Chapter 38
The Silver Skin – The Witch's Land
Deception. Deception is what turns your skin into a pale, hollow color when you think you've achieved what you wanted, when you believe you've succeeded just because you've obtained wealth. Do you think it will pull you out of the void? Do you think it will free you from loneliness? Do you think it will end your daily state of waiting, your yearning for death? Will it buy you happiness and friends? No. Will you finally find someone who understands you if you have money? Will you escape the cycle of being the stranger? No, gentlemen. To me, money is the most absurd and meaningless thing in the universe. It's just a temporary dopamine hit, like everything else in our world—but this is a temporary dopamine hit you can buy with another temporary dopamine hit. The only difference is that its effect lasts longer.
We live in a world of strangers, and this is what Bruno felt when he saw the wealthy mafia leaders and their luxurious, superficial, and trivial way of life. He felt as if he were among aliens, among creatures foreign to him—shallow beings not on the same level as his mind. He didn't care for them. Instead, he chose the path of mystery, the path that ultimately led him here, to the land of strangers, where nightmares become reality, where no one leaves before uncovering their own truth.
Like what happened with Karl and Marcus in previous chapters—they clung to the past, not realizing it had turned into a mirage and vanished. But that wasn't the reason for their deaths. The reason is hard to grasp. To me, they themselves are hard to understand. Humans are complex. Some of us die before ever fully knowing ourselves. But no one leaves this island without knowing everything about themselves, without knowing everything about the vast sea and the infinite universe—the forbidden knowledge.
Despite his flaws, his immorality, and his occasional cruelty, when Bruno sits in the darkness of his room and reflects on what he's lived through—what he's seen in Italy, what he's learned about humans and creatures, about the bloody, sadistic, psychopathic violence he's witnessed or perhaps even crossed the line into himself—what he's learned about gods, about the planet, about the galaxy, about the universe, about the sea itself—in the midst of the sorrow-filled darkness of that famous hotel, his inner voice screams at him, louder than ever, and he says to himself:
*"I don't think the devil in me..."*
Let's leave the hollow skin and Bruno aside for a moment and talk a little about the witch. To me, the writer of this strange tale, the witch is the most beautiful thing in the universe. The ravens surrounding her, her massive cauldron, her beauty, her seduction, her tyranny, her psychopathy, her magical stars, her gothic soul, her intelligence—the ravens that circle her, her old broom in our modern world. The witch is something that went extinct years ago, sadly—just like the gunslinger, just like the pirate. But here's my recurring question: In your opinion, gentlemen, who is the witch in our modern era?
Is it the temptations and lust that have become so easily accessible? Is it the stimulants, the drugs, the money? Or is it the governments that make life harder for you, preventing you from succeeding? Is it the gods of success who choose who thrives and who fails? Or is it beauty—that elusive spirit you saw only once in your life, the one you dream of every night when you sleep, the one that comes to you in nightmares? And how terrible nightmares are, when you dream of something you know you'll never reach. You wander through life searching for her, believing she is the end of your journey, your treasure. But would it make you happy if the witch were as intelligent and psychopathic as you? Or would she seduce you, make you use your intelligence and psychopathy to harm the innocent?
I believe the witch embodies love—or perhaps she embodies sorrow. What I know for certain is that the witch is real. She stands, floating before a mural made of skin, painted with demonic stars, an old broom, a massive cauldron, nightmares, a small colorful bottle in the hues of the beautiful cosmos, a hanger, and of course, a raven—along with many magical circles. She stands before this mural, holding a sun in her right hand and a sun in her left, while rain pours down upon her.
The chapter begins with Bruno, who finds himself thrown into the witches' forest, filled with ravens, trees, heavy rain, and a gothic, melancholic atmosphere. He walks through this gothic forest, full of poisonous trees, giant insects, spiders, and scorpions that reach two meters in length, through the pitch-black darkness illuminated only by the red moonlight and the stars—until something stops him in his tracks.
Before him stood a statue of the pirate Blackbeard, with his long beard partially aflame and his sharp gaze, holding his sword to the sky with pride—proof that he was never subordinate to any government, force, or religion. He was free, without chains or restraints. He was a pirate.
Beneath an enormous statue of a witch, Bruno couldn't fully grasp her beauty from the sculpture alone—just those eyes that glowed in shifting colors, some of which humans shouldn't be able to see. But Bruno saw them. He saw colors outside of time. The eyes of her statue radiated, and she had slightly elongated ears, as if she were half-elf.
Beyond the Dark Forests and the Crumbling Castle
Bruno noticed three witches walking in the distance. He ran, trying to understand who these women were and what was happening here—but when the twilight glow flickered in the sky, they vanished into the mist that filled the Witch's Forest.
Bruno walked through the fog, past hollow trees, scorched grass, and utter darkness, until he found himself before a cracked bridge leading to a tall black tower, surrounded by withered trees. Next to the bridge was a sign written in a strange language, scrawled in dark red blood:
"Ҩҽɾҽ ʅιҽʂ τԋҽ Ƭҽɱρʅҽ σϝ Aɾƙαɳτԋα"
(*"Here lies the Temple of Arkanthea"*)
Beyond the twilight, Bruno witnessed a witch flying on a broom—it was Old Kazia. She grabbed Bruno, carried him away from the tower, and threw him into the heart of the forest. There, the ground twisted, morphing into a black hole filled with green specters. Kazia hurled Bruno into the abyss, saying:
"The boy has an appointment with his mother.
And so, Bruno fell into the void. Fall Into Nowhere
As he plummeted through emptiness, Bruno suddenly crashed onto a solid surface—as if Hell itself had decided to drop him into another nightmare. Slowly lifting his head, he realized he was on a ship. But this was no ordinary vessel.
The sea around him was black as ink, its waters thick, almost alive—a sentient entity watching from the depths. The sky above was not a sky at all, but a distorted void, riddled with pulsing black holes like dying hearts.
The ship itself seemed built in a forgotten era—its wood ancient and rotting, carved with strange engravings that *moved* when he looked away, as if fleeing his gaze. The sails were tattered, swaying like rotting corpses waving to some distant unknown. The anchors were massive hooks, embedded deep into the sea, as if anchoring the ship in a realm where it did not belong.
Then, he heard it—the sound of bones clicking into place, moans coming from every direction, shadows that were not shadows shifting around him. He turned and saw them—the crew.
They were not men. They were not even alive.
They were skeletons clad in tattered pirate garb, their hollow eye sockets emitting faint glows like dying suns in forgotten galaxies. They advanced toward him slowly, their steps creaking as if groaning under the weight of time itself.
One of them seized him—their captain.The Flying Dutchman himself.