The dining hall was filled with laughter and voices echoing against the walls, a usual bustle that barely reached me as I followed Anais. We chose our usual table, near a window through which the warm midday sun filtered in.

  "Here we are," said Anais, dropping her tray with an almost exaggerated enthusiasm. "The food is the same as always, but I think today they added an extra touch of... mystery."

  Her comment drew an involuntary smile from me as I observed her tray, where the same pieces of bread rested, a small portion of cheese and a fruit I could never identify.

  I sat across from her, trying to push from my mind what had happened in class. The scream, the murmur... I still felt it like a distant echo. However, Anais had that ability to drag me back to the present.

  "Everything okay, Laira? You're quieter than usual today," she said, breaking off a piece of bread while her eyes examined me with concern.

  "Yes, I'm fine," I lied, because the truth was hard to explain. "I guess I didn't sleep much last night."

  "Then that explains it," she replied with a reassuring smile, as if that was all she needed to know.

  "You should relax a bit. And by the way, did you hear about the field trip? Do you have any idea where we're going?"

  I shook my head. "No, but... I suppose it'll be interesting." Again, that feeling that I had agreed to something bigger than I could handle filled my chest, but I said nothing.

  "Well, if it turns out to be a fiasco, at least we can laugh together," she said, leaning forward a bit. "Though I'm curious, Laira. Lately I've noticed you're... different? I don't know, like you're always somewhere else."

  Her comment took me by surprise. Anais usually joked about everything, but there was something in her tone this time, something serious. I searched for an answer, but before I could find the words, her carefree smile returned. "Anyway, you know, maybe I'm just imagining things."

  I watched her as she changed the subject to something trivial, and although her voice filled the space with warmth, part of me couldn't stop wondering if she was right.

  Recess had passed amid others' laughter and Anais's rambling, which filled the air as we walked toward the classroom. I nodded distractedly, caught in a whirlwind of thoughts, until the dry sound of impact interrupted my reverie.

  "Oh, sorry, Father!" I exclaimed, realizing I had bumped into someone.

  Before me, standing and smiling, was Father Sevac, a figure who commanded respect with his calm presence, though there was something about him that gave me a strange chill.

  "Don't worry, daughter," he replied with a deep, affable voice as he bent down to pick up his fallen books. "Laira, right?"

  His gaze met mine for a second, and I felt that uncomfortable perception intensify, as if his eyes contained something I couldn't understand.

  Anais, beside me, seemed strangely tense. Father Sevac greeted her with a voice that, though cordial, carried a tinge of discomfort. He returned an amiable smile, but both seemed to avoid extending the interaction. There was something unspoken in the air, something I didn't understand.

  As I bent down to help him pick up his things, a detail caught my attention: one of the books, older and more worn than the others, had on its cover a symbol that was painfully familiar to me. It was almost identical to the one that had appeared on my phone, traced in Aramaic like an omen. My heart stopped for an instant.

  Before I could say anything, Anais touched my shoulder. "Come on, Laira, we'll be late for class," she said, pulling me gently but firmly. I obeyed without protest, though my mind was still trapped in that brief revelation.

  Father Sevac said goodbye with a calm gesture, but as we walked away, I could feel his gaze fixed on my back, as if he knew I had noticed something I shouldn't have. Already in the hallway, Anais walked quickly, as if wanting to leave that moment behind.

  "What's with that priest?" I asked.

  "It's better not to talk about him," Anais murmured.

  For now, the only thing clear was that this encounter had just added another piece to the unsettling puzzle spreading before me.

  The classroom was calm, a welcome contrast to the internal chaos I had been feeling.

  "We live in complex times," Sister Carmila began, her eyes passing from face to face. "We don't need to look too far to realize that the world is changing, and not always for the better. The Scriptures have warned us of these moments. They speak of conflicts, of famines, of disasters that strike not only the earth, but also the hearts of men."

  I listened attentively, feeling how Sister Carmila's words dug into me like an anchor, drawing me to the present. Although part of my mind remained trapped in recent events, the strength and conviction of the lesson seemed to echo my own experience, as if the words were directed specifically at me.

  "Remember," Carmila continued, raising a small copy of the Bible with a solemn gesture, "our beliefs are not only a refuge in difficult times; they are also a call to action. We must be prepared, not only to face challenges, but to be light in the darkness. You may think we are only young, but you already see how evil does not wait for us to be older or stronger. It knocks on our doors when we least expect it."

  Anais, sitting next to me, kept her attention fixed on the teacher, though from time to time she cast quick glances toward me. I knew she noticed that the usual seriousness in my expression seemed deeper than usual. I, for my part, clung to every word, trying to fit together the pieces of a puzzle I still didn't understand. The mention of evil knocking on doors made my skin crawl, recalling the vision of the symbol in Father Sevac's book and the echo of the voices from which I couldn't escape.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  At the end of class, Sister Carmila closed her lesson with a conciliatory tone. "Don't forget that knowledge and faith are powerful weapons, but so are unity and compassion. Go out into the world with open eyes, but never let fear cloud them."

  The class was plunged into a resounding silence, which was soon broken by the dismissal bell.

  The bell marked the end of the day, and with it, the tension accumulated during the day seemed to dissipate slightly.

  Anais, with her usual energy, took my arm firmly. "Today I'm not accepting excuses, Laira. We're going out for a while. It's just what you need."

  I tried to resist, but her insistence ended up winning me over. With a sigh, I nodded and followed her through the hallways full of students preparing to return home.

  The streets of Rome were alive with their usual bustle. The cool afternoon air caressed my face, and for the first time in days, I felt I could breathe. Anais talked without pause, filling the atmosphere with her characteristic warmth, and little by little, the images and sounds that had invaded my mind began to fade.

  Finally, we arrived at her favorite spot: a small café next to a park. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of leaves rustled by the wind created a peaceful atmosphere. It was a simple place, almost hidden, but it had something special, a calm that enveloped everything.

  "I knew this was the perfect place," said Anais with a triumphant smile as she dropped into one of the tables next to the flowering bushes. "Here, it's impossible not to relax. It's as if time stands still."

  I dropped into the seat across from her, feeling how the tension in my shoulders began to ease. I observed the park, children playing, an old man feeding pigeons, and an unexpected sense of peace enveloped me. Anais ordered for both of us, "Cioccolata calda" and a slice of cake for me that, according to her, were the cure for any ailment. For the first time in days, I silently thanked her for forcing me to go out. Maybe she was right, this was just what I needed: a moment to breathe, to release the weight of the last few hours.

  As I drank the hot coffee, I let the distant conversations and the tranquility of the park fill the silence in my mind. For a while, the chaos faded, and I was just Laira, a girl having coffee with her friend, enjoying an ordinary afternoon.

  The night in Rome was as alive as ever, with warm lights illuminating the cobblestone streets and the cool breeze caressing my face. We walked together, Anais and I, laughing as if the world were a light and simple place. She had that ability, to take me at her pace, making me forget, at least for a moment, everything that weighed on me.

  "See? I told you! This is what you needed," said Anais with a smile I could barely avoid returning.

  She walked a couple of steps ahead of me, with the carefree energy that always characterized her.

  "Yes, you were right," I admitted, feeling a strange relief at saying it. "Really, thank you for insisting. I needed it, more than I imagined."

  She stopped and turned toward me with that satisfied look that always made me roll my eyes. "Ha! I knew something was wrong with you. Come on, Laira, what is it? Tell me. I already know it wasn't just lack of sleep that left you like this."

  Her words took me by surprise, but the worst part was that she was right. She knew, because she always managed to read me better than I could read myself. I tried to search for some excuse, but the way she looked at me, with that mix of curiosity and warmth, made me feel I could trust her.

  "Okay," I said finally, letting out a sigh. "I had a dream... It was very strange. I don't know, I felt as if someone was asking me for help, as if something or someone was speaking to me from a place... distant and suffering. It was so real that I couldn't concentrate all day."

  For a moment, Anais remained silent. Her expression was still soft, but her eyes showed something more, as if she were thinking about what to say. Then she smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Oh, wow! I didn't know your brain had such good taste for dramatic stories. Though I don't blame you, dreams can be weird. Maybe you need less coffee at night."

  I let out a small laugh, not because I found it entirely funny, but because it was typical of Anais to try to take the weight off anything that worried me. I didn't tell her about the phone, or about the voice I heard in the classroom. That was still too... strange, even for me. But at least, telling her part of what I felt was enough to ease some of the weight I was carrying.

  As we continued walking, I realized I felt lighter. Anais was now talking about trivial things, filling the air with her cheerful voice, and I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. For the first time in what seemed like a long time, I felt more like myself, even if only for a while.

  We kept walking through the cobblestone streets, with the night covering us like a cloak. Although the conversation had been light until now, something in Anais's expression changed. I knew her well enough to know that something was circling her mind.

  Finally, I gathered the courage to ask: "Anais... earlier, when we saw Father Sevac... I noticed there was something strange between you two. Is everything okay?"

  She didn't respond immediately. She walked a few more steps in silence, her gaze fixed on the ground as if deciding whether or not she should answer.

  Then, with a sigh, she broke the silence. "I knew you'd notice," she said, with a small bitter laugh, "but it's not something I usually tell."

  "You can trust me," I insisted gently, feeling this was an important moment for both of us.

  Anais stopped and looked at me directly, her expression much more serious than I was used to seeing in her. "Okay, I'll tell you."

  "Okay, I'll tell you," she began. "Father Sevac... he found me when I was abandoned. I was just a child, I had no one. For a time, he was like a father to me. He took care of me, protected me, made me believe that everything would be okay."

  As she spoke, her voice broke slightly, but she maintained her composure. "But then... everything changed. One day he left me at the church, so the sisters would take care of me. He told me it was best for me, that he had responsibilities to fulfill. And I understood, or at least, I tried to. But after that, he barely visited me. He only passed by the church to go to the library, as if I weren't there."

  I could see the pain in her eyes as she continued. "I don't know if I ever hated him, but it did hurt. I felt he had abandoned me, just when I was starting to believe I wasn't alone. Since then, every time we meet, it feels strange. Sometimes I want to approach him again. But... I can't. Something inside me won't let me."

  My words caught in my throat. I didn't know what to say. The always cheerful Anais, the friend who seemed unbreakable, was now before me, sharing a pain I had never imagined. All I could do was put my hand on her arm, a small gesture, but sincere.

  "You don't have to carry that alone," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper. "I'm here, for whatever you need."

  She smiled at me, though there was sadness in her eyes. "Thank you, Laira. I knew I could tell you.

  But please, don't tell anyone, okay?"

  "Of course not," I replied without hesitation. "This stays between us."

  I hope you enjoy this chapter!

  Next transmissions: Tuesday and Friday.