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woman talked almost continuously, pointing at various things and using her hands to show Arvid what she wanted from her. Sometimes it worked. In most cases it didn’t, but Arvid learned a few simple words.
    Thoke returned in the evening. He told Arvid that he attended a school four days a week, which was located just outside the town and was called Vero-Maghen. Although it was called a school, the description sounded more like a university, and Thoke explained to her that it had been founded by a king from the west centuries ago. Thoke’s field was history.
    On the fourth night, he brought Arvid a calendar. It was a thin, leather-bound book with a blue ribbon. On the cover, Thoke told her, the year three hundred twenty-three was embossed, and it was based on the foundation of Asgard. The year had eighteen months with wondrous names like “Month of Weeping Widows” or “Month of the White River”. Each month was divided into four weeks, which each encompassed seven days. The weekdays were referred to with numbers only—except for the seventh day, which was also known as the day of rest.
    “The calendar is in many ways reminiscent of the calendars of the Light World,” Thoke said. “Centuries ago the transitions between the worlds were still open, and some of our gods have visited the Light World regularly. I don’t know who influenced whom, but the Jördish word for month is derived from the word moon, too, even though there is no moon here.”
    Thoke explained to her that the missing moon was one of the reasons why it was almost always dark in the Shadow World. The axis of the planet pointed more or less in the direction of the sun, so that its southern side was too hot; the northern side, however, was too cold. The one-sided placement of the landmasses forced people to live in an area in between, which was only exposed to sunlight for a short period in summer.
    “The people here don’t really care about such details,” Thoke said. “But there are a few that do research of this kind. When I came here, I wanted to understand why the Shadow World is the way it is. I thought it would interest you, too.”
    “It does,” said Arvid, as she flipped through the pages of the calendar. “What month is it?”
    “The fourteenth,” Thoke replied. He helped her find the corresponding page, as Arvid could read neither the letters nor the numbers. “It’s called ‘Month of the Dying Fire’.”
    “These are very strange names.”
    Thoke shrugged. “I don’t think so. This month gets its name because you normally still can see the last traces of the sun on the horizon around noontime, a fiery, red band. In a few weeks the winter night will begin. Then you won’t be able to see the sun for eight months.”
    The idea was unsettling. Arvid’s sense of time was abundantly confused due to the constant darkness. When she was unable to sleep at night, Falla cooked her tea from strange, reddish leaves.
    “Rustnettle tea,” said Thoke. “It has a strong soothing effect, but you should make sure only to use half a leaf, otherwise it causes a bad stomachache.”

    The days passed, and Arvid quickly learned more new words in Jördish. She could not deny that all the things Thoke told her about the Shadow World made her curious. However, when she lay in bed at night, she often cried. If it was true that time passed about six times faster here, then more than five weeks must have passed in the Light World. The thought of how her mother must be feeling almost broke her heart. And all this because of those cursed gods. Why did they even create the transitions in the first place? The more Arvid thought about it, the more she felt a dull, nagging anger beginning to accumulate along with the numbing layer of pain and grief.
    Falla was still very talkative, and Arvid was amazed at how quickly she learned the new language. Whenever the old woman told her the word for an object, Arvid tried to repeat it. Soon she knew the words for