“A long, long time ago, at the beginning of everything and at the farthest reaches of the earth, there was a door. A locked door. Μen and women came from far and wide holding keys in their hands to open the door. But the door could not be opened, no matter what.” Whoever thought that the dead of the first book had died, was proven wrong on New Year’s eve, when all the prodigals returned. Worn out in their lifetime by the elements of nature and by passions and love affairs that were way too much for the light of day, they dusted the dirt off their collars and returned triumphantly to dine, just like old times, with the living. Only for one night, which is a universe, and with the drama of human existence at its peak, until dawn arrives, that sacred moment when they grow quiet and retreat back into darkness, as they ought. All of this, under the unblinking, deeply shadowed gaze of Lefka who will later choose as her true pseudonym the strange name Ramanthis Erevous. As the young doe transforms by degrees to a woman, she remains enigmatic and devoted to the worshipful expenditure of her pen. Destined, also, to talk to the souls like the leaves speak when the wind brushes them, safeguarding and simultaneously imparting unspeakable secrets.