Childhood was an amazing period of life–a time when you were unconditionally dependent on the decisions of adults. Theo always consider herself an obedient child and never thought of being anything else. Obedient children were held up as examples to the neighbors, but even obedient children were sometimes drowned in the river by distraught mothers.

Theo often saw fear in her mother‘s eyes. That fear had many shades. Most often superstitious. But rarely gratuitous. And when next to her father always reverent. This time, the fear was animalistic, forcing her to seriously consider her small position in this vast world.

She felt like the world was floating around her as she fell onto soft grass. She wanted to bury herself deeper in it–to stop this dizziness, to hide in the embrace of his soft, caring hands. Without breaking eye contact, Raiden discreetly caressed her chin. Theo closed her eyes and lifted her chin higher, baring her neck like a cat. Thin fingers slid toward her carotid artery and pressed down gently. Her heartbeat quickened.

As soon as he left the room, Theo listened to her body. She got out of bed carefully, afraid of getting dizzy, but nothing of the sort happened. Theo tried not to think about how Lada’s serious condition didn’t fit that narrative. She headed for the shower. That feeling of inevitability that had long been a part of her swirled in her stomach, making her nauseous. To get rid of it, she had to find the strength to make one call.