The capital, despite its elevated position, had now disappeared, while the Tiber still flowed by our side as an inevitable companion surrounded by farms concentrated in small rural settlements, in turn scattered along the course of the river as far as the eye could reach. 

At first, we passed through inhabited country, a large and respectable district, inhabited by decent people, with good roads, one or two inns, and now and then a farmer or a notable on business. 

The land was well cultivated, and water and windmills could be seen everywhere, as well as the famous vallus gallicus, drawn by a donkey, which harvested the grain and did the work of several men. At regular intervals there were resting places where the horses could be changed and perhaps a drink or a snack could be had. 

Let us say that our adventure was a far cry from the great labours of the ancient heroes. For much of the journey we had good food, a roof over our heads and people to talk to. For those who could not ride, or had no money to spend, they travelled in comfort on a wagon which we rode alongside to exchange news. 

Come on, my readers, I know you were expecting a less mundane adventure, but there is a reason to be glad that we live in the present and not in the much-vaunted Golden Age. If we live in the greatest empire in the world, there is a reason. There is no lack of comfort here. 

But those of you expecting a more adventurous journey need not worry, for as we progressed into hillier areas, the villages become smaller and sparser, as do the resting places. Not far ahead of us, taller and taller mountains rose, shaded by trees. On some of them crows and other birds of prey could be seen in the distance. 

It was said that there were ancient necropolises between these mountains. 

In fact, they were not only said to be there, but they were also there. They could be found all over the peninsula, especially in Tuscia, and it must be said that they were dangerous places, for not everything that lay is dead and not everything that walks is alive. 

Nevertheless, as long as one was travelling and, on the road, it was difficult to come across one. In fact, it is not even difficult to avoid a necropolis. They are not exactly stealthy. Their wraiths are more problematic. They are dangerous, especially if they get it into their heads to follow you, but we had no such worries. 

Volusius glanced around, bringing his hand to his eyes to shield himself from the sunlight that was now high, and contemplated the panorama. 

“When you look at the empire so quiet from above, it almost seems as if every problem has dissolved overnight,” Volusius said to himself. 

“That is the power of stillness..." said I, placing myself beside him, "...it makes everything seem at peace." 

“What do you say? We stop here and have lunch?” said Volusius. 

I nodded and we both dismounted from our horses to rest. The sun was high in the sky, but thanks to the light breeze from the north gently caressing the grass, the air was pleasantly cool to the touch and carried a pleasant pine fragrance. In fact, a pine forest stood not far from them, giving off a strong smell of needles and resin that reached the nostrils. 

It was a very frugal lunch that could be eaten quickly, and when it was over, we both lay down on the grass to rest our muscles after the long ride and let the horses graze peacefully. 

“Just out of curiosity, where are you from?” said Volusius. 

“I was born along the Danube, although I have travelled so much that I can say that I no longer have a place where I come from... no more than any other place on the face of the earth,” replied I. 

“The Danube? That's far, as well as pretty long to be called a place to come from.” 

“But it was a nice place to grow up, especially in the river. I liked to dive in it. I would dive in, and the waters would rise and with my imagination I would become the little river goddess that periodically flooded the fields, making the surrounding lands fertile...” said I recalling sweet memories of when I was a child, but without answering from where exactly "...and you, what did you dream about when you were a child, if you don't mind me asking?” 

"Me? I had no rivers, but I certainly had my trusty wooden sword that cleaved the air like splendid, sharp steel. I was the noble hero strong and upright in battle, who had, however, ended up lost in the woods playing..." said Volusius, “...but tell me, did you often fantasise as a child?” he went on, lying sideways to look at me better. 

“Why? Are there better activities for a child to do?” I said, turning in turn to Volusius and attracting the latter's interest with that answer. “You can be king of the highest heavens or discoverer of the deepest forests. Conquer them a thousand times and lose as many, from time to time learning without limit until you become wiser.” 

“Yes! There is no better way than to imagine being somewhere else and wondering how to transport that other world to this one, failing as many times as necessary without consequence, until victory. In the end that is the power of imagination.” 

There was a moment of silence, then I became curious about his past again: “Tell me, why did they call you Isengrimus?” 

“It is a nickname that has stuck with me since I was a child. It was given to me when my father went up north to the town of Carnuntum. We visited a military fort, and I started playing with one of the helmets. You know, the kind that was too big for a child. The soldiers there gave me the nickname Isengrimus. I think it means 'fierce iron'.” 

“Huh, huh, huh! That means you are a dangerous person...” I said giggling, “...should I be worried?” 

“Who knows! I was also a priest of the Hirpi Sorani some time ago.” 

“Uh! Tell me, tell me,” I said, taking out a notepad. 

“Do you really take notes for something like that?” 

Volusius looked at me in confusion. 

“Who is the writer here? Who is the one who will put your glorious deed to paper? Let me decide what is important to the readers,” replied I. 

Volusius snorted, imagining that such curiosity could do no harm. After all, the hero of a story must have an interesting past. 

“We wolves of Soranus worshipped the god Soranus, dressed in wolf skins and dancing on hot coals. Our centre was Mount Soratte, a lonely mountain north of Roma, in an area rich in caves and whitish waters. On its eastern slopes there are deep wells from which mists flow. It is said that at the time of the first sacrifice on Mount Soratte, a pack of giant wolves stole the flesh of the victims and fled into the forest. Brave men chased them into a cave that emitted this mist, which killed almost all the men, but not the wolves. 

The survivors returned to the village, where an epidemic soon struck, decimating the population. An oracle was summoned, who revealed that the wolves were protected by the god Dis, and that following them into the forbidden cave had caused the plague. The only way to purify themselves was for the priests to behave like wolves. And so the Hirpi Sorani were born, and the same people who still live there today take the name 'Irpini'.” 

I eagerly took notes and quickly engraved them on the tablet with my stylus. 

"You really didn't know the story?" 

"I'm not really from here, you know? But if you want, I can tell you about werewolves in the north. Wolf warriors who dressed in the skin of this animal. The most talented of them could transform themselves into great wolves. If you were a priest of Soranus, you should be able to learn it too," I told him, pointing my stylus at his nose. 

"I'm a respectable citizen now, I'm too old to howl at the moon!" 

"Oh, come on! The Ulpians, the Vopiscans, the Aelians... they are all said to have wolf blood. Your own city is said to have been founded by a she-wolf. You were a wolf of Soranus! Do you have any idea how good a scene where you turn into a wolf would look? Written the right way, it would be a work of art!" 

"But weren't we hunting dragons?" 

"When you are the artist, you get to decide what happens..." said I, "...and after all, the journey is long. Something interesting has to happen otherwise the reader gets bored." 

There was a moment of silence, then we both laughed, and we continued our journey. 

We left the resting place behind us and crossed the road. At either end there was a clear strip of grass separating the road from the edge of the forest, three metres from the edge of the road: as soon as they reached the trees, all traces of civilisation disappeared. 

Looking down the path, we could see the clear band of the road through the trees in the distance, which were already hiding the hills. Looking straight ahead, all we could see were tree trunks of infinite variety and dimension: straight or curved, twisted, sloping, squat or slender, smooth and glossy or rough and gnarled; but all were brown or grey, surrounded by thick undergrowth. 

The slope of the road was gentle, but the constant twists and turns of the road often made it impossible to see far ahead. The terrain rose slowly but surely, and as they progressed the trees seemed to grow taller, darker and thicker. There was, however, the sweet sound of birds to cheer us on. 

As evening approached, however, we realized too late that we had lingered too long over lunch and had to decide whether to camp there for the night or continue and risk having to find shelter late into the night. Rather than risk not finding a station further on, we decided to look for a corner in the forest. 

We left the road and walked a short distance into the woods, rounding a large protuberance rising from the ground that would give us shelter and hide the fire we were going to light for the night from prying eyes. 

We crossed the forest in search of a natural passage through the undergrowth, avoiding brambles and the trunks of young trees, until we found an open clearing between the trees, surrounded by firs and with no undergrowth to hinder us. 

We deposited our respective packs on the ground and unhitched the horses so that they too could take a well-earned rest. Volusius, however, carefully tied a rope around their necks, lest our overconfidence leave us stranded in the middle of the forest and began gathering stones to make a fire. I, for my part, went into the forest and collected pieces of fallen bark, dead branches, leaves and fir cones to light and keep the fire burning. 

When darkness finally came, the camp was over and we could both rest in peace under the branches of the firs, in the crackle and warmth of a cheerful, sparkling flame, each with our own supper in our hands, taken from the supplies Sofia had prepared. 

We sat leaning against the trunk of a fir tree until our eyelids grew heavy. Then each of us, in our own comfortable spot between the roots of the fir, curled up in our own blankets and fell into a deep sleep. 

There were no watches. No one feared any danger from this forest, for the fire was more than enough to keep out any animal threat they might find in the woods, and there was little to fear from human threats, hidden as we were by the trees and the lay of the land. 

A few curious little creatures would come to watch us as we slept, but apart from squirrels and birds, there were no unwelcome visitors to disturb our sleep during the night. 

After all, who could have been interested in disturbing the sleep of a mighty wolf like Volusius and the sweet nymph who accompanied him on such a beautiful starry night? One only had to look at our sweet, serene faces to realise that it would be a grave crime to wake us, and yet there was someone who had such intentions towards us. 

Meanwhile, a group of men huddled around the crackling fire they had lit, seeking its light and warmth in the darkness. Perhaps merchants, perhaps travellers, or maybe someone more dangerous; they stood around the fire chatting until they heard the sound of breaking branches coming from the forest. 

A hooded figure dressed in eccentric red emerged from the trees. He wore a silver mask and held a long staff. 

At his appearance, the men quickly brandished their weapons and moved into formation with their spears in their fists in his direction, but the figure continued to advance, ignoring the threat and taking no notice of them. 

“Hold it right there, identify yourself!” said the captain of this maniple. “Who are you?” 

“No one in particular...” said the red cloaked figure, playfully twirling the staff around him and not taking the situation seriously at all, “...you have nothing to do with me, nor I with you, but the pawns are on the board and you are in the way...” he said with elegant movements and even finished with a polite bow, “...I therefore ask you to leave this place at once.” 

Titubation was what the bandits felt at that moment, but that feeling vanished as a cloud dissipated and the moonlight shone on the precious silver mask of the red clad man, whose clothes, now that there was more light, betrayed a certain wealth. 

“I must assume that you have no intention of leaving...” said the red cloaked man, “...indeed, from your reaction I would say that I am the one in danger now.” 

The figure continued to fiddle with the staff that produced a strange ringing of small bells, as the air around them grew unnaturally cold. The men did not understand what the strange figure had in mind, but they sensed something disturbing coming from him, and as they saw their breath condense in front of their noses and felt a chill at their backs, they began to have a bad feeling. 

The figure suddenly stopped the staff and pointed it at them, and at that nod, a swarm of wraiths emerged from the darkness of the forest around them, closing off every avenue and filling the air with terrible screams and, in the days that followed, the surrounding villages of terrible rumours. 

The figure moved slowly onto the road and from there looked in the direction where Volusius was standing, in the direction where this figure could now act undisturbed. 

“Well, well, it seems you have company...” said the red cloaked man, “...but you will find neither nymphs nor dragons in your path.” 

When Volusius opened his eyes the next morning, an inviting smell of cooked meat reached his nostrils and made him hungry. He did not want to wake yet, and yet the smell was all too inviting. 

He half sat up, yawned and stretched his arms, then stood motionless with his gaze fixed on the void, waiting for his mind to fully awaken before he realized that what he smelled was not a figment of his imagination. 

“Hello!” said I with a smile, intent on stirring a stew and startling him enough to make him recoil until he crashed into a tree behind him, “Hungry?” said I, pointing to the stew in front of him. 

“I forgot you were there,” said he with a sigh of relief. 

“...!” 

“You have something that allows you to appear out of nowhere and go unnoticed until you decide you want to be seen.” 

“There is an explanation, perhaps it is that I am a beautiful nymph and can go unnoticed in the eyes of mere mortals unless I wish otherwise...” said I meandering towards Volusius, “...or it will be that I am an evil serpent, camouflaged in the ground,” said I, slipping away until I returned to stirring the pot. 

“For an early morning, I see you are well awake and already at work...” said Volusius cheerfully, rising to his feet and stretching his legs and arms, "...it is a skill I find commendable, though difficult to imitate.” 

Indeed, someone had to think of breakfast while you slept. In fact, given the hour and the distance we had to travel, I thought it best to have a hearty meal. Not that you were in much of a hurry to wake up, were you?” 

“I like to sleep on a blanket of grass,” said Volusius, lying back on the ground and closing his eyes as he ran his hands over the grass beneath him. 

“It's hard enough to tone your muscles, but soft enough to be comfortable,” I continued, throwing my back to the ground in turn, and then watching the soft light filtering through the branches. 

Volusius stood for a moment, contemplating me, while I sighed happily. Everything around me seemed to glow: the daisies blossomed deliberately around my body, framing me in a ring of shining white pearls, while the branches bowed to me, giving me the sun and the shade, I needed to look like a little goddess... or so Volusius told me afterwards. 

Volusius shook his head, then sat down in front of the fire. He stirred the contents of the saucepan, where he saw chunks of meat floating about that did not come from his supply. He turned the ladle a few more times, closed his eyes and tasted it, feeling the meat melt on his tongue. When he opened them again, he noticed that I was watching with trepidation. It seemed I would have exploded had Volusius not given me an answer about the taste of the stew. 

"Non fallavi de te, valde vel dea vel nympha esse debes, I was not mistaken about you, you must indeed be either a goddess or a nymph..." said Volusius, smiling at me, "...cuniculus, nonne verum? Rabbit, isn't it?" 

"Captavi meis manubus, I caught it with my own hands," said I with a touch of pride. I was on the verge of bursting with joy, like a child receiving a compliment from his father. I picked up a bowl and handed it to Volusius. 

"My compliments then," he said, graciously accepting the bowl I had brought him and pouring his portion of stew into it; but though he accepted it with a smile, my face suddenly became sad. 

"I have done many disasters in my life, but slithering through the grass and lying in wait for the fatal bite is something I have always done well." 

I lowered my eyes and fell silent. Volusius also fell silent. He did not understand what I was talking about, but he realised that he had to break the uncomfortable situation somehow. He rummaged in his backpack and took out a piece of bread, broke it as he did at home and gave me half of it while I was busy eating my portion from the pot. 

I accepted the gift politely and with a smile, but despite the gesture I remained with my head bowed, my mind full of thoughts and my eyes full of sadness, until Volusius decided it was time to try a solution... a more eccentric one. He stood up and held out his hand with an offer. 

"Would you like to dance?" he said. 

"What!" 

"Would you like to dance?" 

"I repeat: what?" 

"Come on, someone who falls asleep in someone else's house must have done even stranger things than that," he said, confirming the suggestion by extending his hand to me again. 

I looked hesitantly at Volusius' hand and, with equal hesitation, extended my own. Volusius grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him. He put his hand on my hip, and we began to twirl at a pace that only our imaginations could hear. 

Between bows, spins and hip swings, my body, stiff at first, slowly began to be carried away by the urgent rhythm of this little dance, while my eyes were captured by Volusius' sunny and gentle face. 

I laughed with pleasure at this little folly, as did Volusius, and probably the animals around us, who did not understand whether the couple had simply gone mad or whether this was all a trap to catch one of them off guard. Not so much the birds, who probably felt safe in their branches and whose songs only sporadically sounded like accompanying voices and more like mocking laughter at us, but a red fox, who looked at us in confusion and somewhere between doubting whether this was a trap or an opportunity to raid our supplies. 

“Looks like we have guests,” I said with a laugh, throwing myself onto the grass and you can imagine how happy I was at that moment. 

“We would not be good guests if we did not offer breakfast to the only one who did not mock us," Volusius said, pulling a piece of dried meat from his pack and throwing it to the fox, who, after a moment of hesitation, took it with him as he ran off into the bush. 

I sat down again and Volusius did the same. He picked up the bowl with his breakfast, I picked up the pot, and we both resumed eating, completely relaxed and full of joy. There was still a shadow of sadness in my eyes, but at least that shadow was dimmed by a new light. 

After breakfast we set off again, each on his own horse, leaving the newly dismantled camp behind. 

The sun had only just risen, but the air was still pleasantly cool, ideal for a pleasant chat, accompanied by the singing of birds just waking up and the sound of hooves on the pavement. 

We didn't talk about anything in particular, just a few anecdotes from our lives that would make each other laugh, and I had plenty of those. In fact, I had a long life in which to accumulate them: some of them were good little childhood mishaps, like the time the biscuit tin mysteriously disappeared from the kitchen only to reappear just as mysteriously shattered hidden under the living room furniture; or the time, as a girl, I was so fascinated by the books in the town library that I was locked in there at night. Things that happen to everyone, I suppose, but which elicited a laugh from Volusius, who at that point could only tell me how, as a boy, he used to run around with a wooden sword looking for new challenges, until those challenges started chasing him around the city and he had to learn to stay hidden for a while. 

We heard the sound of a small bell but paid no attention to it. The sun had risen, but the air was still fresh and smelled of resin, so they continued to chat to the sound of hooves pounding on the pavement. This time we chose a more specific topic. 

I adore epic poetry, whether evocative poetry or powerful prose, and you can imagine how pleasant it was to know that Volusius shared my passion. Not too surprising from someone who loves tales of nymphs and dragons, but you should have heard the passion with which he talked. 

Noble deeds, comic digressions, tragic scenes... we argued with fierce passion: who was the greatest, who was the most memorable, who was the most likable hero. Which stories, which authors, which literary styles... no stone was left unturned in our constant discussions and debates. 

This brought back Volusius' memory of his old literature teacher and how, one fine spring day when he was young, he had instilled in him a passion for the epic: "Since you like to dream of being a hero, at least learn how to do it," he had said, handing him a book. 

I smiled, also because his little discovery of the world of heroes was not too different from my own: when I was a child, I used to play with stacking books and building a beautiful castle in my father's library, until one day he had said to me: "I don't mind you playing with books, but if you're going to play with them, I might as well teach you how to use them. 

We both laughed, and then a bell rang. 

We heard the sound of a small bell but paid no attention to it. The sun was even higher, but under the cool shade of the branches it mattered little, and under the sound of hooves on the dirt road we continued to chat, this time about a sadder subject. 

I said little of my family, and what little I did say was mostly in looks and silences, in which Volusius could understand my deep grief and my need to confide in someone. 

Volusius wanted to console me for the loss of my family, of whom only my brother remained, but he did not force the conversation. He did not ask, he did not press, he let the words come naturally from my mouth, listening patiently and encouraging me to continue. A few words were said from time to time, but they flowed steadily. I saw him smile and I think he also wanted to put his hand on my shoulder, but it seemed too early for him to be that close. 

It's been a long time since I've had someone so close to me and I don't remember talking about these things with a stranger, but I guess with all we've said to each other, we're not so strangers anymore. I even slept over at his place. Yes... I slept at his house; I did... I bowed my head. 

Volusius brought his horse close to mine, looked for something in his breast pocket and took out a purple handkerchief with a gold inlay, but when he saw its colour, he put it back in his breast pocket to look in another pocket. 

He took out a white handkerchief and handed it to me with courteous and humane hand. At that moment I realized that tears were running down my face and I accepted his gesture with gratitude. 

Volusius, my dears, was always a kind man, despite his wolfish appearance. Or maybe it's the other way round, because wolves can be such good parents. I wiped away my tears, I carefully folded the handkerchief, and I returned it with as gentle a smile as I could muster. 

I really appreciated his dedication and compassion, and then a bell rang. 

We heard the sound of a small bell but paid no attention to it. The sun was at its peak, but in the darkness of the hollow, the frost bit deep into our bones. We had stopped chattering, and the only sound that reached our ears was that of hooves beating on the grass, making their way through the bracken. 

We were advancing with empty eyes and minds in the grip of sleep, when in the tangle a branch struck Volusius on the cheek, rousing him from his mental torpor and making him discover that he was in a different place from the one he had expected. 

It seemed a dead place, the trees black and thin like charred bones, writhing in despair in the stillness, while the roots protruded from the ground as if the ground itself were burning beneath them. Above them, the few leaves, with little light filtering through them, looked old, rotten and desperate for light. 

He looked around in confusion, finding only plants and shade, but no sign of the path he thought he was crossing, then he heard the sound of a small bell. 

At that sound, I lazily changed direction, heading towards an even colder and darker part of the forest. Volusius remained motionless, watching her, until he heard the sound of a small bell again, this time ringing twice in succession. Volusius did not move, however, except to grab the reins of my horse and slow my march. 

Again, he heard the sound of a small bell, this time rung impatiently three times. At this sound, Volusius looked around for its origin and cause. 

“Cur? Why,” said a voice whose direction Volusius could not understand, “Cur non dormit? Why do you not sleep?” 

He turned over and over, trying to understand the source of the voice, until a shiver ran down his spine and he realized that he had to get out of this place as soon as possible. 

Turning his horse in the direction that seemed least obstructed by plants, Volusius urged the animal up the slope. He struggled forward, zigzagging between the trees, until, as he neared the summit, he saw a distant light that filled his heart with hope. 

Then, driven by a thirst for sunshine and fresh air such as he had never felt before, he made his way to the top, when a shadow armed with a bell stood before him, blocking his path. 

“Who are you?” said Volusius, trying to hide the nervousness in the tone of his voice and placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. In my condition, there was no enemy he would not face, but courage and defiance had their proof when he had to ask: “Do not hide in the shadows, friend or foe, but show yourself!” 

The shadow agreed to this request and moved slowly through the branches, without a living leaf moving or a dry leaf on the ground making a sound. 

It was a slow advance, and yet the shadow seemed to grow larger, colder and more terrifying with each step. A shadow that cast long shadows, for a shadow that being was. In the moment when the light of twilight left him, Volusius realised that the opponent he had challenged was no longer of the world of the living. 

Volusius no longer wondered who he was, nor did he care what he wanted from him. He immediately turned his horse and pulled mine in another direction, back to the bottom of that dark hollow, hoping to somehow find the path that must have led them there. 

He spurred the horse through the undergrowth to where he thought it would be easiest. From time to time, he glanced at me, but neither the jolt of the ride nor the frightened manner of his hand seemed to wake me. 

“Not good, not good at all,” said Volusius to himself, noticing that he could no longer tell which direction he had come from. In fact, the further he got, the more he felt he was heading into the darkest and deepest part of this damned forest. 

Unable to do anything else, he kept on going, only to find more and more branches and bushes treacherously blocking his path. No matter how he punished these treacheries with sword strokes. With every branch, with every leaf that joined the shadow that followed him, the punishment was one. But no matter how much he beheaded those traitors, new enemies stood before him, grasping and holding him like a horde of ghosts summoned from the underworld. 

“Stay with us...” they seemed to say, seizing his arms and legs, “...don't run from the fear that follows you. Let it give you its deadly embrace,” but to such pleas Volusius responded only with sword blows, raising his iron with his right hand as he led me with his left to a place of safety. 

Volusius began to wonder if he would ever make it out, and if his fate had not already been sealed by entering this dreadful forest. He began to wonder if he had not, by chance, ended up in an ancient necropolis, long since abandoned. A sacred place that had been swallowed up by the forest for centuries, sleeping undisturbed until he passed through; yet he could not recall seeing any sign of burial mounds or mausoleums, or any other sign that he had entered the world of the dead. 

Looking both ways, he seemed unsure of which way to go. Volusius rested one hand on the trunk of a large tree and looked up at its branches. He needed light, he had to find light, if he really could not find his way out of this forest, at least in the sunlight the wraith would not dare attack them, but the further he went the more he doubted he would find it easily. 

Volusius drew his sword and, with increasing desperation, began to force his way through the vegetation once more. Light, he had to find light, no matter what the cost. And so, he continued to advance with his sword, until at some point he felt a sudden, unnatural chill that froze his breath and body. 

“Don't tell me that... not in this condition,” said Volusius, tightening the reins on my horse and spurring his own forward. 

He opened a gap between the plants and found a clear passage, crossing it as fast as he could without knocking me from my horse, and riding as far as he could. 

The feeling of frost disappeared, but at the cost of ending up in an even darker part of the forest and far from the light and warmth of the sun he so desperately needed. 

“Varuclezia, please listen to me, you must wake up! You I need you awake!” he said, but as before, neither shaking nor words seemed to be able to shake me from the clutches of sleep. 

He did not know what to do and this made him even more frightened. He got off his horse and helped me to do the same. He made me lie down on the grass beside a large stone. He put his hand on the back of my neck, lifted my head and laid his forehead on mine. 

“Ausculta me! Varucletia, ausculta mea vox illa... listen to me! Varuclezia, listen to my voice,” Volusius whispered in a silvery voice, and as a light seemed to form around him. Whether it was mere chance or the action of a god inspiring him, I do not know to this day; but at that moment it did not matter, nor was it of any interest to Volusius, and he continued to say: “follow my voice, reach me here. Reach me out of the darkness.” 

The light faded, but I continued to sleep without a glimmer of hope. 

“What on earth is going on, why can't I wake you up?” he said to himself, getting up and looking at me worriedly. He put his hand over his eyes, moved them here and there and found no peace, and for the first time in his life Volusius felt fear and despair. 

Again, an unnatural chill came over him, and Volusius was on guard against the ghost. “And so, we will not desist...” he said, taking his sword and standing in a guard position, “...well then, come forward, I am not afraid of you,” but Volusius knew in his heart that these were vain and lying words. 

A sound was heard, ominous and unnatural, and Volusius took a step back as the area around him began to grow darker and colder. Volusius held his sword high, keeping watch as the branches began to creak ominously in the wind, but no threat appeared. 

This waiting did not please Volusius, who could do nothing but wait. He turned his head in my direction and was pleased to see that I was well, at least in appearance, though strangely still asleep. 

He looked around again, but again saw no sign of the ghost or any other aggressor: only darkness, wind and eerie creaking noises. Creaks that might have sounded natural were it not for the unnatural voice that began to echo around him: 

“Iter est inhaesum, the way is fixed...” said the ghostly voice, “...quod immanis inaninsque est sors quaerituri, for monstrous and empty is the seeker's lot.” 

A wraith emerged from behind the rocks: a long black cloak, and under its hood nothing but dark voids. A vague shadow, so black it looked like black holes in the deep shade behind it. 

A shush of silence, a soft whisper, a hush, a hiss, and Volusius felt the wraith's hands around his neck, pinning him down. 

They were cold to the touch, its body nothing but mist. The ground was wet and muddy, the air was cold and crisp, but it didn't feel like an early winter chill, nor like a draft in a room with a broken window. It felt like death, like a grave, like a tombstone or a mausoleum. 

Like cold fog, like a winter night, it felt as if there would be no new morning. 

Metal, wood, flesh... nothing that was material could touch something that was not. Volusius wriggled beneath the creature, struggling in vain to free himself: to free himself from its grasp. The wraith only tightened its grip, its cold fingers digging into his skin. 

Gasping for breath, Volusius tried to summon his strength, but the wraith seemed immune to all his attempts. It was as if it was feeding on his energy, growing stronger by the second. 

He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing with fear and desperation. The wraith's dark voids seemed to stare into his soul, tempting him to succumb to the darkness. 

But Volusius refused to surrender. With a burst of willpower, he summoned all his spirit and pushed against the wraith's grip. To his surprise, the creature's grip loosened slightly, giving him the chance to wriggle free. He scrambled backwards, got to his feet and faced the wraith with determination. 

The wraith hissed, its misty form swirling around him like a fierce wind. Volusius stood his ground, his heart still pounding in his chest. 

“Defeat cannot touch me...” the wraith whispered, its voice carried on the wind like a death knell, “...for I am death itself, and you are but a mortal.” 

Volusius gritted his teeth, refusing to show fear and feeling a surge of wrath in his heart. 

“So may be...” hissed Volusius, growing darker than the wraith’s void itself, “...but I will enjoy watching you struggle.” 

With that said, the wraith lunged at Volusius, its misty form reaching out to devour him. But Volusius was ready. He sidestepped the attack and made a swift, precise strike with his sword, slicing through the wraith. He struck the wraith in front of him hard, causing it to fall away from him in an instant. 

Sensing the danger had not passed; Volusius remained close to my body, like a wolf ready to pounce and shielding me from any further threat. He struck again and again, until the tip of the blade snapped against the hard stone beneath him. In an instant, the wind died, the unnatural chill gone. 

Volusius was still lost in the forest, and so were the horses that ran away, but at least everything seemed more harmless and peaceful. He looked around, and as his muscles calmed, even the trees and bushes seemed to have laid down their weapons. All that was missing was the sunlight. 

Volusius turned to me, who, despite the commotion, was still lying there in my peaceful sleep, as if nothing had happened or could disturb me in any way. I was as beautiful as flower in the white snow, standing bright in the cold. Few would have dared look at me, but he did, and at that moment, he felt the rest of the world disappear. 

As the sweet, pungent scent of nature and spring grass reached his nose, Volusius felt relaxed and happy to see me safe. 

As he approached me, the grass moved in synchrony with his every step, as if he were leading a rapturous audience in an elaborate dance. The wind played with the leaves of the trees, leaving a path clear for my path. 

He put the pieces of the sword back into its sheath and knelt gently by my side, pondering what to do; then he lifted me gently and placed me carefully on his shoulders. He was silent as he carried me up the hill, but at the top of it his voice weaved a song, just as sweet as honey. It was so mellifluous that it could calm the worst of beasts as well as the strongest of warriors. 

His voice was deep and strong, yet smooth and rich. If he couldn't wake me up from that spell, he would accompany me in my dreams. He looked around. Even the trees and bushes seemed to have laid down their weapons. All that was missing was the sunlight. 

The advance was slow and tiring, but now that he was calm and free from fear Volusius could move with greater ease than before. The woods were thinning out as they approached a clearing on the distant hillside and Volusius knew they were getting close to the end of the forest. A gentle genius of the place seemed to take possession of him as his worries stopped biting as hard, and he began to worry less about the lack of light in these woods. 

As time passed however, Volusius started noticing small traces of moonlight here and there: like the glow of multiple lanterns showing through some trees up ahead; A glimpse of a shining white horse in the distance, formed by the silhouettes of plants; tiny dots all around, coming and going like the mottled fur of a green-coated creature. He tried not to look afraid. "Even wraiths are afraid, because I'm scarier than them" he said under his breath half-heartedly, not believing himself too much. 

The icy wind bit deep into his bones and the foliage did not seem to want to let much of the moonlight through, but Volusius did not give up. 

He had managed to make the wraith with the little bell lose its trail, so that danger was gone at least for now, but it would not do him much good if he could not find a way out of this forest. 

Volusius waded deeper into the moonlit darkness, his steps echoing in the eerie silence. His heart raced as he quickened his pace, desperate to save his companion's life. Every second wasted was a risk he was not willing to take. 

He breathed heavily into the cool night air. The call of nocturnal birds and the rustling of leaves were vaguely comforting, making him forget for a moment the dark encounter with the wraith. Eventually he came to an ancient oak grove, two huge branches arching and intertwining like gnarled fingers, forming a narrow path that seemed to lead into eternity. 

It was sparsely planted with bushes, but completely free of shade or canopy. It might have been one of those paths the country folk used to get wood, or it might have been a direct route to who knows what village, but Volusius took it as a good omen. 

Volusius pushed himself along the path, pushing aside every bush and twig in his path. His muscles burned with each step as heat poured from his head, thawing every single muscle fibre. Soon his arms and hands were glowing red with heat, but Volusius pressed on relentlessly. Finally, the end of the path was in sight, with no shade or canopy to impede his progress. 

When he reached his destination, Volusius collapsed to the ground and bravely built a fire with his bare hands. He took a moment to savour the sensation of warmth, knowing that he would soon have to travel back into the darkness. Volusius sat down beside me and tried to keep me warm. The flames flickered in the darkness, as if promising us a new beginning. 

“I'm sorry...” said Volusius hesitantly, “...but I think the only thing I can do for you now is to get you out of this forest. Rest well here, though the wind in the trees seems more threatening than usual. When you wake up, you will be in a safe place.” 

At his words I shifted, perhaps because of the heat of the fire on my skin or because I felt something under his touch. My face softened and a small smile appeared. 

“My little yellow ember...” I murmured, curling into a ball and smiling contentedly, “...I'm glad to have you in my hands again.” 

Volusius was at once uncomfortable and pleased to see me so happy. He didn't understand what I meant, but he was glad that I seemed to be dreaming peacefully. He put his hand gently on my shoulder before wishing me sweet dreams. 

Suddenly, Volusius felt himself sinking into a nightmare filled with fear and panic as he heard a shrill sound echo through the air. 

It was not the sound of a small bell, but of something else. It was an almost imperceptible sound, a soft melody creeping in the shadows above his head. 

He turned towards the sound, which echoed over the waving grass and vibrated in the earth beneath his feet. 

He rose and walked forward until he saw a figure standing before him. Beautiful, seductive, with shapely curves and eyes that caressed him like silk on steel. Her skin was flawless, smooth and creamy and pale. But it was her eyes that captivated him, they were like sapphires, almost transparent with the light shining through them. He found himself staring into them, unable to look away. 

Volusius stood up and walked forward, drawn by this presence that he would have liked to make his own for the rest of his life, until the sweet moments we spent together came back to him: the cheerful chatter, the laughing, the arguing, as well as the sweet smiles. 

Faced with the joy of being with someone with whom he could share his passions, it seemed futile to follow the image that so delighted his eyes. In fact, fear gave way to such sweet memories. I was still there, alone, and if he had taken another step forward, I would have been abandoned on the lawn with no means of defence. 

Faced with this fear, the beautiful image before his eyes dissolved and the sound of the melody changed: it was no longer sweet, but a song of fear, and of fear was also the image. Stunned by the song, Volusius saw the image of Sofia appear before his eyes, not in a seductive form, but in tears and cries for help. 

Without delay, Volusius ran to Sofia's aid, ignoring the branches and leaves that stood in his way. He ran with all his strength, spurred on by the song that drove him into the dense forest that closed around him like monstrous jaws ready to receive him. He ran until those jaws closed behind him. 

The trees were tall and thick, their trunks ancient and gnarled. The branches and leaves formed a canopy that made it hard to see far. The darkness is pervasive here, a darkness beneath the cover of the trees. 

Finally, Volusius found himself in front of an image that had no counterpart. There was no other lake in the world in this place. It was a small lake, surrounded by trees, with a small island in the middle. 

Volusius looked around cautiously, desperately searching for any sign of danger or Sofia. He could see nothing, and the area seemed eerily quiet and bright - perhaps too quiet. It seemed a much safer place than where he had been before, but there was something unsettling about it that made Volusius uneasy. 

The wide lake reflected the moonlight with an eerie, ghostly glow. The dark water was tinged with white, as if it had been sprinkled with snow. The banks were covered with beautiful wildflowers and low bushes growing healthy and strong, in ancient, undisturbed soil. Among the branches of the trees that lined the lake, hiding its existence from prying eyes, there was a soft, relaxing chorus of songbirds, like a lullaby sung by muses. It floated out into the night on gentle notes, then descended to rest on a bed of moss. 

Around him, owls sat silently on branches he couldn't see until he walked right up to them. They looked at him curiously, cocked their heads, but didn't hoot or move away. A light breeze suddenly blew in from the south, bringing with it a chill that suggested more rain was on the way. 

Volusius stood motionless for several minutes, trying to understand what was happening or what he was doing. He shook his head and looked around in panic before sitting down on the grass and putting his hands over his face. Then he opened his eyes in shock to see something moving towards him across the surface of the water, shimmering under a veil of high evening dew. 

Slowly emerging from beneath the surface, a white-skinned woman with soft eyes appeared before Volusius. Her features were indescribable, yet somehow familiar to him, inspiring a vague sense of awe, much like the first time he met me some time ago. 

She was like a forgotten pearl in a silver mirror, her lines and colours sharp despite the faint moonlight that fell upon her. Submerged up to her head only moments ago, she now stood before him completely naked. Her blossoming breasts and sweet hips were impossible to hide, even in the darkness of the night. 

As she approached him with sensual grace, she spoke in a honeyed voice, urging him to come to her aid. “The water is so cold, and I feel so lonely,” she pleaded, hoping for a response from his compassionate heart. But instead of sympathy, the words broke the spell that had brought him there. Despite the lake creature's intentions, what he had done was painful to Volusius. 

Volusius stood there, helpless and betrayed. He abandoned me to save someone he cared about, only to find out it was all a lie. His heart pounded with anger as he glared at the woman before him, hoping for some sort of explanation. With his broken sword in his hand, he stepped closer, knowing all the while that she was recoiling in fear. Just as he seemed ready to reach her, she shot forward, grabbing his legs and dragging him into the water below, under the gaze of the wraith with the small bell.