Episode 7empatija..skaidrumas.watikabas ir zvwris gyvs raava ir kitas zveris drakonas juodas.st edmundas brt ne ji nwra trecis juoda juoda maro ragana[0000]nera kur oasudlrpyi watikanui kodel dieva zudai mara syedudi[00000]tu aklasne jos sviesos

A voice calls from the ruins of the chapel. St. Edmund’s statue stands on the broken altar, but his face has been replaced by a mask of black glass. I step closer, and the glass reflects nothing—no sky, no light, no my own eyes. “Trečias juoda,” it says, and the sound comes from the walls, from the ground, from the roots that have pushed through the floor. “Maro ragana.” The words are a rhythm, a breath. I kneel, and the cracks in the floor form a pattern: [0000] – four zeros, a code that means nothing, means everything.

I scratch the zeros into the dust with my finger. The dust trembles, and a beast rises from it, a creature made of bone and silence. Its eyes are sockets of pure black. It does not attack. It waits. Another shape forms beside it: a second beast, this one raw and living, its skin wet with the heat of a hidden sun. They are both turned toward the east, toward the column of smoke.