"𝒾'𝓁𝓁 𝒻ℴ𝓁𝓁ℴ𝓌 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒾𝓃𝓉ℴ 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀"

A single window is open in the house. This particular night in October is meant to be the coldest of the year. Ophelia Stone lies in her bed soaked in sweat as she tosses and turns in her sheets. Her curtains dance around like practised ballerinas from the wind, eventually blowing outside the open window. It's freezing, yet the sleeping girl looks like she's inside a sauna. Between her heavy breathing, a quiet whimper leaves her parted lips as her claws dig into the palms of her hands. Liquid pools against the linen bedsheets, staining them a dark crimson.

Isaac Lahey's eyes snap open at the scent of blood. He lurches up in the bed and quickly scrambles out of the guest room in his friend's house, darting down the corridor and into her room. His face falls at her figure illuminated by the moonlight streaming into the room and rushes over to her. The boy crouches down and takes one of her hands, prying her claws out of her delicate skin. "Fi," he calls out worriedly, trying to wake her up out of the horrendous nightmare she's in. "Ophelia!"

He barely comprehends her eyes opening, then he's slammed up against the wall. The plaster cracks against the impact of his body and Isaac flinches as a picture frame falls to the ground beside him. The girl's eyes blaze a dangerous red as her claws press into his neck, her lips curling back as she snarls. Veins trail down her cheeks as her eyes lock onto the carotid artery in his neck. Isaac suddenly realises that she's not fully here. She's awake but she's not present. He had heard about how she attacked Scott at the animal clinic not so long ago; maybe this is something similar? Maybe she's hallucinating?

"That's not a very nice way to treat your elders."

Ophelia freezes. Isaac continues to try and talk to her, to tell her that she's safe and it's only him, but she hears something completely different. She hears the voice that haunts her within her nightmares.

"We can't keep doing this forever, Ophelia. It's going to end one way or another."

With fear coursing through her veins, she stumbles away from Isaac clutching her head. "Fi, it's me," he says in concern. "Hey, you're okay, just breathe, yeah?"

Her hands trail down to her stomach and when she lifts her palms into the moonlight, she sees them painted red. Looking down, Ophelia's heartrate increases rapidly at the sight of the wooden stake sticking out of her stomach. A tear falls down her cheek. "You're just going to keep at this until I die?" she whispers.

"Unless you want to give me another option, hm?"

Isaac watches his friend stare into the empty space beside him. She's talking to someone, but it's not him. "Ophelia," he says calmly. She doesn't look at him, however, he watches her tense. "You're here with me, Isaac, at home, okay? No one else is here, it's just us. You're safe," he repeats, a little more firmly this time. The boy takes small steps toward her as another tear rolls down.

Ophelia looks back down to her stomach. The stake is no longer there. Her eyes meet his. "I'm safe?" she croaks.

A fracture runs through Isaac's heart at the sheer vulnerability and fear etched upon her face. He nods. "Yeah, Fi, you're safe." The room is silent for a few moments. Then she breaks down in tears. Isaac's eyes widen in alarm as she drops down onto the end of her bed. "Woah, hey, what's wrong?"

She furiously wipes the tears streaking down her cheeks and sniffles as he sits beside her. "Gerard," she murmurs. When his brows draw together in confusion, she purses her lips together. "Yeah. I, uh, I guess... I don't know." She lets out a short laugh. "Maybe the whole kidnapping and torture thing was more of a big deal than I thought."

Isaac rubs her back gently as she leans into his side. "So you're seeing him?" he asks softly.

"Every now and then, it's been happening for a while. I hear his voice, sometimes I can see-" She thickly swallows. "Sometimes I can see what he hurt me with and stuff."

The boy takes one of her shaking hands. "Hey, it's okay to admit you were affected by what happened because you went through hell." Boyd had told him what he and Erica had seen Ophelia go through in the Argent's basement all that time ago. Isaac has an idea of what she's going through, he knows it first-hand. And he wishes he could take away all her pain. "It's okay if it takes you time to process it, or learn to deal with it."

She gives him a weak smile. She knows that he has some sort of experience with flashbacks. He understands just how traumatic reliving those memories itself can be. "Yeah, I guess," she murmurs. "Thank you."

Isaac squeezes her hand. "Of course. It's gonna be okay, Fi. You're gonna find him one day, and you're going to make him wish he never laid a hand on you."

At the mere thought of inflicting pain on Gerard Argent, Ophelia smiles. She can't wait for the moment she can rip his heart out of his rotting, joke of a body. She's going to give him a hint of the torture that he gave her. And boy is she going to love every single second of it. The two supernatural teenagers sit in silence for a few minutes, each thinking over what had just happened.

Then a phone rings.

She gives Isaac an apologetic smile as she hurries over to grab the phone, quickly accepting the call once she spots the contact name. "Hey, Stiles, what's up?" she greets her best friend, a little confused and concerned as to why he's calling her at eleven-thirty on a Thursday night. There's no response. "Stiles?" Isaac straightens up once he hears the heavy breathing echoing out of the speaker, and the pair share a look of worry. "Hey, bud, are you okay? What's wrong?"

After far too long, he finally speaks up in a terrified whisper. "Ophelia?"

Even through the phone, she can hear his racing heartbeat. "Yeah, hey, I'm here," she reassures. "What's going on?"

"I don't... I don't know where I am, I don't know how I got here..." Stiles sucks in a deep breath. "I think I was sleepwalking."

Ophelia nods. "Okay, what can you see? Can you see anything around you?" Isaac moves over to her as she places the call onto speakerphone, both intensely listening to every word spoken.

"Uh, it's dark, really dark. It's hard to see." He sounds like he's on the brink of hyperventilating; because it's too cold or because he's petrified, Ophelia doesn't know. "I think there's something wrong with my-"

The line goes dead.

Ophelia's eyes widen in a panic. "Holy shit," she mutters to herself. "Holy shit! Okay, what do we do?" she questions the boy beside her frantically.

"Call him back," Isaac responds quickly.

So she does. And again. And again. Each time she's directed to the voicemail she's becoming extremely familiar with. "This is Stiles and you missed me! Leave a message." As she redials his number, Ophelia paces the length of her bedroom as thoughts run through her mind of what could possibly be wrong with her best friend.

Then finally, he calls back. She doesn't think she's ever pressed a button so fast in her entire life. "Stiles?" she answers breathlessly.

"Fi, I don't think I can get out of here," he says. "I can't move."

"Okay, are you able to see anything now?"

"No, no, it's too dark. I can't see much, and something's wrong with my leg." Ophelia and Isaac lock eyes, the former's heart dropping in dread. "It's stuck on something, and it's... I think it's bleeding."

For his sake, she needs to remain calm. "Okay, Stiles, do you have any idea how bad it is? Do you know what's happened?" There's a long pause of silence. It's far too long for her liking. "Stiles, are you there? Can you still hear me? Stiles?"

"Ah, there's some kind of smell down here. Something smells terrible. It's brutal. My eyes are watering."

The girl slips on her Ugg boots and gestures for Isaac to go get his own. "Okay, I'm gonna go to your house and start there, okay?" Her voice fills with determination. "I'm gonna find you, Stiles." Running down the stairs, Ophelia grabs her car keys just as Isaac meets back up with her. "We're gonna find you."

Stiles takes a deep breath, but it sounds more like a sob. "Yeah-yeah, okay. Just don't call my dad, okay? He already worries about me too much. Fi, promise me you won't."

"I promise." Right now, Stiles doesn't need to know that that promise might break if it comes down to the worst. If for some reason Ophelia can't find him, she's calling whoever the hell she can think of.

The boy on the phone sniffles. "Oh, I gotta call you back," he says suddenly. "I have to turn the phone off."

Ophelia and Isaac slam the doors closed to her Porsche as she starts up the engine, her eyes wide in alarm. "What? No, Stiles, you gotta stay with me, okay? Don't hang up."

"I'm gonna call you right back."

"Stiles-"

But he's already gone. The cherry red vehicle's wheels screech as it backs out of the driveway, and Ophelia presses her foot to the floor as the car speeds down the street. She runs a hand through her hair and instructs her friend, "Isaac, call him back." He's already on it. Minutes pass and they still can't get hold of Stiles. Ophelia doesn't remember the last time she felt so terrified.

The phone rings.

Isaac's head flips over to her and she shrieks for him to answer. "Hey, Stiles," she says gently. "We're coming, okay?"

"Did you call him?" he asks fearfully. "Did you call my dad?"

"No, no I didn't." Ophelia jerks the wheel to the side and the car flings itself around a corner. The werewolf beside her hangs on for dear life. "Isaac's with me, and we're gonna get Scott, all right? We're coming to find you. Is it still too dark to see anything? Can you give us anything?"

"It's a basement," Stiles replies. "I think-I think I'm in some kind of basement."

Isaac's brows furrow. "You mean in a house?" he questions.

"No. It looks bigger. Like, industrial. I think there's a furnace, but it's cold. It's freezing down here." Ophelia closes her eyes briefly as she can hear the faint sound of his teeth chattering. "I gotta turn the... I gotta turn the phone off," Stiles breathes out, his voice wavering nervously. "Fi, it's going to die."

"Wait! Wait, what else is there? Can you see anything else?"

"The phone's dying. I can't talk." Stiles' voice drops to a hushed whisper. "I have to go. Please, just..."

Ophelia's fingers clench the leather steering wheel until her knuckles turn white. "Hey, why are you whispering?" she asks. She's scared to hear his answer.

"Because I think there's someone in here with me."

She floors the gas pedal as the call hangs up. Isaac grips onto his door and he looks to the incredibly stressed girl beside him. "What's the plan?" he speaks up.

"We're gonna get Scott."

When the Porsche screeches to a stop, Isaac looks out the window in confusion. "But this isn't-"

Ophelia shoves the car keys into his hand and scrambles out. "You're gonna go get Scott," she corrects. Her eyes trail up to the Stilinski household looming in front of her. "I'm gonna figure out where the fuck my best friend is."

"You really trust me with this car?"

"Absolutely not. But desperate times call for desperate measures."

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

With Noah Stilinski out at the Sheriff's station for the night, Ophelia has full access to search the home for whatever she could possibly find that might give her a clue on where Stiles is. She's giving herself an hour. If nothing significant enough is found after half an hour, she's going to his father. She can't risk what might happen if she doesn't just because Stiles doesn't want her to.

She sits on the end of his bed with her eyes closed, trying to inhale the different chemo-signals in the air and identify each one. The most prominent is fear. But that doesn't give her much to go off. There are countless suggestions to what might be powering that fear. Ophelia races down the stairs to try and find some sort of clue that might suggest he had been taken. Nothing. The home is completely normal; nothing out of the ordinary. It's spotless. There's no blood, nothing's been taken or knocked over... There's no sign that Stiles had been removed from his home against his will. She's confused. She's concerned most of all, but very, very confused.

Then the front door bursts open to reveal a frantic Lydia, with Aiden Steiner cautiously entering behind her. The banshee's eyes widen in surprise at her best friend. "Fi? What are you doing here?" she questions.

She hadn't told Lydia about Stiles' phone calls. Only Scott and Isaac know. Which means that Lydia is here, knowing that something is severely wrong, because she had heard something. Ophelia rushes over to her, not even bothering to send Aiden her usual glare. "I take it you know about Stiles?"

The werewolf nods. "Yeah, don't ask," he says. "It's complicated."

"I know that," the blonde snaps. Her eyes soften as she looks back to Lydia. "What did you hear?"

"Just that he was saying for someone to come find him," she whispers. "He's missing, isn't he?" The curt nod Ophelia gives instantly makes the girl tense up. "And you have no idea where he could be?" Lydia queries anxiously, the group of three quickly hurrying up the stairs and into Stiles' bedroom.

"He said he was in some sort of basement," Ophelia answers. "Industrial basement. I don't know of any... My plan before you got here was to go follow his scent."

Aiden's eyes widen as they enter the room. "Well, uh, is anything in here helpful?"

"Nope," Ophelia says. "Nothing that could tell us where he is... I think. Maybe? I don't know."

Lydia gives her a half-hearted smile. "Then it's a good thing we're here to help."

The bedroom door suddenly swings open, Isaac and Scott stopping as they realise who else is here. "How did you know?" Scott presses Lydia urgently. "Did he call you, too?" His eyes flick over to his best friend. "Did he call you again?" Ophelia shakes her head.

"I heard it," Lydia says.

"Don't ask," Aiden interjects because Scott can say anything. "It gets more confusing when you ask."

The strawberry blonde turns around to survey the bedroom and she sighs. "Not as confusing as this..." Plastered across the walls above the bed are countless photographs and newspaper articles, each connected by strings of red yarn that are tied to a pair of shears stabbed into the mattress.

"He uses red for unsolved cases," Ophelia tells the boys grimly.

With a shake of his head, Aiden suggests, "Maybe he thinks he's part of an unsolved case?"

"Or is an unsolved case," Isaac corrects.

"So he's still out there," Lydia begins. "And we have no idea where he is..." Ophelia opens her mouth, so she adds, "Apart from that he's in some sort of basement, right?" She glances between Ophelia and Isaac as she asks, "What else did he say to you?"

All attention falls onto the pair. "He said something's wrong with his leg," Ophelia responds quietly. "And that it's bleeding."

"And he's freezing," Isaac mentions.

"Tonight's the coldest night of the year," Aiden informs them. "It's going to drop into the twenties."

"Which means we need to stop fucking around here and go find him," Ophelia says firmly. She nods to Isaac and Scott, the three of them moving to go find somewhere else to talk and plan their next moves. But Lydia's question stops them in their tracks.

"What did his dad say?"

The blonde-haired girl grimaces. She sighs as her best friend's eyebrows raise pointedly. "We, uh... Well, I kind of... I haven't told him yet. Yet," she emphasises.

Lydia's jaw clenches. "Stiles is bleeding and freezing, and you didn't call his dad?"

"He made me promise not to." At the disappointed shake of her head that Lydia gives, Ophelia's eyes widen. "I was going to eventually! If I couldn't find anything here, I was going to. I really think we can follow his scent," she says confidently. "It's our best option."

Scott nods in agreement. "And if he was sleepwalking, he couldn't have gotten far, right?"

"That's assuming he is sleepwalking," Ophelia counters.

Aiden's eyes flick between them. "You didn't notice his Jeep is gone, did you?"

The hybrid stills. "What?" In the blink of an eye, she disappears out of the bedroom, then returns a few seconds later. "It's gone," she confirms in alarm.

"You promised you wouldn't call his dad. I didn't." Lydia scrolls through her phone as she tries to find Noah Stilinski's phone number.

"Wait, Lydia," Scott calls out. "Hold on. We can get more help: Derek, Allison-"

"Everyone except for the cops. Great idea."

Ophelia grits her teeth together. If Lydia's here, if she's heard something, that's the banshee part of her coming to life. The part of her that only hears things when someone's about to die. "Okay, no, you're right," she gives in. "Call him."

"You don't have to call his dad," Scott tells her. "It's five minutes to the station."

Ophelia takes a deep breath. "Okay, we're going to divide and conquer." Everyone nods. "Scott, you go to the station. Keep calling Derek until he answers, I don't care what the fuck you have to do to get him here. Isaac and I are going to try and follow the Jeep, see if it'll lead us to his scent any further, okay?" She turns to Lydia and Aiden. "You guys all right to stay here?"

The strawberry blonde quickly nods. "Yeah, I'll see if I can find anything... you know..."

She gives the girl a reassuring smile. "You got this, Lyds." Her eyes harden with determination. "This is Stiles, people. Stiles." When no one moves, a low growl rumbles in her throat. "Stop standing around," Ophelia yells. "Go, go, go!"

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

With Isaac driving the Porsche and breaking multiple laws on the road, Ophelia is able to fully concentrate on the familiar smell of the exhaust pipe from the Jeep. It doesn't take long for them to discover where the car is. Surprisingly, it leads them to the parking lot of the hospital. Before the wheels even stop moving, Ophelia's jumping out and speeding over to blue car. She rips open the unlocked driver's door and finds that the battery of the vehicle is dead. She glances over her shoulder to Isaac running over to her. "Call Scott," she tells him quickly. "Get the Sheriff here, okay?"

He nods as he fumbles with his phone, then looks back up to her when he realises that she's dropped her own phone back into the Porsche and taking off her shoes. "Fi, where are you going?" he calls out.

Ophelia moves into the shadows, and then a pair of vibrant rubies look back at him. "I'm going to find Stiles." When Isaac glances back over to his friend, she's no longer there. The white wolf emerges out of the dark concealing her form and stares at him. She gives the boy on the phone a curt nod before spinning around and running off into the night.

It takes her a few minutes to get out of the suburban area and into the Preserve. Even with the thick fur coat covering her body, she tries to refrain from shivering. It's cold. Really cold. And if she's a goddamn wolf, she can't even begin to imagine how Stiles is faring. If they don't find him, and fast, he's going to die from either the wound on his leg or hypothermia. As she leaps over fallen logs and boulders, she only wishes Malia was still here. Not Malia, Malia, but the coyote Malia. She needs all the help she can get.

From the second they had reached the Jeep, Ophelia had been able to identify Stiles' scent. It was the same as back in his home. Terror. The car had been saturated with it. Whatever is happening, Stiles Stilinski is terrified. Of course, she would be able to distinguish Stiles' scent in the crowd of thousands, but now... Now it's even easier for her to pick up a trail. Ophelia doesn't know why he would be in the woods. She can't think of a single feasible reason why. But if Stiles had ended up wherever he is because he had been sleepwalking, she can't dismiss anything. Plus, her nose isn't lying. She prides her sense of smell. For some reason, whatever reason, Stiles is here. He's within the trees, or by a stream, or in a cave. Somewhere, he's here.

She remains running along the trail of Stiles' scent for another few minutes. Dried leaves fly up around her as Ophelia screeches to a sudden stop. Her ears flick as she stands impossibly still, listening to the creatures and environment around her continue on. Her pristine coat of fur stands up, almost in something like fear. Even in her current form, she can feel how goosebumps erupt over her entire body. Something, she's not sure what, is almost stopping her from taking another step forward. It's like an invisible string has been tied around her paws then tethered to a tree trunk behind her. It's almost like someone or something wants to stop her from continuing her frantic search for Stiles.

"Who are we?"

Ophelia's head snaps to the side at the voice that rings through her head as clear as day. Her eyes glow as they survey her surroundings, trying to find the source. But there's no one here. She can't hear or see anyone. It reminds her of within her mindscape when they were trying to find the Nemeton. How she had been utterly and completely alone, but someone had asked her a riddle.

"What gets bigger the more you take away?"

The wolf doesn't flinch. A riddle. Another bloody riddle. God, Ophelia had heard so many riddles over the last few weeks she never wants to hear another damn one in her life. A hole, she thinks to herself. But she does recoil when the voice appears again, just as calm and collected as before. Actually, the more she thinks about it, this voice sounds incredibly similar to the one she had heard within her mindscape.

"What gets wetter the more it dries?"

A towel.

"When is a door not a door?"

When it's ajar. She's never forgetting that one. Maybe she should frame it. Her eyes continue to flick around the shadows. Whoever is speaking, she has no idea how she can hear them because there's still no one here.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it. What is it?"

Now, Ophelia had been on her fair share of road trips with Niklaus Mikaelson. She's been given her fair share of riddles from him. But she's never heard this one. And right now, being so preoccupied and distracted with the thought of Stiles dying, she can't even begin to try and think about what the answer could be.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose it..." The next four words cause Ophelia Stone's heart to drop. "What is it, Ophelia?" They know her. She doesn't know them. She can't place a face to the voice, and she's pretty good at that. But it's clear now that whoever this is, they know her. She stands frozen in shock. Not just shock, she's a little scared. "Everyone has it, but no one can lose it..."

She doesn't know. She has no idea.

"Everyone has it, but no one can lose-"

Ophelia howls. It's the only way to drown the voice out. The sound travelling out of her mouth floats through the Preserve of Beacon Hills, disturbing most of the life within the woods, and a few of the citizens asleep in the town. Then suddenly, she can move again. The invisible string has snapped. She lurches forward and quickly picks up Stiles' scent once more. This time, she's even more desperate to find him. It can't be a coincidence that she couldn't move as the voice came calling out to her. She can't afford to lose any more time.

She doesn't know what's going on with her friends. She doesn't know that Lydia had led the Sheriff to Eichen House, only to find Stiles wasn't there. She doesn't know that Rafael McCall has his own theory of where the missing boy is, that he and his ex-wife are currently heading into the woods. All Ophelia knows is that right now, it's up to her to find her best friend. The wolf's eyes glow a deeper shade of crimson as her pace picks up, a rush of adrenaline coursing through her blood.

Five minutes pass by like a few seconds.

As Ophelia drops down a bank, she instantly recognises where she is. She'd recognise this in her sleep. She's a blur of white as she races over to the coyote den, the whimpers and quiet mumblings of Stiles Stilinski becoming clearer the close she gets. Just as she reaches the den, Melissa McCall comes into view. The woman's eyes widen in shock at the wolf, but it doesn't take her long to realise it's Ophelia. Somehow, Melissa had known Stiles was here.

She gives the mother a nod and Melissa hurries inside the coyote den. A few seconds later she reappears, dragging Stiles out as he flails about, trying desperately to get out of her grip. Ophelia has to close her eyes as his pained screams ring through her ears. "Wait! No, wait!"

The wolf stands to the side as Melissa tightly holds onto the boy in her arms as he thrashes and continues to yell. "Stiles! You're all right! Okay? You're all right." As he registers Melissa's voice, Stiles begins to calm down and looks back at his mother-like figure. He breathes heavily and leans back into her. "Stiles, you're all right," she repeats softly.

Ophelia waits another minute before cautiously taking a step forward. She watches Agent McCall's head snap over to the leaves that crunch under her paws, and quickly unholster his gun. She refrains from rolling her eyes. "Back off," the man yells.

Both Melissa and Stiles' attention is drawn over to the side, and as the curly-haired woman realises what's going on she holds a hand up. "Raf, no," she calls out. "It's okay."

His eyes widen incredulously. "It's a wolf, Melissa!" The arm holding his gun doesn't waver once in the air. Ophelia takes another step forward and locks eyes with Stiles. She can hear him breath out deeply.

"And it's okay," Melissa repeats calmly. "We know her." The three ignore Rafael McCall's state of utter disbelief as the animal slowly makes her way over to the pair on the ground. Despite his fear, the man holsters his weapon, opting to take his ex-wife's word. One of the better choices he's made this year.

Once she's in his reach, Stiles holds out a shaking hand toward the wolf. Ophelia touches her nose against his palm and her heart warms as he smiles. Melissa untangles herself from the boy and gives them space just as the animal nestles up beside him. A quiet sob leaves Stiles' lips as he runs a hand down her back. Ophelia leans her chin on his thigh and presses her body against his, knowing that physical contact is something that helps him in the midst of terrible anxiety. "I knew you'd find me," he whispers with a trembling voice.

The wolf lets out a short bark. Stiles wraps his arms around her and chuckles as she enthusiastically licks his cheek.

He's okay.

But all Ophelia can think about is that voice. The last riddle meant something. It was something important. So is this someone just messing around with her? Or is the answer to this riddle the one that could change everything? Not just for her, but for everyone.

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘐'𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺 😭 𝘈 𝘣𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘧𝘧. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘖𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘚𝘖 𝘔𝘜𝘊𝘏 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦 (𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦) 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘭𝘺.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥,
𝘓𝘪𝘷 𝘹𝘹