The frosty bite of the air nipped more viciously than he remembered from past nights, with each exhaled breath materializing in transient, ghostly mists.

  As his pace momentarily faltered, Kateřina drew level with him. The fleeting touch of her fingers against his was a spark of warmth.

  “How much farther?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “We’re nearly there.” He turned and asked Golem to turn invisible. Without hesitation, the creature obeyed.

  Rounding one last bend, they were greeted by a nondescript wooden door, seemingly identical to countless others in the Josefov district. But appearances were deceiving. With a precise sequence of knocks—two quick, one paused, and then another—the entrance groaned open. Behind it, Nikolai’s eyes, first showing relief, shifted rapidly to apprehension when he saw Kateřina.

  “You brought someone else here? Who is she?” Nikolai hissed.

  The taste of salt from his tears lingered on Josef’s lips as he licked them nervously. “She’s a reporter,” he began, only to be cut off by Nikolai’s sharp intake of breath.

  “A reporter?” Nikolai’s voice was a low growl. “In these times? We don’t need any reporters—we’re being hunted! She could jeopardize everything we’ve worked for!”

  Josef locked eyes with Nikolai’s, the weight of recent events pressing heavily on his shoulders. “Nikolai,” he began, his voice tinged with urgency, “Kateřina was there. She witnessed our attempt on Heydrich’s life.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “I had stepped forward, ready to confront Heydrich, and if it weren’t for her urging me to leave, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be . . . gone.” He swallowed hard, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “There’s so much more we need to tell you, but first, you must trust me when I say I trust her.”

  The atmosphere grew dense, the tension palpable. Every sound seemed to magnify—the soft rustling of leaves outside, the distant hum of the city, the ticking that sounded like an old clock.

  Kateřina stepped forward, her heels echoing against the wooden floor. “I know you have every reason to be wary,” she said, her voice calm yet assertive. “But my intentions aren’t to expose or exploit. I’m here to understand, to ally, to support.”

  Nikolai met her gaze, his hardened expression softening a touch. He sighed, brushing back his hair. “Alright, Kateřina, I will let you inside. But you must realize what we’re involved in is bigger than any individual. The fate of our entire people hangs in the balance.”

  “When I saw Josef risking himself today, I had to intervene.” As she spoke, the gentle lamplight in the warehouse illuminated her face, revealing sincerity. “The clues led me here to the heart of Prague’s legends. To Rabbi Loew. And to the golem.” A hush fell upon Nikolai, broken only by Josef’s ragged breathing.

  “Golem?” Nikolai took a step back and shook his head.

  “You must let us in,” Josef said, much to Nikolai’s confusion. Josef hurried to open the tall warehouse door.

  As Josef entered the dimly lit warehouse, a rush of mixed sensations enveloped him. The familiar scent of aged wood and dust was immediately present. Blackout curtains covered the tall windows on the far end, but a hint of silvery moonlight still managed to seep through the edges, casting a muted glow.

  Sensing that Golem had followed them into the space, Josef shut the door behind them.

  “Grandfather always believed in the tales of the golem, of its power to protect our people,” Josef’s voice cracked. “And now, when we need it most, it stands before us.”

  Josef took a deep breath, the cool, damp air of the warehouse filling his lungs as he stepped further inside. The door closed behind him with a soft thud, shutting out the sounds of the city. Almost instantly, the massive form of the golem materialized before him, its imposing presence casting a shadow that seemed to darken the space even more.

  Golem’s silent figure loomed large. An old memory flashed before Josef. The tale passed down through generations—of Rabbi Loew’s creation and of the golem’s legendary power to shield the Jews of Prague.

  Beside him, Nikolai’s eyes widened, clearly taken aback by Golem’s imposing stature. “Is this . . . the golem of the legends?” he whispered, a hint of awe and disbelief in his voice.

  From the shadows of the warehouse, the murmurs of a few other men began to rise, calling Nikolai’s attention away.

  “Nikolai, we need to discuss this,” one of them began urgently.

  “Wait,” he instructed firmly. Turning back to Josef and Kateřina, he said, “Stay here. We’ll be right back.” He then approached the men, leaving Josef and Kateřina with Golem.

  The powerful machine that had torn apart a German spider tank made only the slightest of ticking sounds as it waited before them. Its large, glowing blue orbs for eyes illuminated the otherwise dark warehouse. It all felt like a dream. The only indication of reality was Josef’s legs, which still burned from sprinting through the streets of Prague.

  The golem had always lived in Josef’s dreams. Reddish-brown like the clay on the banks of the Vltava River and like the tiles on roofs that stretched down from Castle Hill, spreading like a king’s royal robe toward the Czech countryside. He’d always pictured the creature’s surface marked with divots where fingers pressed deep and spread out. Whenever he thought of Rabbi Loew, the creator of the mystical creature, Josef had pictured Grandfather Samuel. Tall, thin, with a long, serious face until he smiled. Had Rabbi Loew smiled when he’d stepped back from his towering creation? Josef guessed so. This golem was different than he had imagined. With a clean design and metallic bone structure within. There was science involved, clear principles he had seen in Grandfather’s other works. But part of him wondered if there was a mystical nature he could not see.

  It was a different enemy that hunted them now, but an enemy all the same. The Jews in their city had scurried into every basement and rushed to every attic to hide. Still, it hadn’t stopped the predators from rounding up their prey. Yet instead of devouring them, the Nazis had shipped them off, hiding their deeds behind stone walls and barbed wire. Men, women, and children were rounded up like sheep and transported to their slaughter. How often had Josef begged Grandfather to join their efforts to hide and transport those most valuable?

  Under his breath, Josef shot accusations at Grandfather, questioning why he had secretly built this massive machine instead of directly helping those around him. Even now, the image of his grandfather slumped in a pool of blood haunted him, filling his eyes with tears. Abandoned and cast off like an old coat that someone had outgrown. They needed to retrieve his grandfather’s body to give him a proper burial. But first, they had so much else to do.

  Care for the living before dealing with the dead. The words echoed in Josef’s mind, almost as if his grandfather had whispered the advice. With the Germans intensifying their hunt, Hermina and her children—and many others—stood no chance unless he acted swiftly. It was not enough to hide them in the secret place behind the clock shop. Josef needed to find a way to get them out of Prague.

  But even before that, he had to get Kateřina to safety.

  Grandfather, how can I do this without you? How did Rabbi Loew do it?

  The weight of memories and decisions pressed down on Josef like a millstone, grinding him to a near standstill in the warehouse. Every beam and plank of the building seemed saturated with the history of Josefov, the scent of ancient wood infused with an undertone of machine oil, serving as a backdrop to a tale of heartbreak and hope.

  With each syllable he uttered, Josef felt the heaviness of responsibility bearing down on him, making his shoulders sag. “You need to leave Josefov, Kateřina,” he insisted, voice thick with emotion.

  In the low light, Kateřina’s form seemed like a flickering shadow, but the fire in her eyes was brighter than any flame. “I need to follow this through,” she whispered defiantly.

  He could hear the murmur of old memories, echoing the same determination he now heard in Kateřina’s voice.

  “It’s not just the golem or the Germans.” Josef’s voice trembled like a leaf caught in a tempest. “It’s the treacherous terrain of our every step. Every alleyway, every turn, it’s a potential trap. This isn’t your battle to fight.”

  She moved closer, her presence like a balm to his frayed nerves. “Maybe not at first, but now it is. The pain, the stories of despair, they’ve imprinted on my soul. And alongside that despair, I’ve found hope. Hope with you.”

  Every word she uttered, each step she took toward him, was a tug at the strings of his heart. “Kateřina,” he murmured, frustration and fear dancing in the pit of his stomach. “Every passing moment endangers Hermina and her children. I cannot—will not—endure another loss.”

  “Who is Hermina?”

  His heart clenched, the very mention of the name triggering a flood of memories. “She’s a beacon of strength, enduring more than anyone should have to. When they took her husband, when they tore him from her side, I couldn’t remain idle. So, I hid her and the children away, thinking a week’s sanctuary would be enough before we could find a way out.”

  With trembling hands, Josef pulled a photograph from his pocket and passed it to her. Its edges were worn, but the image remained clear: two angelic girls, their happiness captured in a moment, contrasting the grim world outside. The young boy beside them seemed lost in thought, as though he bore the weight of the world on his tiny shoulders.

  A memory came unbidden, of Josef closing a door on them, effectively locking them in their gilded cage. The sound of the door latching shut echoed in his ears, like the final note of a dirge, condemning Hermina and her children to a prison he’d built with the best of intentions.

  “It’s heartbreaking,” Kateřina whispered, her voice trembling. “These children and Hermina, they deserve better.” She handed back the photograph, their fingers briefly touching, an unspoken commitment passing between them.

  “I had hoped to give them a week’s worth of food, thinking it would buy us some time,” Josef admitted, a hint of frustration in his voice. “But I was only able to gather a day’s worth. My hope was to get them out of the city, away from all of this. But with each passing day, the situation becomes more dire. Those children are just caught in the crossfire.”

  “Then let’s not waste another moment. We’ll do everything we can to protect them and get them out of this hell.”

  “You shouldn’t get involved.”

  Kateřina’s gaze met his, fierce and unyielding. “I need to follow this through,” she repeated, her tone resolute.

  He clenched his jaw, memories of his grandfather flooding back, each more painful than the last. The looming presence of the golem, both an inspiration and a haunting reminder of what was at stake, pushed him further into his resolve. He had to act, and quickly.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, he took Kateřina’s hand, gripping it tightly. “We move fast, and we move now. But remember, Kateřina, it’s Hermina and the children that are our priority.”

  The air in the warehouse grew tense, the conversation between Josef and Kateřina becoming an almost palpable entity. She nodded, gratitude shadowing her gaze.

  Guilt and memories swirled inside Josef like a tempestuous storm, making it hard to breathe. Every glance at Kateřina conjured images of others he had failed—the lifeless gaze of his grandfather, left behind in a desperate escape. The weight of past mistakes threatened to pull him under, but the immediate crisis anchored him to the present. The story of Golem, that mythical protector, felt both a beacon of hope and a distant fantasy. But the very real, very present danger to Hermina and her children demanded his attention.

  From the shadows, Nikolai stepped forward, his eyes, darkened by concern, locked onto Josef. “You both speak too freely,” he warned, his voice edged with a hint of panic. “This place is no fortress. Every word could be an echo that reaches unwanted ears.”

  A chill coursed through Josef, the fear in Nikolai’s voice amplifying his own apprehensions. “And yet standing still, doing nothing, ensures our doom,” Josef replied, his voice resolute despite the tremor he felt deep within.

  Nikolai scanned the dimly lit space, his gaze resting momentarily on the golem. “Sometimes silence is our greatest weapon,” he murmured, making Josef ponder the weight of that statement amidst the gathering storm.

  Nikolai’s eyes darted between Josef and the looming figure of the golem once more. His brow creased in deep thought. “And what about that . . . thing?” His voice betrayed a hint of mistrust.

  Josef felt the weight of the room shift toward him, the onus of explanation squarely on his shoulders. He swallowed hard, memories of legends and tales from his grandfather swirling in his mind. “I don’t want to involve the men,” he began, “especially when I don’t fully understand the golem or the extent of its powers.”

  As the conversation continued, Nikolai excused himself with quickened steps.

  Kateřina moved closer to the golem, her fingers brushing its smooth surface. The two connected almost as though through a magnetic pull.

  Turning to Josef, her eyes shone with determination. “But what if this golem, this protector, was brought to life for this moment? For Hermina, her children, and all the innocent souls trapped in this nightmare?”

  A flood of emotions swirled within him, each one threatening to break the dam of his stoic exterior. Her eyes, filled with conviction and hope, pierced through the walls he’d built around himself. His heart rate quickened, and he felt a warmth spread from his chest, contrasting sharply with the cold, damp air of the warehouse.

  Doubts gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. Could it be? A divine intervention in these desperate times? He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment on his shoulders. His fingers twitched involuntarily, a physical manifestation of the internal battle raging within.

  “You believe it’s . . . a sign from above?” he asked, voice quivering ever so slightly. “That we’re meant to use the golem?” The very idea was both terrifying and exhilarating, and he teetered on the edge of belief.

  Kateřina nodded, her conviction seemingly unwavering. “Throughout history, there have been times when the impossible became possible, when miracles guided the course of events. Maybe this golem, this ancient guardian, has been resurrected for a time like this. We may not fully understand its purpose, but perhaps we’re not meant to. We need to have faith.”

  Josef sighed, torn between hope and skepticism. “Using the golem could be our best chance, or it could be our downfall.”

  “Or it could be the miracle we’ve been waiting for.”

  Josef’s gaze drifted to the oil-painted portrait hanging on the warehouse wall, portraying Rabbi Loew, the legendary protector of the Jews. What steps would he have taken in a time like this? One man had indeed achieved the impossible, defending the Jews of his era. As Josef stood, awestruck by the golem’s silent majesty, he felt an added weight of responsibility. Golem was more than just a machine. It symbolized hope and protection.

  “A bit terrifying, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Terrifying?” She raised a genuinely confused eyebrow at him. “Of course not. He is gentle and kind. From what I recall, you were the one who told him to fight that tank.”

  That’s it. Josef marveled at the golem’s powerful arms, capable of bending metal and breaking stone. It is a dangerous weapon if it can be told what to do.

  “He is going to help people,” Kateřina’s eyes gleamed as she patted a large metallic hand. “Aren’t you?”

  “When did we decide it was a ‘he’?”

  “Look at him!” She waved emphatically. “Broad shoulders, wide chest. It was shaped after a man, so it must be a he.”

  Shaped after a man. Josef pondered the words as he observed Golem’s form. Who had Grandfather based the design on? The pain of loss stung. Based on how Josef still felt when his parents came to mind, he imagined the wound would never heal. Not really.

  The reality was that Grandfather had died making this machine. He deemed it necessary enough to jeopardize his life. That alone was frustrating. Grandfather had always told him Our lives are our greatest gifts. He’d always dissuaded Josef from throwing his own away to fight the Germans. So why, then, had he ignored his teachings to put his own life on the line?

  “What your grandfather did was amazing.” Kateřina gently touched Josef’s arm. “You’re thinking of him, aren’t you? What happened was terrible. But he still lives in you and in his creation.”

  A sorrowful chuckle escaped. “I think you’re right. I think he would have liked you, and the golem sure does.”

  “You need to be friendlier, that’s all.” She gave a playful shove. Golem turned its glowing orbs down at her. “See? He’s a gentle soul. He wants to preserve life.”

  Josef grimaced. He didn’t want to spoil her enthusiasm, but machines could not think or feel. He needed to figure out how exactly the device interpreted commands to execute them.

  Still, something that could sit there silently for hours upon end, with no stimulation, was undoubtedly incapable of independent thought. There had to be some other reason it seemed drawn to the reporter. He scrutinized her. Perhaps it was something about her appearance. Like the color of her clothes or the way she walked? How her hair shimmered in the light? Maybe something about the way her eyes glistened. Or was it the graceful way she moved about?

  “What is it? Am I doing something wrong?” she asked.

  Josef realized he had been staring for a while longer than was polite. He had become distracted. “Oh, no, it’s nothing.”

  She looked skeptical, clearly doubting his words. A surge of frustration rose in Josef, causing his heart rate to spike and a flush to color his cheeks. “I need to see how the others are doing,” he said briefly.

  Walking a short distance, Josef soon found Nikolai just beyond the meeting-room door. The man’s face was inscrutable, his emotions well-guarded.