Night came. To her knowledge, everyone else was asleep. She paced around the bed with her arms crossed and her mind working overtime.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked Michael.

He didn't reply and looked at her as if he was in pain.

"Is this another secret you can't tell me about? He's my real dad. If he's been taken by the monster mentioned in grandmother's journal, I have to know—" She blinked away the tears. "—there's a chance he didn't abandon us..."

"Helena," Michael began in a soothing tone.

She threw her hands up in the air. "Don't try to calm me and tell me how to find him!" Biting back a curse, she reminded herself to be quiet, which was becoming difficult with each passing second. She took a few calming breaths. "Please, tell me something. Anything!"

"Lie down."

She shook her head. "I'm not in the mood for relaxation."

"If you wish to know where he is that badly, I can't stop you. I will help you, but you must pay attention."

Helena's eyes narrowed. She studied his poker face. As usual, he left no indicators to tell whether this was some kind of ploy to get her to relax and fall asleep or if he meant what he said. After mulling things over, she decided to listen to him and flopped on the soft linen sheets.

"Close your eyes," Michael said.

"What will that accomplish?"

He vanished and spoke in her mind. "You must heed my guidance without question."

Helena bit her lower lip and did as she was told.

"Now concentrate on my voice and visualise your whole body inside of a bubble, or anything that makes you feel safe."

Within seconds, she imagined a steel sphere. An air bubble didn't give her any security. She hovered in its confining bounds while unnerving darkness encircled her. Being suspended in mid-air made her uneasy, so she used the same principles and conjured a chequered floor beneath her feet.

Michael appeared next to her. His body emitted a faint glow that soothed her nerves.

"What is this for?" she asked.

"This is a mental shield. It will protect you."

"Protect me from what?"

"It's dark in here," he said, "try creating some light."

Helena glared at him but didn't press him further, afraid he would change his mind and stop helping her. If doing this could be considered as help. She took a deep breath and concentrated once again. This time, luminosity flooded in from above.

Michael moved closer to the wall and, not wanting to stay behind, she did the same. He touched the smooth surface, speaking each syllable with care. "It seems you prefer metal as your guard. Many others use elements or towering fortresses to protect themselves. Some even erect multiple layers, which we should work on later."

She tried wrapping her brain around his explanation. More questions arose. "Who would usually create such things?"

Michael's big, warm hand landed on her head, and he showed a ghost of a smile.

Her eyes bulged out of their sockets. "You can touch me?"

"Your body is tied to your physical plane, and there I can do nothing. Here, your mind is crossing into one of the planes where I can reach you," he replied. His expression grew serious. "I'm not the only one who can get to you out here, which is why I asked you to design your own layer of protection. It will use some of your energy to maintain, so don't be surprised if you grow tired."

"Okay, so what's next?"

"Take my hand, and we will travel to my realm. You must stay close to me. Otherwise, I cannot mask your presence."

She placed her hand in his, and he closed his slender fingers. The air sizzled with energy as it cloaked around them.

In one swift gesture, Michael drew her into an embrace. A second later, the shields melted away, and they arrived in an enormous chamber with tall ivory pillars climbing upwards. A giant messy web of intertwined, multicoloured threads formed the "ceiling". On the ground, they were arranged into neat, endless rows held in place by golden weaving racks. The shiny ebony floor gave a resemblance of an inverted mirror by reflecting the entirety of the chamber.

She drew away from him and gaped at their surroundings. "Where are we?"

"Angel Realm, the Domain of Fates."

Helena tore her eyes away from the colourful web. "What if someone finds us here? Won't you get in trouble?"

"This place is no longer in use by the Gods."

"Gods? There's more than one? I guess knowing that would make a lot of religions sad."

Michael admired the ceiling with a hidden emotion she couldn't place. "There was once one creator. He existed for so long even he forgot his origins. He split into many lesser deities to experience more things at the same time. To him sex, age, skin colour, even what he was, didn't seem to matter." His words lost their warmth. "It is the final outcome that's important—a lesson to be learned."

To her left, a grey strand vibrated. She reached out to touch it, but Michael moved to stand in her way, shaking his head.

"No touching."

She frowned. "Why not? It's just a string."

"Those are not strings. They are links to different beings on the planet."

Taken aback, Helena lost her ability to speak. He couldn't be serious. She twirled around, taking a better look at the threads on the other side. White was the most common colour. A few grey, black, and red peeked out between them. In the distance, a golden string stood out amidst its monochrome neighbours like a beacon. She squinted to try to make out anything past that, but they dissolved into a white fog, too thick for her to see through.

"What do the colours mean?"

Michael studied her eager expression and sighed. "White is a normal human. A shade of grey stands for a person influenced by or used by darkness, or it could be a form of a supernatural being. Black colour belongs to dark creatures such as soul eaters, certain demons, monsters that should never be encountered in your realm."

She pointed to a string and made her way towards it. "What about the golden one over there?"

"Saints," he said as if the word explained itself.

"What are they? Holy people?"

"I will speak no further about the matter."

Helena bit her lip. She wanted to know more. This whole experience was different to anything she had ever done, yet, at the back of her mind, something bothered her. It was as if she was forgetting something.

A blood-red thread stuck out in the row of white and grey. "What about the red?"

"Vampires," Michael spat out the term as if it was something disgusting.

The scarlet cord held her attention. The strange energy pulsed through it. Helena read a lot of stories about folklore and mythical creatures, none of which fascinated her as much as the blood-drinking beings. At last, she had a chance to learn more about Michael's world.

As she drew closer, she realised it wasn't plain red. Rich, crimson liquid coursed the string's length without losing a single drop to gravity.

"Remember, Helena, no touching."

She didn't seem to care for his words. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The string called to her, urged for her to take it, to have her fingers test its texture. Her skin started tingling, and she reached out.

Michael's heavy hand landed on her shoulder, bringing her out of a dream-like state. "Perhaps we should return."

"No!" she shouted.

Surprised by her outburst, Helena ducked her head in shame. What's wrong with me? The whole room buzzed with life. Thinking became a chore and once her eyes focused, she saw her string sticking out of her gut. It seemed paler against the other whites and didn't shoot upwards like the rest. She stroked it, revelling in the silky feel.

"What happens when two strings touch?"

Michael eyed the ceiling. "It adds an encounter."

"And who decides that?"

"Fates."

"But you said no one used this place anymore. How—"

Michael's expression grew dark as if remembering something painful. "They were banished to the Human Realm a long time ago. Since then, things remain as the Gods wish for them to happen."

Helena glanced back at the thread connected to a vampire somewhere on the planet. Would we meet if our strings touched? She shook her head. That wasn't important right now. The reason they came here was to try to find her father.

Her mother insisted he left them, but Helena never believed it. What if something bad had happened to him because of the darkness described in grandmother's journal? If vampires and other supernatural beings were real, there was a chance her grandmother wasn't insane like her mother wanted her to believe. There was a possibility he was taken from them. She needed to know the truth.

"What about my dad? How do we find him?"

Michael seemed to think about it. "I will begin the search for his soul. Wait here and do not touch anything."

He made his way back to the entrance. As the distance between them grew, a feminine voice whispered something like a chant at the back of her head.

Her body stiffened, and as if possessed, she grabbed the blood-red string. A chill rushed through her, raising the fine hairs on her arms and neck. The energy bordering the link was nothing compared to what surged through its core. It invaded her against her will.

"Helena, no!" Michael yelled.

But it was too late.

The chamber became a background noise, leaving behind an urge to unite the strings. When she understood what she had done, her white link had already wrapped itself around the vampire's.

Her heartbeat thudded in her ribcage and her vision dissipated. A powerful wave of alien energy fought its way through the bond which appeared like a red-and-white bow. She clasped her hand over her burning chest. Every part of her body hurt but didn't at the same time.

An eternal minute later, her knees give way and the last thing she remembered was a sturdy pair of arms catching her fall.