A sturdy branch helps me walk along the path, which soon turns into a narrow road. My jeans are almost dry, along with the mud that is turning into cracked crust, falling apart. I can see houses ahead. After about ten abandoned buildings I find only a single elderly man, who is basking in the sun on a rocking chair. I ask him whether I can use his phone, but he just shakes his head and closes his wrinkled eyes shut.

As I get closer to the town, the heat gets increasingly more unbearable. Beads of sweat trickle down all over my body, especially where I hold the talisman given to me by Colin, and waves of heat fill my head with sleepy folly. At times I feel like I see myself from the side, a hunched figure in a grey shirt, looking like an ant which slowly makes its way to a target.

My thoughts get mixed up.

An ant runs along the path.

A bridge. I am no longer walking on soil, but instead on wood. I am in the town. Children play in a garden. A woman in a long skirt hangs her laundry. I think I needed to ask something, but what? I can't remember.

But I am doing everything right. That's the most important thing.

I am already at the square. Pleasant place, indeed... full of power. My vision blurs, the edges of objects double and triple, but then gain depth like in a stereo picture. A grey ant inside me is curious, but I don't have time for him, I need to finish what I came here to do.

On the steps of a house with columns sits a homeless bum in a torn black jacket and hungrily eats instant noodles from a plastic container. His hair is made into a weird bun, and his thick beard is full of crumbs. This is how the grey ant sees him.

He looks different in my mind.

He is a guard.

The homeless guy shows his crooked yellow teeth in a smile.

"Hey, beautiful. C'mere, I will share my dinner with you! What are ye starin' at? Do I have something on my face?"

Is he talking to me? Ah, yes... Before him is just a tired girl, who needs a scare from this place. I mean Place. Just like that. With a giant capital letter.

The bum has very beautiful green eyes, which are so pleasant to drown in. And so interesting!

Green silk veils float in the night sky. It is as if a fiery net is thrown over a black, crusted ground. Streams of lava flow in the cracks until the horizon, where purple clouds loom over a volcano. I feel unnaturally hot.

Sparks dance before me, turned into an ornament by the wind, making complex structures from chaos, which I try to understand. It is not that difficult; they are quite easy to decipher:

Surprise. Fear. Determination.

The hobo blocks my vision, a long noodle hanging from his gaping mouth, twisting into his copper beard.

The aurora spirals, an emerald flame flickering on the edge of a heavenly pike, like a scorpion's stinger before attack. Volcano erupts with blazing bombs, streams of lava bulge and flow towards my legs.

What are the chances of an ant, who tries to gain freedom from his Gods?

I nonchalantly watch how a puddle of asphalt starts flowing beneath my legs. My grey ant is annoyed by the boring special effects of the stone jungle, but I no longer care. The asphalt calmly stirs the lava beneath it, so I am happy that it is there.

What are the chances of the God, who tries to oppose the ant?

The sparks wail, "Impossible!" The wind assures, "This can't happen!"

It can. It is very possible.

I hastily swing my hand and the poisonous glow of the aurora powerlessly pours down with jade rain, turning into a million sparks when hitting the ground.

The bum hits a column with his back and head, making him fall down, leaving a red smudge on the column.

The grey ant is upset and even tries complaining. It is very amusing. I keep the persistent insect in the back of my mind. Where is the entrance?

Is this it? A glowing emptiness that smells of blood and decay. Eww, how unaesthetic! Well, what can I do... one time does not count as necrophilia. Oh! Well, what do you know, Willy himself is meeting me at the front gate, covered in a black cloak with fur collar and golden symbols. One crow sits on his shoulder, the other by his leather boot. Dramatic, but only the silk cylinder hat spoils the impression.

"You were not called here."

"Nobody stopped me from coming here."

"Let her pass, bro!" Behind his left shoulder I hear the familiar voice of the handsome stranger from the bakery. "She has the right. She just wants to get back what is rightfully hers."

There are hints of Colin's intonation in his sensitive baritone. All is correct - the performance ends, masks are taken off, and makeup no longer covers the faces of tired actors.

"Nobody took anything from her." Willy furrows his brows.

"Not yet, but it is better to take some precautions in order to not cry about the losses later, right, Vidur?"

"You haven't changed at all, Lopt."

"I prefer stability, brother. Changing to fit's somebody likeness is the same as killing a part of yourself. And I treasure every part of myself. "

I become bored and take a step toward the portal, behind which my Target awaits me.

The old man does not bulge from his place. Well, I know perfectly well that he is not an obstacle, since I can just walk through him if I want.

He has a charming blue eye and it feels so good to drown in it, even better than the guard's.

An endless snow plain, with drifting snow on top of it. An ocean glimmers in the distance, with a narrow bay covered in ice. The temperature is freezing.

Snowflakes float around me, forming a spiral.

Calm. Grace. Curiosity.

Peculiar snowflakes, I like them. Icy spears protrude from the snow-covered ground around me, turning into an azure cage. And you want to stop me with this, old man? It's hilarious.

Snowflakes dance happily above my head.

QUESTION. THREE. ANSWER. THREE. PASSAGE.

I understand. These are conditions. Conditions that need to be followed. This is correct.

"GOAL?"

"Come into Valhalla."

"REASON?"

The drifting snow moves around my feet, playing with a white tail. I don't have a reason, meaning I don't have an answer. The grey ant has the answer, who almost disappeared back into the depths of my mind.

The wind howls stronger, I cannot stand here for long. Standing around means weakness, weakness is the loss of what I want. Where are you, ant? Get up and serve me one last time.

I learn how to breathe again, as it seems I forgot. I also have an urge to cry, because something unfixable is happening, and the only thing I can do is wiggle under the crystal gaze of Willy, like a butterfly on the edge of a blade.

"Why do you want to come into Valhalla, girl?"

The old man's voice is soft and full of sympathy. This acts as a trigger, and I start choking, grabbing my chest, trying to stop my heart's pain. But I cannot stay silent, as I will lose myself otherwise. I hear my whimpers as if from a distance.

"So you would not take away my friends; please, don't do it!"

Willy rubs the temple of his nose, then takes off his helmet and scratches his head with annoyance. He then sighs heavily:

"A lot of doors are closed for good. If you do enter Valhalla, then the balance tips, and Hel knows what will happen then. Consequences are often unpredictable. In any case, your friends will not be able to fulfil the agreement. The failure to do that is punished with a curse, which is worse than death, since it continues even after it. And now, for my third question: Do you wish this fate upon yourself? If so, then you may enter."

"No, no... I don't want anything bad! Just let them come back." Something is trying to escape my body, from the depths of my consciousness, trying to control me. It is not pleased, I am not doing anything right, but I don't want to... No!

"And what if it is impossible to return them?"

"Then I will go in there, and I don't care what happens afterwards!"

Somehow I still stand on my legs. The old man's gaze does not turn away from me, not letting me pity myself, but I don't need pity. Pity is weakness, weakness is... a mumbling darkness inside me melts with dirty snow under a blue sky, under a sharp blue gaze.

A silent clap, sounding like a giant soap bubble, popped, letting in cold air into the unsteady reality. Just normal, cold air, smelling of autumn. I am back at the empty square, in front of a ruined building with broken windows, with Willy standing a few steps above me. There is nobody here but us two.

The old man is polishing his hat with a cloth. He puts it back on his head, and then finally cares enough to drive his attention towards me. I wait for him to come down.

"And now give me back that thing." His finger digs into my shirt's collar. "What is up with people these days, ready to wear anything, not caring about what it can cause? Where is the human race going..."

Willy takes the amulet from me, and opens it, spilling the contents onto his palm.

"He does not change at all." The old man murmurs under his nose "It is so obvious, same tricks all over again. A snake's fang, a wolf's tooth, a dead man's bone. Doesn't he even think up anything new? Hey, tiny!" He looks at me. "Enough shaking, don't you need to return home?"

"I do." I nod. I then nod again, just to make sure.

"So, you came here with anger, but it was not yours so I will not punish you. I treasure bravery and respect persistence, so you will receive a reward. I wanted to erase your memory, but it is your choice."

"Don't erase my memory!"I protest. "It is as important to me as..."

"As memory?" The old man grins. "Fine, if that is what you want. If I were you I would have taken up the offer, who knows what will happen with it. Are you sure? Well, then it is goodbye."

Willy squeezes his palm shut, as if the amulet is a walnut that needs to be smashed. His face contorts, as if from pain. Smoke comes out from his palm, filling the nearby space with corrosive darkness. It blinds me, and I unsurely take a step forward, swinging my hands in the darkness until I can feel a cold tube, which feels metallic. The darkness quickly fades and I see a red and white Helkama written on a bicycle. There is a raincoat on the seat.

I absolutely have to lose consciousness. My mind is barely working, not even enough power to process information, only some obvious facts.

I am in the back of the hotel.

It is ten in the morning, the time when Colin and I took off.

I am wearing his shirt. My palms are scratched up, and my shoes are torn.

Both bicycles are standing here. Even though they have to be somewhere in the forest.

My brain is right, it is better to not process anything. Everything seems wrong.

Every muscle in my exhausted body feels as if it is made out of metal and pain, and my first attempt at standing up results in extreme dizziness, making me grab my knees to stay upright.

A hear a familiar creak. I expect to see Colin's excited face, but instead I am greeted by the multifunctional owner's helper. She is carrying two black rubbish bags, but places them down once she notices me.

"Good morning." She smiles at me, her small eyes examining my whole body, stopping at every stain, every scratch, every bruise with curiosity. I feel like a Christmas tree, on which the old woman hangs bright decorations, such as alcoholic, drug addict and whore.

"Good morning." I respond, and ask a question that I already know the answer to. "Where is Colin?"

"I don't think there is anybody named Colin here. Unless he's a technician..."

"He's not." I interrupt her. "You have a boy working at the reception in the mornings, have you seen him?"

"What boy?" She has honest confusion in her voice and I don't have a choice but to believe her. "We don't have any boys working here. Maybe somebody walked here? Don't worry, our town is peaceful, I just walked away for a second. As you can see, nobody is here during the mornings."

"For a second?" I ask with sarcasm, looking at her puffy face."Then who was it that poured me coffee?"

"What are you talking about! Maybe somebody did it as a prank. Next time, just ring the bell and I will come down to see who is using the coffee machine!"

The woman grabs the bags, and carries them toward the bins.

Okay, we figured that out. Has a boy named Colin really existed?

Turns out to be some kind of Schrodinger boy; he either does not exist, or is now driving in front of me on the road. Stop! Don't think. Later... Not now... Later.

The room key, the wooden stairs, the second floor. I barely move my legs, more proof that what happened was not a hallucination.

Stop!

There it is, dear reality: the wide bed, the door to the toilet and shower. Just normal things. I take out clean laundry and take off my dirty clothes. A bang, and a ding.

Golden coins fall out of my jeans, glittering in the morning sun.

Stop!!