In the middle of the third week of January, the snow water, definitively replacing the rain, had begun to occupy the roofs, the patio and the paths. Everything was frost, ice and cold wind.

   The adventure of the two young people had been sealed between them as a secret. And they had been lucky, because they returned just at dawn, before anyone could “miss them.” Lee-Won invented that he had been in town all day, doing the “orders” that had been sent to him. And that he had gone to bed early because he had a headache. It was fortunate that the place behind the stables, where the young man slept, was only occupied by another Warghost worker who was known for being a drunk; and when they questioned him, so as not to have to admit that he was almost unconscious, he assured anyone who would listen that the young man was sleeping “peacefully” in his bed when he returned at night, from “Simply clovers.”

   Meanwhile, Tthor's training continued. He had been practicing with the bow and arrow although without making much progress. He went to the shooting range every afternoon, most of the time alone; for Lee-Won was busy with Warghost's errands and Professor Evans had been confined to his room, recovering from a bad case of the flu, as Darius had told him, for almost a fortnight.

   After some fruitless shooting practice, Rémona had taken charge of her disciple. The first task assigned was, in the young woman's own words, “concentration.”  Tthor was near the fireplace of a forgotten room, full of dust and with some furniture covered by white sheets. She made him sit up straight, leaning against a wall, with his legs crossed. She gave him a square hand mirror and asked him, in a gentler tone than Professor Evans's, to look at it and tell her what he saw.

   "What a… am I supposed to… see?"

   "You tell me..." the young woman answered as she left. "I'll be back in half an hour to see what you've accomplished."

   The last thing Tthor did was concentrate. At first he looked in the mirror and since he did not feel comfortable with his image, he put it aside and began to wander with his thoughts: Professor Evans and his dislike of him, the letter from Wilgenyna that had arrived that same morning – he which caused Tthor more nostalgia than joy- Murk, that new friend he had and who had also written to him. And, without being able to avoid it, Professor Evans' look of contempt once again entered his thoughts. Suddenly, a sound that seemed to come from a small side door brought him to his feet, almost jumping. Two low voices, one of them familiarly guttural, kept him on alert. He walked towards the door and tried to listen to the conversation coming from the other side.

   "Don't make me repeat it. You know I lose patience quickly," said the familiar voice.

   Tthor had no doubt who he was talking about: it was Professor Evans.

   The other voice responded almost in a whisper:

   "Yes, my Lord, as you say."

   "Get what I asked for. And stop wasting time with the boy. I have already told you that he is not the heir. When you get what I asked of you, the Dark Lord will reward you."

   Contrary to his will to stay and continue listening, Tthor made the decision to leave or risk being discovered. So he snuck up a side staircase and climbed each step, trying to make as little noise as possible.

   He looked down and saw shadows silently receding. He was able to confirm that one of them, the tallest, was Persseus Evans. He tried to sharpen his eyes to discover the other identity. And for the first time he was grateful to have infallible vision in the dark. He saw very clearly a wrinkled, porous face, surrounded by long, disheveled hair and barely half-opened eyes, black, deep and cold; a cold that froze Tthor's blood. Even with all the details seen, he did not know how to recognize it. He knew he had seen it before, but he didn't remember where. He felt the urge to follow him. He waited for Professor Evans to walk away down a side hallway and advanced at a stealthy pace.

   Tthor had never been in that part of the abbey. The only thing he knew was that there was access to the catacombs and most of the chambers and corridors were flooded. He hesitated a little at that prospect but ended up advancing decisively when he saw that the man was already out of his sight. He didn't know why but he felt the urge to follow him. He descended a spiral staircase and continued through a narrow recess. He could feel the water up to his knees. He instinctively covered his nose at the putrid smell that invaded everything.

   As he shuffled forward, he wondered what that man was looking for down there. A couple more steps and he felt his foot catch on something. He pulled on it but couldn't get away. He looked up and saw that the stranger had disappeared at a fork. He bit his lip nervously as he strained to unlatch his foot. With each movement he seemed to get more stuck.

   Suddenly, a noise behind him made him jump. A visceral fear convinced him that Professor Evans had perhaps been following him. He turned around suddenly prepared with his fist clenched to hit her as hard as he could. He saw a lump approaching him and threw a punch that, fortunately, came out without force.

   "Calm down, Tthor!!! It's me!"

   Lee-Won's face emerged from the darkness with his black eyes bulging and his nose wrinkled from the foul smell that surrounded them.

   "Lee-Won!!!" Tthor sighed in relief. " What are you...doing here...down...down?"

   "Looking for a square roundel."

   Tthor laughed amused.

   "My foot got stuck."

   That's not our only problem," said the young man as he crouched down and immersed his hands with an expression of deep disgust. "Did you realize that the level is rising?"

   Tthor noted with apprehension that the young man was right. The water was already over his waist.

   "Lee-Won! I don't…don't…know how to swim!"

   Lee-Won grimaced in disbelief.

   " It's a joke!"

   "I wish it were...!"

   "You must be the only one Asís who doesn't know how to swim. They were the owners of the sea and famous for their oceanic battles."

   "Thank you...thank you. I feel better."

   Lee-Won looked at him worried.

   " I'm sorry, Tthor, I didn't mean to. Forget what I said. I'll get you out of here," he said in a deep voice, while pulling the boy's leg with extraordinary power.

   Tthor leaned with both hands on the wall in front of him and began to exert force. His foot seemed to give a little but he still didn't break free. They both began to despair when the water reached their chests.

   Lee-Won took a deep breath and submerged. Tthor felt the young man's hands pressing on his ankle. He clung with all his might to some protuberances protruding from the wall and yanked his leg upward.

   Three things happened at the same time: a wave of dark water came from nowhere and covered Tthor completely; His foot came free violently, scraping against something hard and then hitting Lee-Won in the face and the wall the young man was leaning on gave way completely causing both of them to be rolled to the other side.

   The current carried them a couple of meters and threw them on a giant rock. The chamber was very extensive, which meant that the water covered only a few centimeters above the ground.

   Tthor had swallowed so much water that he thought he would never breathe normally again. The insistent cough did not stop him from looking for Lee-Won. He found him lying, fainted, a couple of meters away and ran to him. Unable to speak, because his throat felt stuck, he began to shake him compulsively.

   A nervous laugh made him stop. Lee-Won looked at him with mischievous eyes and a wide smile. A red bruise was swelling near his eye, the result of the blow that Tthor had accidentally given him.

   Tthor said angrily:

  "No…it was not fu...fu..."

"...nny..., yes it is! Maybe this will make up for it. Your foot got stuck in this..."

   Tthor's eyes lit up and the expression on his face lightened a little. Lee-Won was holding a fairly rusty sword, with a rusty handle and completely covered in mud.

   Tthor took it with an emotion that he could not explain. As he wielded it, he noticed that the blade became wavy, in the perfect shape of a flame, from the middle to the tip.

   "It's beautiful! Tthor whispered with renewed strength.

   "If you say so…," said Lee-Won as he sat up. "Are we leaving?!"

   Tthor gripped the new treasure tightly, seeming not to care about its rust, its stains, its dullness, or even the putrid smell of it.

   "Over there!" Said Tthor, with confidence.

   "How do you know?"

   " Because there is light and the light comes from above, there must be an exit there."

   Lee-Won looked at him with a mixture of surprise and admiration. He jumped up and followed him.

   "Ouch!" Tthor complained as he took a couple of steps forward.

   "That? What do you have?"

" I think I hurt my foot."

   And indeed, a large cut on the sole of the foot and profuse bleeding put them on alert again.

   "You cut yourself with the sword. It has traces of blood, look..."

   "I have to stop the bleeding, b…but…ho…how?"

   "Calm down!" Lee-Won said seriously, while he cut a side piece of his shirt and tied it to his friend's foot, almost professionally.

   The improvised treatment worked quite well. The young people followed the light coming from above and a few minutes and a dozen stairs later, they emerged onto the first known landing, without realizing that someone was sneaking behind them. Tthor advanced and stood in front of the three paintings that he had observed so many times.

   "I always end up in the same place…," he thought."

   "Let's go so Professor Evans can cure your foot."

   "No!" Tthor said suddenly, making Lee-Won jump.

   "I was supposed to be with Rémona...in a class on...mirage. She would make fun of me for a whole week if she knew what happened. Better to keep this between us. Can I count on your silence?"

   Lee-Won nodded, thinking that Tthor was right and secretly sharing his repulsion towards the professor.

   They resumed their path to the kitchen, which was the closest place to take refuge.

   "How did you get to where I was?" Tthor asked, plopping down on a bench and being grateful that the kitchen was empty at that hour.

   " I saw you enter the hallway of the first chamber. You were walking very fast and very stiff. You weren't paying attention to anything else. You didn't answer me when I called you. I thought, then, that you were walking in your sleep...because you are a sleepwater..."

   "Sleepwalker…"

   "Yes, and what did I say? Are you awake or asleep..."

   Tthor smiled. He looked at the sword that he held tightly and replied:

   "I have never felt so awake in my entire life.'

   "And you...what were you doing there?"

   Tthor felt that it was not worth revealing his intention and replied, shrugging his shoulders:

   "Nothing…"

   Lee-Won didn't notice the lie and asked:

   "How will we heal your foot?"

   "My cousin Wilgenyna taught me some tricks..." he said, feeling his voice sweeten. "If you were here with me..." he thought with a sigh, as he brought a mortar and a handful of herbs closer, "everything would be different..."