Death for death

Time is the prison of the soul. To die means to be free.

The third day has come. The clouds gave way to the sun, bright crimson rays, ruthlessly breaking into my dream. The clock was about nine. Oribi and Anzeli scurried around me in agitation, and I knew from their marble faces that Bekka had never been found.

- I had a vision... - the campir whispered, - She is somewhere high... it is cold there, the wind blows and some distant light shines... - some strange and inexplicable feeling haunted him. He hoped that these were only nightmares, but deep down he was very afraid for their realization. Such thoughts confused consciousness, convincing in their illusory truthfulness.

“Someone is going to die today! - non-stop spinning in Sarro's thoughts, - And I know who, I am! Having doomed everyone to this vain search, I will not be able to avoid fate ... "

There was a leaflet on the table. The one that a stranger gave us on the first day of the search. Oribi glanced at the piece of pap
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