No matter how slowly she walked, the stairs still had an end. After the knock knock knock at the door, Angelina entered Dorothy Louisa's apartment on the third floor alone, without bringing a maid.
The blonde writer before her also appeared older than Angelina remembered, but Angelina, already trapped in a fear she could not understand, had no mind to ponder such things.
The puzzled Dorothy therefore asked why Angelina had come here, then accepted the letter and the box.
The door had already closed. While "Dorothy" opened the letter, Leisha walked to the small sofa where Angelina sat. Shade did not approach them. Instead, he took a deep breath and leaned against the living room door.
No one spoke. The blonde writer quickly opened the letter, and after merely glancing over it, it slid from her hand and fluttered onto the carpet. Tears spilled from her eyes. Trembling all over, she held the metal box and opened it. Then, the most despairing cry the Outlander had ever heard in his life rang out once more.
"No, Leisha! No! This isn't real!"
Fear had reached its limit, yet Angelina felt strangely calm. She did not think about the meaning of those cries, nor did she have the heart to care about the female writer. She had already picked up the letter and looked toward the box as well.
Crack~ Crack~ Crack~
The continuous sound of shattering glass rose all around them. Everything outside the windows was collapsing into darkness. The light in the apartment living room dimmed as well, though it did not vanish completely. Instead, it remained at just the right level of gloom.
Amid "Dorothy's" continuous cries of despair, Angelina stood beside the tea table with her mouth open, as though time had frozen her once more. Leisha,