Chapter Four: The Moon Above the City
The night was different. The air lay unnaturally still, and the sky was covered in thick black clouds as if they were guarding something. A strange feeling slipped into my chest — a feeling like the wait for an old promise, a promise I couldn't remember when it was broken or with whom.
That night the moon was full. And in the City of Shadows, that alone meant something would be revealed.
I stepped out of the room where the mirror had been smashed and stood in the dark corridor. The walls around me began to breathe as if the city had woken from a long sleep. Breaths came from every direction, making a low echo like the pulse of a giant heart.
I remembered the words of the mysterious man: "When the moon is full above it, you will know who I am… and what you were."
I opened the door leading to the old square. The square was empty except for a stone statue standing in the center — a statue of a faceless man raising his hand to the sky, as if begging for mercy or recognition. Around the statue, strange circles were carved into the ground, intersecting into geometric shapes that made no sense.
I approached cautiously. Each step I took returned to me multiplied, as if someone were walking with me lightly. I looked around but found no one, yet the shadows on the walls moved even though the wind had stopped completely.
At the base of the statue, there was a metal plaque covered in rust. I wiped it with my hand and faint words appeared: "When the mask is lifted, no one will remain as they first were."
I couldn't fully understand its meaning, but a strange sensation swept over me — a mixture of nostalgia and fear. It felt as though that sentence had been written for me long ago.
Suddenly the clouds in the sky split, and the moon emerged full and brilliant, like an eye watching from above. At that moment the statue began to tremble. I heard the crack of stone splitting, then a faint light erupted from within it and traced the circular lines carved around it across the ground.
The earth began to glow beneath my feet, and the circle closed around me. I tried to step out, but my feet would not move, as if something invisible held me in place.
Then a multitude of whispers burst from the statue, voices intertwined, as though hundreds were speaking at once: "He who must not return has returned…" "Memory cannot be buried forever…" "Look at him… he has not changed…"
I raised my head; the light around me intensified until it almost blinded me. From its center, that mysterious man reappeared, but he was not as he had been. His cloak now flowed as if made of living shadows, and his face was no longer completely covered.
He walked toward me slowly, every step sending a shiver through the ground. He spoke in a deep voice that pierced the silence: "It is time, you who have forgotten. The city did not call you to punish you… but to remind you of what you are."
I tried to steady my gaze on him and said, "Me? Who am I? And why all this?"
He smiled strangely and said, "You are one of those who made this city."
I froze. His words struck coldly into my mind. "Made it?! That's impossible!"
He came closer until his face was directly before mine. In his eyes I saw rapidly shifting scenes — faces, buildings, maps, fires, a sky burning with strange light. Then he said, "Decades ago there were seven people. They met to create a place that hides the unforgivable… a city that keeps the secrets that must not be revealed. You were one of them, you who lit the first spark."
The words trembled inside me, and memories began to return in rolling waves. I saw myself in a dark room, surrounded by five men and a woman. On the table lay a large map; at its center a black circle around which we wrote: "City of Shadows — that the secrets remain safe."
I remember shouting at them then: "No one can bear this! It's not a city but a curse!" Yet I helped build it with them despite that.
The city was not built of stone alone… but of the souls we tried to forget.
When the scene ended I was back in the present, the mysterious man standing silently before me. I stammered, "If we created this city, then why am I here? Why have I returned?"
He answered, "Because you were the only one who tried to destroy it. And the city does not forget those who tried to kill it."
The wind began to whirl violently around us, and the ground shook fiercely. The statue behind me started to melt as if it were wax, and the circles on the ground flamed a dark red.
I shouted against the storm, "And who are you then? What is your role in this?!"
He was silent for a moment, then said in a deadly calm, "I am the shadow you left behind. You were the light… I am what you left in the dark."
My blood froze. I could not speak. I looked at him and saw in his features something exactly like me — my features, but twisted, dark, exhausted.
I screamed, "No… this cannot be!"
He stretched his hand toward me: "Everyone who creates a city of shadows leaves a part of themselves inside it. I was the part you would not face… until now."
The light around us exploded and everything vanished for an instant. When I opened my eyes I found myself standing before the statue again, alone. There was no trace of the man, but his voice kept echoing in my ear like an undying refrain: "The moon revealed only half the truth… the other half awaits you behind the third door."
I looked up at the moon, which was beginning to lose its glow slowly, as if it were fading in shame. I felt the whole city had changed — the walls, the alleys, even the air — as if it now knew what I had seen.
I began to walk back through streets I no longer recognized. Every door I passed opened by itself, as if the city whispered to me: "Continue… there is still much ahead."
When I reached the final square, I saw before me a third door grander than the others. Carved upon it was a full moon bleeding a red light, and beneath the moon a short phrase was inscribed: "Here oblivion ends… and here the truth begins."
I stood before it for a long time. My fingers trembled, but I did not retreat. I placed my hand on the handle, feeling my pulse quicken with every second. Behind this door, I felt, nothing would remain the same.
I whispered to myself, "If I truly helped make this city, then it is time to tear it down."
And I pushed the door.