The elevator stopped without a jolt and without warning.

  The metal doors opened softly and almost silently, as though the mechanism had long since grown accustomed to working on its own, without needing to draw attention to itself.

  An stood motionless inside the cabin for a moment, not daring to step out.

  He didn’t know where he had been brought.

  He didn’t know what task might be hidden behind this stop.

  He wasn’t even certain there was a task at all.

  Yet the doubt vanished almost immediately when he raised his eyes and saw the space before him.

  An enormous factory hall stretched out ahead.

  Old brick walls rose to an incredible height. Huge windows, reaching almost to the ceiling, flooded the hall with cold daylight. Dust drifted slowly through the air like tiny particles of time caught between past and present.

  An stepped forward.

  Metal shavings crunched under his boots.

  He recognized the pce at once.

  This was the workshop of the factory where his father had once worked.

  Long iron tables stood here.

  Old workbenches with tabletops worn by time.

  Massive machines whose metal bodies were coated with yers of oil and fine metallic dust.

  Tools y everywhere.

  Wrenches.Heavy hammers.Drill bits of every size.Rusty vises.Rags soaked with grease.

  Workers moved between the tables.

  Their clothes were dirty and worn. Turners and machinists drifted slowly between the machines as if continuing an endless shift. Their movements were calm, habitual, and slightly weary.

  Engines hummed somewhere.

  Shafts rotated somewhere.

  A heavy machine carriage moved with a metallic groan.

  But then An noticed something strange.

  He wasn’t hearing every sound.

  Some noises seemed to drop out of the background.

  One machine moved silently even though it should have been roaring.

  Another hummed for far too long without changing rhythm.

  Sometimes a sound vanished abruptly—as though someone had cut it with scissors.

  It reminded him of an old magnetic tape that had been pyed too many times.

  An walked slowly between the tables.

  He felt good here.

  He had often visited this pce as a child.

  He remembered the smell of machine oil.The cold touch of metal parts.The way the workers had let him sit on empty crates and watch them work.

  Memories rolled in one after another.

  He almost forgot about the Forge.

  Almost forgot about swords and demons.

  And that was when he saw his father.

  His father walked between the machines.

  He looked young.

  He wore ordinary work clothes. A worn leather cap rested on his head.

  An remembered that cap immediately.

  All the factory truck drivers used to wear them.

  His father walked past him as if he didn’t notice him.

  His blue eyes were dull.

  Sleepy.

  As if he were walking in his sleep.

  He said something.

  But An heard only fragments.

  The words broke apart.

  “…documents…”“…ter…”“…shift…”

  An followed him.

  And then he saw the dog.

  A white mongrel ran around his father.

  Dirty. Scruffy.

  Its tail wagged energetically.

  It ran ahead, then came back again.

  Its eyes were bright.

  Alive.

  An tried to remember its name.

  The name was close.

  Right at the edge of memory.

  But then he heard a sound.

  It was extremely thin.

  Extremely unpleasant.

  Like someone drilling through thick gss with an impossibly fine bit.

  The sound came from somewhere at the edge of hearing.

  An turned.

  When he looked forward again, his father and the dog were gone.

  He stopped.

  And suddenly noticed another man.

  A bald little fellow sat on an iron stool.

  His enormous eyes seemed far too rge for his small face.

  He wore an old leather cap too.

  He was eating cherries.

  He spat the pits onto the floor.

  But nothing appeared on the floor.

  The little man held out a handful of cherries to An.

  His lips moved.

  He was saying something.

  And then An remembered.

  This man had died long ago.

  He had drowned while running from the sheriff.

  And his cherries had always been terribly sour.

  An turned away.

  When he looked back again, most of the workers had vanished.

  The factory hall was becoming empty.

  He turned behind him.

  The little man had disappeared too.

  Now the sound was louder.

  The thin drilling shriek cut directly into his head.

  An felt fear.

  The fear wasn’t only his.

  It seemed to hang in the air.

  Suddenly a door creaked loudly somewhere.

  The sound was sharp and painful.

  An flinched.

  He walked toward it.

  In the middle of the hall stood a staircase leading downward.

  The shriek came from there.

  He began to descend.

  Below was a small room.

  It looked like a workshop.

  In the center stood an iron window frame.

  Inside the frame was gss.

  The thin sound came from it.

  An approached.

  He almost touched the gss with his hand.

  And suddenly he understood.

  It wasn’t gss.

  It was a person.

  A human soul had been stretched into a transparent surface.

  It was screaming.

  The scream became that piercing shriek.

  An froze.

  He wanted to help.

  And at that moment an astonishing calm arose inside him.

  The room changed.

  Two figures appeared.

  The first was a gigantic satyr.

  He was taller than a man.

  His body was covered with thick blue-violet fur.

  Enormous horns grew from his head.

  But gray tumors covered his body.

  Large lumps the size of fists.

  Some even grew from his skull.

  Beside him stood a woman.

  Once she had been beautiful.

  Now her skin had turned gray-green.

  Her legs trembled.

  Her face slowly became a skull.

  An understood.

  She was one of the clerks.

  The satyr spoke.

  And An recognized his voice.

  It was the same clerk who had jumped into the vortex near the kiosk.

  “I used to take only a little,” he said loudly. “I was afraid. Afraid of my superiors. Afraid of losing my miserable position.”

  He ughed.

  “Now I’m afraid of nothing.”

  He pointed at the clerk.

  “Even her—I took her. Now I am the master.”

  The clerk began ughing.

  Her body shook.

  The ughter was terrifying.

  The satyr continued, louder and louder.

  “I stretched this soul. Pulled it tight like gss. You can draw power from it.”

  He looked at An.

  “And now you’ve appeared.”

  The soul’s scream grew even louder.

  An slowly drew his sword.

  He swung.

  A bde of stars fred in the air.

  The satyr ughed.

  In the next instant, An cut off his head with a single strike.

  The body colpsed to the floor.

  The clerk screamed and fell beside it.

  With a second blow, An shattered the iron frame.

  The scream vanished instantly.

  The soul flew free.

  An returned to the factory hall above.

  Now the workshop was flooded with bright sunlight.

  Workers walked between the machines again.

  But they were translucent.

  He saw his father.

  His father walked between the tables.

  And gradually dissolved in the sunlight.

  The tension disappeared.

  An found the stairs upward.

  He climbed them.

  Above was a meadow.

  Tall, stiff grass swayed in the wind.

  The sky had grown overcast.

  An took the folded sheet of paper from his pocket.

  He unfolded it.

  One word was written on the page.

  **Beetle.**

  And then he remembered.

  That had been the dog’s name.

  He folded the paper again.

  And walked on.

  After some time he lifted his gaze.

  Before him stood the man in the white robe.