Several disappearances and unexplained events have been registered shorty after the commercialization of an ancient statue linked to some legends from a mysterious place called "Reich der Finsternis" in eastern Germany, there is no know route leadin...
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The shelter: The order of Amelie
The night had passed in the blink of an eye, leaving Liz unsure of the operation's outcome at the concentration camp. She had spent hours in bed, trying in vain to relax, but the thought of the souls lost during the mission filled her with sorrow and helplessness. A weight of impurity—or perhaps guilt—pressed down on her mind, blurring the line between reality and fantasy.
The voices that had whispered to her in the forest still echoed in her ears. Among them, Mr. Holzmann's ominous words reverberated: "The moment of truth is near. Reunification will come soon."
At last, she opened her eyes, ending what had been anything but a restful sleep. She vaguely recalled Steffi's voice guiding her to an unfamiliar bed before the dark abyss of her nightmares dragged her under again. Those dreams now felt less like an escape and more like a prison of the mind.
She sat up slowly, her head still spinning, and took in her surroundings. The room was simple yet strangely elegant, with white walls and medieval-style oak furniture—a wardrobe, bedside tables, chairs, and a door that seemed plucked from another era. A vase of flowers nearby offered a comforting fragrance, and the morning sunlight filtered through the window, accompanied by a soft breeze that brought her an unexpected sense of calm.
With effort, she got to her feet and approached the mirror hanging over one of the nightstands, yearning to see her own reflection. She was dressed in a gray tank top; her leather jacket hung neatly on an antique coat rack. Examining herself, she gently touched a bruise near her right eye, assessing the damage. Then, in the glass, she noticed something that froze her in place: Bernard's face, smiling at her in the same clothes he'd worn the last time she had seen him alive.
She whirled around, her breath catching.
"Bernard!" she exclaimed, astonished and overjoyed. "How... what are you doing here?" Her voice cracked with emotion, the ache in her ribs a faint echo of recent events.
For a moment, she simply stared, recovering from both the pain and the overwhelming sight of her companion. His presence alone seemed to soothe her restless soul.
"Did you really think they'd finish me off?" he teased, a calm smile spreading across his face. "Apparently, the Holzmanns aren't the only ones who know how to pull off a good deception."
Liz blinked, stepping back in disbelief. The image of his broken body lying in the dirt was seared into her memory—it had been too real to dismiss. Even the Holzmanns' cults taught that the dead didn't return.
"So... does this mean everything..." she murmured, her voice trailing off as she glanced back at the mirror. "Wasn't real?" she whispered, the words barely audible. With a sigh of relief, she added, "It was all an illusion. A bad dream!"
Her expression softened as a wave of serenity washed over her. Bernard's image lingered in the mirror, but something about it unsettled her. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to center herself, and focused on the elegant vase nearby. Then, his voice came again, quiet and enigmatic.
