Faro climbed, yet felt no ground beneath him.
The staircase held no weight — as if he were ascending within himself.
The silence wasn't empty.
It was expectant.
His heartbeat slowed.
Something had shifted.
He wondered:
"Did I want strength because I was weak?
Or did I believe weakness was a sin?"
A flicker of the narrator's face —
that calm, mysterious voice…
"Why did he choose me?"
Then — he glimpsed a shadow in the fog.
A small child running. Faceless.
A whisper followed:
"Faro… Faro…"
He tried to speak, but no words came.
He wanted to ask: Who am I?
But the question stayed buried — too heavy to rise.
When he reached the top, the light vanished.
And he stood in the dark — for a moment, or a century.
---
Elsewhere…
A man in a long black coat stood before a mirror that didn't reflect him.
Beside him, a woman in a veiled shawl.
She said:
"He passed the third trial… quickly."
He replied, without turning:
"Speed isn't everything…
The fourth?
Something in him will break. Beyond repair."
She added:
"Or… he will find it."