The downpour intensifies with every passing second, drumming against the streets with relentless fury. Davit quickens his pace, his steps splashing through the rising water as the road transforms into a raging current. He scarcely believes such a deluge could strike Thalas in the height of summer-so sudden, so violent. Already drenched to the bone, he barely registers the discomfort. His mind is fixed on one thing. Her. No matter the chaos, he must reach her.

  As he draws near, he watches, heart lurching, as she unknowingly steps onto a submerged ledge. The treacherous water conceals the drop, and before she realizes her mistake, her foot slips. In a breathless instant, Davit lunges forward, arms catching her just as she begins to fall.

  For that fleeting moment, as his hands press against her slender waist, time stretches. An eternity compressed into a single heartbeat.

  But the storm does not yield to sentiment. The rain pounds harder, thickening into a relentless cascade. The girl steadies herself, turning to him with wide eyes. "Thank you," she murmurs, breathless.

  Davit helps her regain her footing, his voice urgent. "There's shelter nearby," he gestures toward a house two hundred meters away.

  She shakes her head, refusing. "Thank you, but…"

  She never finishes.

  In a split second, Davit sees it-a powerful surge of water roaring toward them, an unstoppable force tearing through the street like an enraged beast. Without thinking, he wraps his arms around her and braces for impact.

  The flood crashes into them, wrenching them off their feet. Davit slams into the ground, the impact rattling his bones as the raging current hurls them downstream. He clings to the girl with all his strength, as he fights to keep her above the water. He thrashes, struggling to swim against the merciless tide, but the current is too strong.

  Then, he realizes with a sickening dread-the girl is motionless.

  Davit tightens his hold, twisting his body to shield her from the debris surging past them. He takes hit after hit-sharp edges, unseen obstacles, the unrelenting force of the water battering his body. His breath grows ragged, his strength waning. Still, he does not let go.

  Then, as if by some cruel design, the flood hurls them against a solid structure. Pain explodes across his back as he collides with an unyielding wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. For a moment, his vision darkens at the edges.

  Gritting his teeth, Davit forces himself upright, feeling along the surface of the wall until his fingers brush against something-a door. A surge of hope ignites within him. He shifts the girl's weight, pulling her close with one arm while the other pounds against the wood with every ounce of strength he has left.

  "Open the door!" he shouts, with desperation. "Help! Somebody-open up!"

  Receiving no response, Davit tightens his grip on the girl and, with his free hand, hurls his shoulder against the door. The old wood groans under his assault. Once, twice-on the third impact, the lock gives way, splintering as the door swings open. He stumbles inside, carrying the unconscious girl over the threshold, the eerie hush of the house a stark contrast to the howling storm outside.

  In the dimly lit interior, his gaze sweeps across the space, quickly identifying a doorway leading to an adjacent room. He crosses it in hurried strides, lowering the girl onto the dusty wooden floor. Dropping to his knees, he presses his fingers against the delicate curve of her throat. Her pulse is faint. Davit swiftly lifts her head, tilts it back, and seals his lips over hers, breathing life into her fragile body.

  For an agonizing moment, nothing happens. Then-she convulses. A fit of desperate, rattling coughs wrack her form as water expels from her lungs. She gasps, drawing in a quivering breath. Her eyelids flutter open, her dazed gaze meeting his before exhaustion claims her again, and she drifts back into unconsciousness.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Davit exhales, momentarily relieved. He scans the room, searching for anything that might help. His hands yank open cabinet doors, but the wooden recesses are barren, long abandoned. Desperation mounting, he steps onto the balcony, where an old table stands beneath the storm-darkened sky. On its surface, a kerosene lamp flickers faintly, accompanied by several half-melted candles. The house is deserted, that much is certain-yet beside the lamp, inexplicably, lies a new, unused lighter.

  Davit barely registers the oddity. He snatches the lamp and rushes back inside.

  By its trembling glow, he notices her pallid lips, a chilling shade of blue. Alarmed, he peels away her drenched garments and moves her to an ancient, moth-eaten couch. He drapes a coarse woolen blanket over her fragile form, but the cold lingers. A minute passes, then another-her body remains rigid, trembling violently beneath the covers.

  A decision is made in an instant. Without hesitation, Davit strips off his own soaked clothing and envelops her in his warmth. Slowly, gradually, the violent shudders subside. When he is certain she is resting peacefully, he carefully extricates himself, mindful not to wake her.

  His eyes drift to the discarded clothes strewn across the floor. Frowning, he reaches for them, expecting them to be sodden. But as his fingers graze the fabric, confusion settles over him-each piece is completely dry. He lifts them one by one. Dry every single one.

  A chill creeps up his spine, not from the remnants of the storm but from something else. Something unseen.

  Shaking off the unease, he pulls on his pants, retrieves his phone from his pocket, and attempts to power it on. The screen remains lifeless. He tries again-nothing. After several failed attempts, he exhales sharply, and moves toward the hallway.

  The front door, which he was certain he had shut, now hangs ajar.

  A fresh wave of unease coils in his gut. Davit steps forward, cautiously pushing the door wider.

  Outside, the flood rages with terrifying force, a relentless torrent carving its destructive path through the landscape. He strains to gauge the water’s depth, but the darkness and churning waves obscure any clear view. Yet, something inexplicable catches his attention-despite the storm's fury, not a single raindrop touches the house.

  Davit takes a tentative step forward. Another. He edges closer to the flood’s boundary, peering into its chaotic depths. He extends his hand, inching his fingers toward the surging current.

  The moment his skin grazes the water, an unseen force strikes him with violent intensity, slamming into his chest. He is thrown backward, crashing onto the wooden floor with a force that leaves him breathless.

  And then-a loud commanding voice.

  "Stay away…"

  The voice reverberates through the air, deep and foreboding, carrying a weight that unsettles Davit's very core. He staggers to his feet, his chest aching from the invisible force that had hurled him backward. Undeterred, he inches forward, peering past the threshold once more. The flood surges with unrelenting fury, a violent torrent carving its path through the land. Yet, as his gaze shifts upward, he notices something impossible-the water does not touch the house. It rushes over and around it, as though an unseen barrier shields the structure from nature’s wrath.

  Davit steps back, his mind races, trying to rationalize the inexplicable. Was this a dream?

  Determined to make sense of it, he moves toward the balcony. The structure is wide and open, its aged wooden railing overlooking what must have once been a tranquil garden, now veiled in darkness. A few steps lead down to the tree-filled enclosure below. From this vantage point, the phenomenon becomes even clearer-the house is encased within an invisible mold, a protective cocoon separating it from the churning deluge beyond.

  A hushed whisper escapes his lips. "What kind of sorcery is this?"

  He lowers himself into an old, weatherworn chair on the balcony, he sits in contemplation, staring at the flood that refuses to touch this sanctuary.

  But soon, concern pulls him back inside.

  Under the frail glow of the kerosene lamp, he kneels beside the girl. Her delicate features, bathed in flickering amber light, appear serene, untouched by the night's harrowing ordeal. She sleeps soundly, her breath even and steady, as though oblivious to the nightmare they had narrowly escaped.

  Davit exhales, running a hand through his damp hair, and lowers himself onto the floor. Leaning his back against the couch, he lets his gaze drift across the dimly lit room. That’s when his eyes catch the carpet sprawled beneath him-its intricate, timeworn patterns stir a distant memory.