"Someone is outside!" A noise was heard. A small thud and then footsteps and panting breaths. Christos jumped up like a whirlwind from his armchair. (...). Victoria lifted her head from the book. "Speak!" she said in a low voice. "Is it who I think it is?" Because it happens, sometimes, that we open a book and literally enter the story or it bursts out from its pages to find us. Then it is revealed what we truly thought was a well in the yard, who the woman we knew as great-grandmother is, and, above all, who we ourselves are. A novel, two opposite worlds, a journey: from the expensive suburbs of the modern city to the Black Island of the world of Alastras. Is there a way back? In the past, when Victoria still found interest in children's fairy tales, the mere thought of the wolf lying in Little Red Riding Hood's grandmother's bed was enough to keep her awake all night. And yet, now that a real wolf, and without a nightgown, was pulling her by the sleeve, Victoria showed admirable composure. She neither cried, nor screamed, nor thrashed about. She only dragged her feet step by step on the dry leaves, her heart pounding wildly, seemingly hypnotized by the animal's eyes that burned like glowing coals in the twilight. At first, Christos remained inactive. As if it wasn't his own sister in the beast's teeth but some actress playing in a TV series. This image he saw with his myopic eyes seemed so beyond any logic. However, when Victoria's free hand stretched imploringly towards him, his mind cleared. He jumped up, grabbed it, and tried to pull her back. The wolf growled threateningly and pulled even harder. Christos felt his sister's palm sweating and didn't dare to insist. So, he relaxed his resistance and let himself be led by the animal's intentions. It was taking them towards the little bridge.