tries spell after spell, one after another, and none of it works. It's all complete madness."
And to you, does it make any sense?
A dramatic swirl of mist burst into the corridor, and Kaandor took shape near the doorway. With casual ease, he leaned against the nearest wall, studying me through half-lidded eyes beneath thick black lashes.
"Is it supposed to?" I asked aloud, and Diana frowned.
Right. Only Max and I could see the dark companion.
"Not you," I added, gesturing toward the spot where the black silhouette stood. "Kaandor."
"You forget so easily. Just like your friend."
"Listen, I'm exhausted," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose, trying to scrape together at least a shred of strength after a full day without proper food or sleep. "Can I get a hint, at least for today? Or a 'phone a friend'? Maybe eliminate two wrong answers out of four?"
His eyes flared. Apparently, the spirit wasn't capable of appreciating my sarcastic reference to a quiz show where people try to win a million by answering questions from every imaginable—and unimaginable—field of knowledge.
"I'll give you a hint. Not because you're asking, but because you don't have time."
"No time for what?"
"To save her." His gaze snapped toward the door with uncanny precision, as though he could see straight through the wood to the grim scene beyond—a brother desperately trying to save his twin sister. Perhaps Max and Kaandor were the only ones who truly understood what was happening, and that was why Max refused to give up, staying by Viola's side without rest, searching for a way to end her pain.
"Then talk."
"Remember where we met, and what you called me at first."
I looked at him. So much time had passed. So many things had happened. The memory that burned most sharply was the confrontation in the Smirnovs' house, when Diana had brought me to her father, hoping to stop the transformation. That day was always hard to revisit, because it was the moment my life truly turned upside down—when the dark companion took the helm of a mind clouded by betrayal and pain. That was the day I learned why I was the way I was. I touched my roots. I met the woman who was, in truth, my mother. Even now, I was still trying to process that.
"Cold, Asya. Very cold."
"So we're playing hot and cold now?"
Kaandor nodded.
"I can't stand it when those two start chatting with each other and only Asya gets to hear anything," Stas said to Diana with clear frustration. I wanted to respond, but Kaandor cut me off at once.
"Focus."
I closed my eyes and tried to recall the details of that day. Viola and Diana were arguing about what I should wear to dinner.
"Cold."
Then I saw myself sitting in a car with Kostya and Maria, listening as they explained how they had sealed the inherited spirit inside me. The moment my grandmother died, the witch's triad that upheld the seal had cracked, and Nick's vampire blood had finished shattering it.
"Warmer."
Thinking of Nick pulled me back into that bleak nothingness. I remembered the weightlessness, the strange sensation of being watched. There was no time there—no sound, no scent. There was only it…
"Darkness!" I cried out, clapping a hand over my mouth to stifle the scream that followed.
"Hot. Good girl."
"Did you do this?" Horror flooded me as the thought took shape—that Viola's suffering might be directly tied to my spirit.
Kaandor shook his head and began to whisper in an irritated tone, as if I were missing something painfully obvious.
"You called me Darkness, but Darkness is not what I am. Darkness is a place. My refuge. My prison."
I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his words—and failed completely. They sounded just as incoherent as what Max had been saying.
"But how can a place deliberately harm someone? It's a place. It's not alive."
"Do you consider me alive?"
"Well, yes. You think. You feel. You're sarcastic."
"Then why can't it be alive as well?"
"I don't understand anything."
"Maybe we can help," Stas said cautiously.
I had nothing to lose, so I retold my entire exchange with Kaandor, including both sides of the conversation. Instead of one confused face, there were now three of them in the corridor.
"I don't get it," Stas muttered.
"Neither do I," Diana agreed, and the disappointment was plain on both their faces.
"You're all still such children," Kaandor said. He pushed off the wall and walked straight through the door as if it weren't there at all. He vanished into the room, leaving me in utter confusion.
A perfect ending to the conversation. Just wonderful. So much useful information. Thank you, Kaandor. Truly. We all feel so much better now.
Stas touched my hand, and that simple gesture pulled me back into reality.
"You're going to hurt yourself," he said gently, and I followed his gaze. Only then did I realize I'd clenched my fist. My short nails had dug into my palm, leaving thin, crescent-shaped marks behind.
"Kaandor went into the room."
"Why?"
"Who knows," I exhaled wearily, wishing this day would finally come to an end.
Diana swiped the key card and opened the door. Inside, everything looked as though no disaster had unfolded ten minutes earlier.
The lights were on. Viola sat propped against the headboard, wrapped in a blanket. From beneath it peeked the sweater she had been wearing just hours ago, when she sat with us at the match. She was conscious, but clearly weak. Max sat on the edge of the bed beside his sister, staring pensively at Kaandor.
"Come in. Sit down," the dark companion gestured invitingly, and I straightened.
"Can't you just explain everything already?" I snapped.
"You don't listen," he replied, tilting his head toward Max. "He will."
I rolled my eyes. Why was it always so difficult with him? A faint sting of jealousy flared—Kaandor communicated far more easily with Max than with the person he was bound to. It added yet another bitter note to an already miserable day.
"Kaandor is about to explain something important," Max said. "You'd better sit down. This will take a while."
I shot Max a disapproving look. After all, whose spirit was Kaandor—his or mine? Realizing I'd missed my chance to object, I sat down on the edge of the bed, closer to Kaandor, and braced myself to listen.
"Is this really necessary?" Stas asked dryly. When Max nodded, Stas stretched out on his stomach and propped his head on his hands. I wondered how long it had been since he'd slept. The past few days had drained us both completely. I prayed that whatever Kaandor was about to say wouldn't be hopeless. If it was merely bearable, that would already be enough. Yet a heavy premonition had lodged itself beneath my ribs, curling around my heart, warning me that we were all in very deep trouble.