But first, you and I must come to an agreement. We had an agreement before. We made a deal. Tell me, what do you want?" "I want you to die," said Miro. Ekatarina stared at him. Then she began to laugh. "No more than I want you to die. If that were all, then nothing would happen. It is not only your physical flesh that is to die. You must know that. But you forget so easily. All we are, all we will be, dies with you. Everything you are dies with you. The soul that inhabits this body would have died long ago. A spirit such as yours, it is an offense to the angels. It is an offense to what is. It is the only possible fate for you." She gestured at her hand. "Come. Give me your promise, and I will give you the gift of life. Give me the gift of death, and I will give you this world and all its pleasures." Miro felt a hot fire burning his heart. His eyes blurred, his voice faltered. "I won't be your puppet," he managed to say. "The spirits—I am not one of them. I'm not the same as them. They're dead. I'm still alive." "You're one of the dead, you fool! And once you're dead, that's all you'll ever be, one of the dead. A spirit. Do you think they've never faced the same temptation? Never? Look at me. I will give you what you want, and you can join them. Do you think that will make any difference to them, the ones who are still in torment?" "I'm not one of them! I'm me! I'm still alive! All of them are dead. Even the dead are still alive. We keep moving. We grow, we become. We have children. We love one another. We help one another. We—" "So you claim. But listen to me, fool! You'll never see one of them again. They are all dead. When they fell, they fell so far they do not even exist any longer. They are in a universe that is closed to you. Everything has been stripped away. There's nothing left but darkness, emptiness, endless cold. There's no hope in it, no redemption. That is all there ever was, in every world and every time. You know that now. They are still alive. That is what you should have learned. To love one another. To love, and to have lived. But you can't do it anymore. You've lost that. The spirits have taken that from you. There's no one left in the world who wants to love or be loved. And that is why you should give me what I ask." "I can't," whispered Miro. "I can't." Ekatarina reached up and caressed his cheek. "Just look at you. You are so frail, so weak, so worn. It has been so long since you truly laughed. Why do you think that is? It is the price you pay for all your love and caring. There is nothing left of you. All is stripped away. You have to give up everything. If you must be alive, then you must give up loving. You must give up the world. The flesh must be lost. It is the only way. If you don't give up the world, then you will simply continue to linger in it, dead but not forgotten. Remember, you are not entirely what you are. Nothing is what it seems. Even the dead are not dead. So do not resist. Your time has come." "No," cried Miro. Ekatarina sighed. "I understand how you feel. How can you blame me? Every man wants to be remembered." She moved closer to Miro. "I remember you now." Her fingers touched his mouth. "And this..." She lightly brushed his lips. "I can no longer have. I am dying. It is the price of being what I am." Her eyes glittered at him. "Do you think I could die now, knowing that you might still be alive? Knowing I could look into the eyes of my son and find you there?" "No," said Miro, drawing back. "Oh, I would find you there. In no time. That is the way it is. The spirits have done their work. You think you are a child. You think you are me. Do you still think so? I remember you. Perhaps I was never like you at all. But I remember you. And even now, when I'm dying, I love you more. There is no love but love. There is no hope but hope." "We're all the same," said Miro. "We all keep moving. There's nothing to choose from. This is it. There's no choice." "Ah, and here's my son!" Ekatarina cried. "Such a child. Such a beautiful young man! I have seen him many times." She turned to Miro. "Yes. I am dying. But when I do, I will still be a beautiful woman. There is something I have to tell you, my son. I must tell you what it is I know, and what I am going to do. And you must promise me something." Miro looked into her eyes. "What?" "You must promise me that you will make my son suffer as I have suffered. He must feel the pain that I felt. He must experience the horror that I experienced." "What are you saying?" Miro cried out. "You can't ask that of me!" "Why not? Aren't I worth anything? He has never loved. He is a nothing. Do you think he would not wish to know love? And a woman who can make him die, to die for you—that's a rare beauty, isn't it? Yes, that's what we will do. We will share this one thing, and more. You don't know everything." Miro sat up. "What do you mean?" "You have never given your mother a child. Your mother has given you one." "What are you talking about? What do you know about this?" "You're right to be afraid. But there is no one to see, no one to hear. There's only you and me, you idiot. And this is how it will be." She gestured, and Miro saw the black robes of the spirit come and spread around her. "You have never had a woman. And now you can't do without one. You are a coward, to want to force an unwilling woman to love you, to give you a child that she doesn't want. It isn't necessary, it isn't fair. Not if you want to stay a spirit, to avoid the pain of that. You don't deserve it." "You've known about this. You've always known," said Miro. "Yes, for a long time. It is a secret. Do you know what happens to a woman when she has a child by you? I don't know everything, but I know that the spirits can take the child from her, and she becomes free again. And if she gives birth, there is no child. But you have never wanted a child. She must give up the child to save her. Your mother knew. She knew this would happen. Your mother wished to die. She begged me to give her the poison." "No," whispered Miro. "No, this can't be." "Listen to me!" said Ekatarina. "I have been waiting for this. You have never wanted a woman. I knew it. And now it has happened. You must allow it. You don't want this. She will do what is necessary, because she wants to, because she wants to, because she has to. But you must make her, otherwise you'll suffer with her. If you're the one, then you suffer. And she will be free again, to begin again. And that's all she ever wanted, to be free. She never loved you, because she never knew. She never really loved you, ever. And I did." Miro stared at her in horror. "I loved you all the time," said Ekatarina. "She never did. And I will love you, when you remember me. You're going to see me again, my son, just as I have seen you. You'll see me, and you will suffer. And you will love me. You will take me back to your house. And there you will take the woman and hold her down, and make her do it, if you must, or she will suffer. And you will watch her die. And you will remember. You will be there, my son, and you will see me die, in the manner that I must, that she must, and you will love me." "No!" said Miro. "I won't allow it. You can't do this to me." Ekatarina smiled. "You can't? Who is to say I can't?" Miro turned his head away. Ekatarina's hand moved across the mattress and touched Miro's shoulder. "I don't expect you to do this for me. You never have, in