Valentina walked without knowing since when or toward where, and that place offered her no way to answer it. The golden mist did not move with the air, did not part at her passage nor react to her presence, remaining suspended as if it did not belong to any possible movement, and the beams of light crossed the space without descending from a specific point, without casting shadow nor changing direction, as if the very notion of origin did not exist there. Each step she took left no mark, did not alter the ground nor generate difference between the point where she was and the one she had just left, and although she advanced, the environment did not transform, repeating itself without variation, without offering any sign of limit or exit.

She kept walking, not because she believed she would find something, but because stopping did not change anything. Her gaze moved constantly, not in search of something specific, but because remaining fixed on a single point did not return anything different to her, and in that continuous attempt to find any change, sign or indication that she was not completely alone, time ceased to have meaning within her perception, it did not lengthen nor shorten, it simply ceased to exist as a measure, replaced by the constant repetition of an environment that did not respond.

She did not call anyone nor shout, but she searched again and again without finding, and it was at that point where her steps began to decrease, not because of physical fatigue, but because the act of advancing ceased to have purpose under those conditions. Her body stopped without the need of a conscious decision, her gaze descended without fixing on a specific point and, slowly, she crouched down until remaining in a squatting position, her hands resting on her legs without tension, her posture stable despite what she was feeling.

She did not cry immediately, her breathing remained firm for one more instant, but it did not hold; the air left her chest in a contained manner, without breaking into sound, and her eyes closed for barely a second before opening again, without finding anything different in front of her. It was then when the tears began to fall, not in an uncontrollable outburst nor in a gesture that would break her posture, but in silence, sliding down her face without her trying to stop them, but without allowing her body to collapse nor her breathing to become disordered.

She made no sound nor called anyone, but she was not empty. She thought of them, not as loose names nor incomplete memories, but as what they were: her family. Sebastián, Virka and Narka. She did not need to reconstruct scenes nor words, because what sustained her was not what they had done, but what they represented, the way in which they were always firm, the manner in which they did not retreat even without certainty, even when they could not control what was happening.

And that was what she did: not let herself fall, not break, not stay.

Her breathing began to stabilize little by little, not because the environment changed, but because she stopped resisting what she felt without allowing that to dominate her, her hands releasing from her legs without tension, her body remaining in that position only the necessary time before beginning to rise.

It was at that moment when the change occurred. There was no explosion, rupture nor violent manifestation; a light began to appear, chestnut, clear, clean. It did not expand toward the environment, did not alter the mist nor touch the beams of light, it remained in her, as if it were not something that emerged, but something that had always been there and now became visible. It did not transform her body nor modify it, but it stabilized it, defined it, made it coherent from within. The fragility that had been present before no longer existed in the same way, not because it had been replaced by external strength, but because it no longer broke.

Valentina did not react with surprise, she did not observe herself nor try to understand it, she simply stopped crying. Her eyes remained open, the tears still present without continuing to fall, and she finished standing up, her posture straight without rigidity, her forehead held high without needing to affirm it as a gesture. Her hair, dark brown on the upper part and white on the lower, did not cover her face, both eyes were visible, without change at that point, only clarity. Her expression did not become a wide smile nor change abruptly, but it held itself with decision, without needing more.

She looked at the environment again, not expecting something different, but accepting that she had to advance, and at that instant something appeared in front of her. It did not arrive nor move, it simply was there: a translucent rabbit, without color, its form defined but not completely solid, as if it did not fully belong to that place, but was not separated from it either. It did not advance nor retreat, did not emit sound, it only looked at her.

Valentina did not take a step back, did not show fear, but she did not advance immediately either; her gaze held on it, not seeking to understand it, but recognizing that its presence did not belong to the repetition she had experienced up to that point. Something had changed, not in the place, but in the condition. The silence remained, but it was no longer the same.

—I can help you return with your family—. The phrase did not cross the space nor move from the rabbit toward her, it did not vibrate in the air nor generate echo in the golden mist that remained suspended without any reaction, it formed directly within Valentina's perception with absolute clarity, with the same structure, the same tone, the same way in which her own voice organized itself when she thought without speaking, without distortion nor difference that would allow it to be identified as something external, and even so it did not generate rejection nor provoke alert or need to step back, because at the same instant in which she heard it, something within her responded without passing through doubt nor constructing a barrier that would try to protect her from the unknown, not as a conscious decision, but as an immediate acceptance that did not need to justify itself.

She did not ask herself where it came from nor questioned whether she should trust or analyze the situation, she simply accepted it. Her gaze remained fixed on the rabbit without tension nor hardening, without seeking signs of threat where she did not feel them, and her body did not show resistance, not because she was incapable of doing so, but because she did not find reason, as if that voice were not foreign to her existence, but a coherent extension of something that was already within her.

The smile that appeared on her face was not wide nor sudden, it was not an exaggerated reaction nor a display of overflowing relief, it was small and soft, born from an internal point that did not need to express itself outward to be real, a clean expression that did not break the stability she had built, but confirmed it. The light that covered her body did not expand nor alter the environment, but it became more defined, clearer in its contour, as if it responded to that internal state without imposing itself on what surrounded it, remaining contained and stable.

—Follow me—. The voice manifested again without any change, with the same neutrality and absence of evident emotional intention, not as an order that demanded obedience nor as an invitation that sought to convince her, but as a direction that did not need to reinforce itself.

Valentina took the first step without stopping to think about it, not out of impulse, but because she did not find resistance within herself that justified otherwise, her body responding with the same naturalness with which she had accepted the voice, while the rabbit began to move forward with short and constant jumps, without hurrying nor stopping, maintaining a distance that did not vary. The environment did not change, the golden mist remained the same and the beams of light continued without origin, nothing transformed, and even so it was no longer the same.

Valentina walked behind it without accelerating her pace, her gaze fixed on that single form that broke the absolute repetition of the place, not out of fear of losing it, but because there was nothing else to observe that offered any difference.

—Why do you help me?—. The question came out without tension nor distrust, without raising the tone, not as an accusation nor demand, but as a simple need to understand that which she had already accepted.

—Because of a promise—. The answer was direct, it did not extend nor explain more than necessary.

Valentina continued advancing, processing those words without stopping, and when the next question began to form, the voice manifested again before she could say it. —I am not going to tell you with whom it was made—. There was no pause nor doubt, the phrase closed that point with enough clarity to leave no room for insistence. —But that promise includes protecting and helping Sebastián's family—. It did not emphasize the name nor change the tone. —And you are part of that—.

Valentina did not stop, but her expression changed slightly, a small and contained gesture, a slight pout that did not last beyond an instant, enough to reflect that there was something she wanted to ask and could not, but not enough to break the stability she had reached. She did not insist nor ask again, she simply accepted.

The rabbit continued advancing with the same constant rhythm, without altering its movement, and after an interval that could not be measured under any parameter within that place, the voice manifested again. —We are about to arrive—. It did not point to a place nor describe the destination or explain what was coming, but the phrase was enough.

Valentina did not accelerate her pace nor stop or look around, she only followed, and for the first time since she had begun to walk in that place, continuity ceased to be absolute, not as a visible change nor an immediate transformation, but as a difference that had not yet fully manifested, but that could no longer be ignored.

The advance stopped feeling like absolute repetition before the change became visible, not because the environment had altered its structure immediately, but because something within that continuity began to give way without breaking completely, as if the golden mist, motionless until that moment, were losing cohesion without moving, separating without shifting, opening without generating wind nor drag, revealing a direction that had not existed before, a straight line that had not been created at that instant, but discovered under a condition that until now had not been fulfilled. Valentina did not stop upon perceiving it, she did not need to analyze whether that was different, because it was, and that was enough to continue advancing without changing the rhythm, following the rabbit while the mist opened on both sides without resistance nor sound, without visible transition that marked the exact point where it ceased to be and where that path that now extended in front of them began.

The space still did not offer reference of distance, but direction ceased to be a supposition, it was a defined line that did not deviate nor interrupt, and within that clarity that had not existed before, something began to take shape at the end of the path, not as a sudden appearance nor as a construction that emerged from nothing, but as a presence that was already there, revealing itself as they advanced, acquiring definition without needing to get too close to recognize it.

The mansion.

It did not present itself as an unstable illusion nor as an incomplete image, it held itself with the same coherence with which it had existed in the reality that Valentina knew, each line, form and proportion maintaining themselves without visible distortion, as if there were no difference between what she saw and what she remembered, and at the same instant in which she recognized it, her body responded before she could stop to think about it.

She ran.

She did not hesitate.

She did not measure the distance.

She did not wait for confirmation.

Her impulse was not born from desperation, but from certainty, from the direct need to reach that point that represented something that did not need to be questioned, her steps accelerating without breaking the stability she had maintained until that moment, her gaze fixed on the structure at the end of the path, without diverting her attention toward anything else.

The rabbit did not follow her.

It moved ahead.

And at the instant in which Valentina was about to reach it, its figure placed itself in front of her without visible displacement, stopping her advance without touching her nor generating impact, simply occupying the necessary space to prevent her from continuing.

Valentina stopped, not out of fear, but due to interruption. Her gaze lowered toward it, and for the first time since she had begun to follow it, her expression tensed, not in an exaggerated way, but enough to break the neutrality she had maintained up to that point.

—Why?—. She did not shout, but she did not soften the question. —You said you would help me—. She did not add more. She did not need to.

The rabbit did not move, did not step back nor change its posture.

—I am fulfilling it—. The voice remained the same, without emotion nor variation.

And at the very instant in which those words settled, something in the environment ceased to hold under the same form. It was not an abrupt change nor an instant replacement. The mansion did not disappear, it distorted. The lines that defined it began to lose stability, not collapsing nor breaking, but giving way, as if that which sustained it ceased to correspond to what it truly was, and under that alteration, what was in front of Valentina ceased to be what she had recognized.

The space reconfigured itself, not as a broken illusion, but as an exposed truth. The clean and ordered structure of the mansion became something else, a form that did not need to be reconstructed to be recognized, a place that did not belong to her present, but that could not be forgotten.

A deteriorated neighborhood, broken, covered in waste, with walls marked by abandonment, uneven and dirty ground, heavy air. It was not an incomplete recreation, it was exact.

Valentina recognized it without moving, without needing to get closer. There was no doubt nor confusion. It was the place where she had lived, before everything, before Sebastián, Virka, and Narka.

She did not step back, did not tremble nor look away. She held it, without denying it, without rejecting it, without breaking in front of it.

The rabbit spoke again.

—Good—. It did not add emotion nor raise the tone, and in the same flow its body moved with a precise jump, reaching Valentina's head without generating weight that would make her tilt, positioning itself there as if it had always belonged to that place. —It is correct—. Its voice did not change. —Not to forget it—. It did not add more than necessary. —But not to stay in it either—.

Valentina did not respond, did not argue it nor deny it, she simply accepted it.

And in that same instant, the environment changed again. The mist did not return as before, it gathered and concentrated around them, not covering them, but defining the space, and when it dissipated again, what remained was not the neighborhood, but the mansion, the same one, without distortion nor alteration, without mixture.

And in front of her someone else was already there.

It did not appear, did not emerge nor descend, it simply was there: The Magistro standing, motionless, covered by a uniform dark robe that did not respond to light nor to its absence, its face completely hidden by a mask without features, leaving only the eyes visible, where fractal runes moved with a constant slowness that did not obey external time. On its chest, three runes arranged in a triangular form remained fixed. It did not emit presence nor impose pressure, but it could not be ignored either.

Valentina did not step back nor lower her gaze, but she did not advance either.

—Who is it?—. The question was not directed at the figure, but at the rabbit.

The rabbit did not answer, did not speak nor move, it only kept its attention fixed on the figure in front of them.

The rabbit did not answer the question, did not turn toward Valentina nor make any gesture that indicated intention to explain what was happening. Its attention remained fixed on the figure in front of them and, without visible transition, it began to advance with short and constant jumps, without altering the space under its paws nor generating sound that broke the stillness, moving until stopping at a distance where there was no longer real separation between both, as if the notion of distance did not fully apply at that point.

Valentina did not follow it immediately. Her gaze remained fixed on them, observing how the rabbit positioned itself in front of that motionless figure that had not changed since it appeared, whose presence did not impose itself, but could not be ignored either, and it was at that instant where something different occurred.

It was not a sound that crossed the air nor a vibration that traveled through the ground. It was an interference, a break within perception, a noise without defined form, similar to static, but without origin nor direction, manifesting around the rabbit and the Magistro without expanding toward the rest of the environment, without altering the beams of light nor touching what surrounded them, a contained distortion that did not harm nor press, but could not be ignored either.

Valentina did not step back nor cover herself, she did not react with fear, but she understood. She did not comprehend what they were saying nor could interpret anything concrete, but she understood that they were speaking, not with words nor in a way she could follow, but they were doing it.

Her curiosity did not turn into disordered impulse, she did not hurry nor interrupt abruptly, but she did not remain still either, advancing with measured steps until she was close enough for her presence not to be ignored.

—What are you talking about?—. The question was not raised nor demanding, but not timid either, it was direct.

At the very instant in which her voice settled, the interference stopped, not gradually nor diminishing, it simply ceased to exist. The rabbit remained in its position, the human figure did not move, and both directed their attention toward her, not as a sudden reaction, but as recognition.

The Magistro did not respond, did not emit sound nor generate any signal that indicated intention to interact. Its gaze remained on Valentina only the necessary time and, without modifying its posture nor altering the space, it slightly raised the direction of its eyes toward the upper part of that place, as if what it observed did not belong to the same plane in which they were.

And it disappeared.

It did not fade, did not decompose nor transform, it simply ceased to be there.

Valentina did not look away from the point where it had been, did not try to follow it nor asked where it went, but her attention returned immediately to the rabbit.

—Who was it?—. There was no pause. —What were you talking about?—. Her expression tensed slightly, a slight pout forming without exaggeration, enough to reflect that the answer mattered to her without breaking the stability she had maintained.

The rabbit did not take long to respond.

—It is a secret—. The voice remained the same, without variation nor emotion.

Valentina held the gaze for a moment more without insisting nor repeating the question, and at that same point the voice continued.

—You must enter—. It did not point to the mansion, it did not need to. —There you will be able to return with your family—. It did not add explanation nor develop further.

Valentina stopped tensing her expression, the gesture disappeared, not because she had obtained all the information she wanted, but because she did not need more to move forward. She leaned slightly forward, extending her hands and taking the rabbit carefully, without brusqueness, lifting it up to the height of her chest and holding it with a soft firmness that did not press it.

—Thank you—. She did not raise her voice nor exaggerate the emotion. —Bye, little rabbit—.

Her smile was small, real. She hugged it for just an instant, without prolonging it more than necessary, and then she set it down on the ground with the same care with which she had lifted it.

—I hope to see you later—. She did not add more nor wait for a response.

She turned and walked toward the mansion. She did not look back, did not hesitate nor stop. Her figure crossed the threshold without the structure reacting, without the environment changing at that instant, disappearing into that space that no longer needed to be questioned.

The place remained in silence. The rabbit remained alone. The mansion did not collapse nor fade, but it ceased to hold itself as a central point. The space returned to be empty of reference.

And the rabbit no longer had the same form.

It was not a marked transformation nor a visible rupture, its silhouette simply ceased to correspond to that of an animal, it rose, it lengthened, adopting a humanoid form without defined features, without face, without visible identity beyond its contour. It did not emit light nor cast shadow, but it was there.

And it spoke.

—Valentina…—. The voice did not change, it remained the same. —…yes, we will meet again—. It did not make a prolonged pause. —But you will not remember it—. It did not add explanation nor develop the statement.

The form faded without transition. There was no trace nor residue left. The place returned to be empty, as if nothing had been there.

_____________________________________________

END OF CHAPTER 88

The path continues…

New chapters are revealed every

Sunday, and also between Wednesday or Thursday,

when the will of the tale so decides.

Each one leaves another scar on Sebastián's journey.

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