The hum of the neons beginning to flicker to life adorned every street with their luminescence, blending with the urban murmur on that evening of significant events. The artificial light blinked intermittently as the city shed its skin under the twilight.
Dan walked beside the women, listening in silence to their exchange of words. His steps were spontaneous, synchronized with the rhythm of the avenue, but his attention was fixed on Janab's gestures. Even if Ana was skilled at conversation, he was impressed by how easy it was for her to ask questions without creating discomfort, navigating the silences with a dexterity he did not possess.
—We have moved far from the temple —Janab observed, looking back.
The distance between them and the religious structure was already considerable; the towers were lost among the modern buildings. Dan rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension accumulated in his nerves.
—Ana, if I had spent one more minute inside that place, I was going to make you pay for it —Dan rubbed his hair, replying with annoyance.
—You say that, but you come every Sunday to pick me up.
—I don't go to that place for pleasure; it's only because you are there.
A soft smile formed on Ana's lips. When Janab looked at her, she focused back on the conversation. The evening wind lightly moved Ana's hair, but her composure remained unaltered.
—Where will you go after Zheir?
The purple of the horizon distracted Janab for a moment, but she answered without thinking. The color of the sky was darkening rapidly, as if the night wished to move ahead of schedule.
—Caprissia.
A notable haze clouded Dan's expression. He stopped dead in his tracks, and the plane in which he saw himself changed in a second. It was as if darkness emerged from that woman's voice. The air around them changed again—static, threatening.
The entire world began to shake around him once more; a chill ran across his skin like the hand of a demon.
—Why do you want to go to a place like that? Do not go there!
With his demand, the lamps flickered. In his eyes, a growing and visible fear flashed. Dan did not want to appear irrational, but the perceptible face of that woman and her restless eyes represented the last barrier between his terrible delirium and what was real. His hands trembled slightly, seeking a support that did not exist.
—It would be better if you didn't go. That place is cursed. A lugubrious city where pagan festivals hold great power, where demons reign —he doubted himself and the words he had just uttered.
—Is Caprissia such a frightful place?
—It is.
At his quick response, Janab did not attempt to draw conclusions about something she did not understand. Finding logic in arguments about demons was difficult for her. The certainty in his voice clashed with her skepticism, creating a rift in her understanding of reality.
—Dan's grandmother lived in that place —Ana's honeyed voice offered a narrow breather in the complex atmosphere created between them.
Dan's family, originally from Caprissia, had exiled themselves in Zheir many years ago. They fled from a pagan place where cults and superstition were common, intending to forget the stories of demons that terrified both descendants and ancestors of the Debellis. But the curse pursued them: they saw themselves walking without will or control over their body and soul, toward an uncertain end. The inherited nightmares knew no geographic borders.
With Dan's birth, more bone-chilling revelations devoured the dreams of those who shared his blood. Dan's grandmother claimed to have escaped the demon while she carried Dan's mother in her womb; however, a sentence was given to her. Out of fear of losing her future lineage, she fled Caprissia, ordering her daughter never to return. Until the end of her days, she insisted that Dan had been marked by a demon. The mark was invisible, but it weighed more than any physical chain.
—That is why —Ana continued, with a compassionate look—, Caprissia is not just a city to him. It is the origin of everything he has suffered.
Dan clenched his fists, feeling the weight of a curse he did not choose, but which he carried in his blood like a scar that never closed. His eyes narrowed, while the neon light reflected the anguish on his face.
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