It grew dark in the cabin, then even darker. They must have turned off the lights, I thought, even though I could see that the lights were functioning the same way as before. There was light, yet it was dark, like the essence of light had been sucked away. Heaviness settled on my chest, a pressure, as if I’d been pulled upwards with incredible speed.

The stewardesses strolled among the passengers. The captain announced something in that weird Arabic dialect (which was odd because he otherwise spoke English), his voice distorted by the speakers. The stewardesses repeated the captain’s words; not to the passengers, but to themselves, muttering under their breath. Droplets of perspiration beaded on their temples, and sweat stains permeated their uniforms as well. The cabin was filled with the smell of fear. The stewardesses tried to hold on to the seats, but one by one they all lay down on the floor, as if taking a much needed power nap. Some of them started crying.

Two elderly tourists were sitting behind me. The man wore a white hat and tinted glasses, with a silk scarf around his neck. His wife, or a woman I assumed to be his wife, wore a necklace of tiny pearls that reminded me of a line of brilliant white teeth. Her face was soft and wrinkly, with too much makeup applied. She had a constant idiotic smile that showed off her flawless teeth. They were speaking in German, although judging by their accent, I was sure they weren’t from Germany.

‘Blood!’ said the man softly. ‘He wants blood. He won’t let us cross until he’s had his fill!’

The woman nodded dejectedly.

‘My uncle Rolf made a blood pact, back during the war,’ she said, carefully shaping each word like individual clay figures. ‘He offered his great-grandson’s life in exchange for his own. When little Henrik was born in the spring, I told Eliza right away that she’d better give birth to another one quickly because little Henrik is as good as gone.’

The man smacked his lips. ‘That could not happen in our family,’ he said. ‘A man should take responsibility before the Faceless Lords.’

‘But to them, the flesh of innocents is so much sweeter, and innocence is nothing but ignorance,’ the woman chuckled.

‘Edith, you are living proof that nobody on this Earth is innocent. Least of all the ignorant.’

At this point I was asleep for sure, I must have been. This was only a nightmare.

The hairs on my arm stood on end. The drinks rolled around in my stomach, but not from nausea. The direction of gravity had changed. I felt its force on my back and neck, it pressed me back into the seat. My muscles went numb, I could barely breathe.