Marc opened his eyes much later. He stood there watching the sky for a good ten minutes.
"Where am I this time?"
Marc noticed he was wet before he realized it was snowing. Fine flakes were filling the sky.
"Oh no."
As far as he was concerned, the only place it snowed in this bizarre world was on the Man in Black's mountain. But to his great relief, he saw when he stood up that he wasn't on the mountain. The snow was falling so softly on the ground that he wondered if it was real.
Marc looked around. He couldn't recognize this place. He didn't even know if he was in his world or not. No one seemed to be around. Ruined buildings served as decorations. On closer inspection, Marc realized it was a castle. He got up to look for answers.
The ground was covered with a thin layer of snow no thicker than two sheets of paper.
"Why does this place look like it's been abandoned for ages?"
Marc could see nothing but snow and the remains of the ruined castle. He circled the mansion and discovered a large white plain behind the ruins. It stretched on forever, with no sun to complete its horizon. On the contrary, the sun seemed to be absent. The sky was completely white.
Marc looked to the other side, but there was still nothing.
"I'm clearly not at home."
Marc then decided to visit the ruins. As he had expected, finding the gate was a real ordeal. The castle had seemed immense in its heyday, but it was now only twice Marc's size. Even so, he found the door behind a pile of rubble. Made of heavy wood with iron remnants on the handle, it didn't give way easily under Marc's force.
However, with a great deal of effort, he managed to open it. The whole house shook under the effect of the tremor. Marc discovered a ruined interior too. Some of the furniture was still in place, if he could call it that. The spiders had taken up residence in all but one corner of the ceiling, which had collapsed and let in the snow.
"It's not very clean in here. Oh..."
Despite the state of the room, Marc could make out behind a tattered wall a bookcase containing a book. Dodging the debris, he reached into one of the holes in the wall and grabbed the only book still there.
"Well, you my lad, are lucky I was passing by. Otherwise, we wouldn't have found you until centuries later."
The book was thick but light. Dust had completely covered it. Marc wiped it with the sleeve of his sweater and discovered the novel's author.
"Lavoi...si."
Once again, the author he'd enjoyed so much in his own world, the author he'd also discovered in the other world, was also the author of the only book on that little shelf in that ruined castle. Marc couldn't believe it. Who was Lavoisi really?
Marc turned the first page of the book.
"I don't know if anyone will read this book. The world is filled with so much mystery that I could get drunk. Shame on me for trying to understand it. Shame on me for wanting to live. I don't know if anyone will ever find this book. I hope the wise Iomir still lives. The journey will be long and things will repeat themselves. If there's one thing I should say for you, look in the bottom drawer."
"The bottom drawer? There's nothing in that room. The only potential cupboard with a drawer is that one over there."
A wooden cabinet was stuck at the back of the room. Marc approached it. It had only three drawers, two of which were already gone. He opened the third, removing the cobwebs on top. A key was inside.
"Classic."
Marc took the key in hand. It was made of bronze. Its symbols reminded Marc of the symbols on the cathedral door. Marc immediately thought of the man in black, then forgot. He then picked up the book to read the rest.
"If you took the key, go to the stairs. I'll leave you only a clue to move on. Go where the sun goes and go against the light. Count the number of roses in the field, don't look at the death of the lost bird. Don't look at your wings, you who are lost."
Marc had no idea what he was saying. He wondered if it wasn't just the story of the book he was beginning to read. Nevertheless, he read on, trying to understand what the words really meant.
"It was the story of a prince under the sway of his queen. She wanted a world of peace with the one she loved. The prince didn't mind, doing whatever his sweetheart wanted. Yet under the moonlight, tears fell in the kingdom of dreams."
"It's just a fantasy book. I wonder if I should really believe this guy. Maybe he's right? After all, I found the key in the drawer. Could he have been here before? What did the clue mean? Who was it really for?"
If there was one thing Marc didn't like, it was asking himself too many questions revolving around an irresolvable mystery. He loved mystery, but hated not finding the answers right away. For this one he had to embark on a long investigation.
"Couldn't you have given clearer details, Lavoisi?"
One thing was certain, Lavoisi had been here before. He knew quite a bit about this world.
"Good. Now, how do I get home?"
Marc looked around. The ruined castle didn't really offer any possibility of portals to another world. He didn't even know how he got in. In the room, there were three doors, all identical.
"He told me to go to the staircase. There's got to be one behind one of these doors, or I'm a goner."
Marc headed for the door opposite the entrance door. As he approached, he noticed the more elaborate details of this one. Roots seemed to emerge from all sides of the door, eventually winding around the middle, leaving a circle containing someone's face. The person appeared to be a neutral-looking woman. Her face was in profile and her long hair appeared curly. Marc said she was rather pretty, but looked unhappy.
Marc slowly held out his hand. Deep down, he had no idea what he was getting into. The handle creaked and he gradually began to push the door open. The lady's face lit up and the roots wrapped around it took on new colors. He entered cautiously in view of the spectacle he had just witnessed.
The room lit up in turn, as if the light from the door was shining through it too. There wasn't much in the way of order when he arrived, but everything fell back into place with the ship of light. There was a large table in the middle of the room. It was filled with plates and looked as if it had been laid out for a feast. But the food was rotten, and worms and flies were eating the wood of the table cause they had eaten everything edible. However, with the ship of light, the chairs fell back into place, the food returned and seemed edible again, and the worms and flies disappeared as if they'd never been there.
The spectacle was quite astonishing. Marc also noticed that some paintings had fallen down but had been put back in their place. The face on them was still that of the lady on the door. At the end of the table, a chair that looked more like a throne dominated the entire room. Its red velvet and gold trim were reminiscent of royalty.
Marc suspected that this castle must once have belonged to a powerful man or woman.
"Maybe the one from history? But why would it have ended so badly?"
Marc walked around the room. He contemplated the paintings one by one. The woman turned her face a little more in each painting. Above the throne sat a painting of the woman from the front. An extremely enchanting face. So pretty that Marc remained glued to it for a good five minutes. The fact that her hair was crossed on either side of her face made the scene even more magnificent.
When he came to, Marc looked at his eyes. Despite the vessel of light that seemed to be putting everything back into place, his face remained closed. The first thing pointed it out was her eyes. Whether from the front or in profile, her eyes revealed no emotion.
"No, on the contrary, they seem to show a slight anger."
An anger he couldn't understand.
After looking around the room, Marc restrained himself from sitting down on the red seat. But after a minute's thought, he gave in to temptation and ended up sitting on it. However, as he approached the seat's feet, he noticed blood dripping from the velvet. A huge puddle remained under the seat. Marc took a step back.
"What a horror. What does it mean?"
The room soon filled with blood and Marc's shoes were now red.
"I've got to get out of here."
Marc ran to the door, splashing more and more blood. He grabbed the handle but the door refused to open. He banged on it again and again, but nothing happened.
"Open up."
Despite Marc's cries, the door didn't give way. He felt trapped as blood reached his knees.
"You've got to be kidding me. This is how it ends."
The blood that kept rising had now reached his chest. Marc cast the most desperate glance at the portrait above the red seat. He wanted to see if he'd been betrayed by this lady who seemed to have been betrayed too. Yet, although his face hadn't changed, tears of blood flowed from hes eyes making her look even angrier.
"I see."
Marc looked away from the woman who seemed to have suffered more than he had. Blood rushed past his mouth, then his nose. He couldn't breathe and let himself sink slowly. He gradually closed his eyes as he lost consciousness. With one last look, he thought he caught sight of the woman standing there, staring out of the window with the same look as in the painting. She slowly opened her mouth...
"The last night is often the most beautiful."
Marc didn't understand the meaning of her words...