Caelus awoke with the sun filtering through the dense tree canopies, which seemed to whisper ancient secrets. The air was sweet, scented by wildflowers bending under their own weight, and the birds sang songs that did not belong to this world. Around him, the ground was scattered with leaves in shades of gold and red, and a lake of water so clear it reflected every nuance of the sky and seemed to invite him to touch its surface. Fish with shimmering scales swam lazily, sparkling as if each contained a piece of the sun itself.
Confused, Caelus approached the shore, his feet sinking into the damp grass. Where am I…?, he thought, and… how did I end up here? His thoughts went unanswered, leaving him alone with the murmur of the water and the intense scent of the wet earth.
Curious, he leaned over the lake and drank the fresh water. The liquid ran down his throat, pure as crystal, and strangely familiar. It was at that moment that he saw something that made him stop. In the reflection of the water, between the blue of the sky and the green of the trees, hovered the image of a man.
Caelus stood, his heart beating irregularly, and slowly turned to face the figure. He was the most beautiful man he had ever seen, each feature sculpted with divine precision, as if a god had shaped the face by hand. The eyes shone with the intensity of storms and deep oceans, and the hair fell in waves that captured the sunlight, golden and black at the same time. There was something about him that made the world seem smaller, less important, and, at the same time, impossible to ignore. Caelus felt a mixture of awe and fear, as if he were standing before someone who did not belong to his time, perhaps a descendant of gods, or perhaps a god himself in disguise.
He took a deep breath, his heart still racing, and raised his voice:
– Who are you? And… do you know where I am?
The man gave a smile that did not quite reach his eyes, as if every word he spoke had been measured over centuries of patience.
– Those are not the questions you should be asking – said the man, with a deep voice resonating between the trees and the lake, as if it belonged to another world. – You are nobody. At least, you are nobody of importance… unless the world of Man decides to pay attention to you.
Caelus frowned, confused. Each word seemed to penetrate his mind and leave him more lost than before.
– And what about this place? – he insisted, trying to grasp some meaning.
– As for this place… this is what humanity could have had, if human nature were not so corruptible – replied the man, as he gazed at the lake as one contemplates a distant dream, touching the surface with invisible, almost imperceptible fingers.
A silence fell heavily between them, and Caelus felt the strange stillness of the world around amplify every thought. To his perplexity, the man's voice invaded his mind, clear, as if it had always been there: This is only what you desire most deeply, Cal. The world can change if you wish it. Just think… just think of what you want, and you will see the world transform before your eyes.
Caelus remained still, the man's words echoing in his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, only to open them and, in an instant, see the familiar outline of his house in Pisum rising before him. The aged wood of the door creaked lightly as he entered, and the smell of home – old parchment, polished wood, and a faint note of his father's forge – enveloped him, so intimate, yet so strange at the same time.
In the main hall, his father was bent over a thick book, its worn leather cover titled The Chronicles of Sir Alistair 'Silver Sword'. Cal felt a pang of nostalgia: he remembered afternoons when his father read every adventure of the knight to him, the sound of his firm, measured voice filling the room, and Cal's eyes shining at every sword strike and every peril the knight faced. He also recalled the times he had devoured the book alone, from the first to the last page, absorbing every detail, every battle, every triumph and defeat of the knight. He had always secretly imagined recreating those adventures as an adult, but the age of knights had long passed before he was born; the world was no longer made of pure honour, but of gunpowder and politics.
His father lifted his eyes from the book and, for a moment, time seemed to hesitate. He recognised Cal, and, with a warm smile, asked him to come closer. He nodded, but each step felt wrapped in a light confusion. Something was… different. Every detail was familiar, yet, at the same time, disconcerting.
He looked at himself and noticed that, although his body was smaller, he had not shrunk. It was still him, yes, but his younger self.
Cal picked up a polished wooden chair and sat beside his father, smelling the familiar scent of the leather book resting on the table.
– So, my boy… what do you want to read today?
Cal furrowed his brow, his eyes scanning the shelves without finding a single book that seemed right. No matter how hard he tried, none pleased him, and no title came to mind. A curious emptiness filled his mind, as if the stories had deliberately hidden themselves.
Fausto smiled, almost understanding his son's confusion.
– Do you remember when Sir Alistair encounters the group called 'The Children of the Veil'? – asked his father, in a tone mixing curiosity and caution.
Cal nodded, but when he tried to begin recounting the story, the words escaped him, as if someone had erased fragments of his memory, leaving only a cold void where battles and betrayals had once dwelled. His father leaned closer, his expression now more serious.
– The Children of the Veil tried to bring harmony to the world – he began, pausing for his son to listen carefully, – but their idea of harmony was cruel and dangerous. They wished to plunge the entire world into eternal darkness, invoking the god Umbra, who would bring about the so-called Great Eclipse over Terra Solara.
Caelus's eyes widened, his imagination filling his void memory with images of shadow and destruction.
– And… how would they do that? – he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
– To accomplish the plan – Fausto continued – they had to follow the instructions contained in the Twilight and Dawn Scroll, which detailed, with precision, the path to the Great Eclipse. Sir Alistair and his squire, Lucius, understood the danger and tore the scroll into several pieces. Each fragment was entrusted to secret groups, who swore to protect them with their lives. Each piece is more valuable than gold or power, and each carries the danger of a world that could be consumed by darkness if it falls into the wrong hands.
Caelus lifted his eyes from his father's book, and suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine. The familiar world of Pisum faded around him like mist, and he found himself transported to a dark, damp, almost suffocating place. The walls were close, covered in moss, and an earthy, metallic smell filled the air.
Something immediately unsettled him: he was not seeing the scene with his own eyes. There was a strange distance between him and the space, as if he were both spectator and victim at the same time, trapped in a body that was not his. Every breath he tried to control sounded far too loud in his head, echoing absurdly and amplified, and the sound of a heartbeat that was not his pounding threatened to betray him at any moment.
Caelus gasped quietly, almost imperceptibly, trying to minimise every movement, every sound. A primal fear sank into his mind, rooted in the instinct for survival, as the darkness seemed to swallow every rational thought. He felt his muscles tense, his fingers clench, and his skin covered in goosebumps. He shuddered at the sound of a distant, sharp female voice that seemed to echo through the damp, claustrophobic walls.
– The boy is useless – said the woman, each word loaded with disdain. – He knows nothing of what his father knows, and we will not need him for now. We have no time to deal with him. No one will find him; these cisterns are long, winding, and no one dares to venture here.
Caelus heard a low, hoarse grunt coming from somewhere in the shadows. There were no words, only a guttural, rough sound that seemed to carry a silent threat.
– Come, Bear. Time is running short and I must report everything I have discovered to the Guardian of the Veil. We will still need the boy in the future. He may know nothing now, but the Weaver of Shadows foresaw that he would be important for the success of our mission.
The grunt repeated, this time further away, and Caelus felt the air around him grow cold. The other man's lack of words, the mere presence of that raw sound, made the threat more tangible, more real. Fortunately, the sound of his steps seemed to fade with time.
When he no longer heard anything, Caelus moved again, with silent, almost imperceptible steps. The cold stone of the cisterns served as his guide as he advanced cautiously.
After some time that felt like an eternity, he noticed an old door, worn by time. He approached and, with restrained effort, forced the lock. The wood groaned and cracked, but gave way easily. When he opened it, the sight before him sent a chill down his spine: he saw himself, tied to a chair, eyes wide, breath held.
It was then that he understood what was happening with a silent shock: all that time, he had been seeing the memory through Bia's eyes.
In that moment, darkness swallowed him, and for an instant he felt completely alone, without memories, without an anchor in the world, only the sensation of emptiness pressing on his chest. And, as if summoned from the very air, the man from the paradisiacal place appeared before him, his serene presence contrasting with the darkness surrounding him. His eyes, still bright and unfathomable, fixed on him with intensity.
– Do you understand now? – he asked, in a calm voice, yet heavy with meaning.
Caelus shook his head, hesitant:
– No… I don't understand.
The man nodded slowly, as if he had expected that answer.
– This place… is the world that would emerge if good people did nothing to prevent the Children of the Veil from completing their mission.
Before Caelus could utter another word, the man vanished into the darkness, leaving him alone, the cold tightening around his body, and his mind a whirl of fear and confusion. Caelus swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the darkness around him.
– And I… what can I do? – he asked, his voice laden with despair. – I'm just an ordinary person, with no power, no influence… what can I do against forces that threaten the world?
Only silence answered him. The cold seemed to surround him even more fiercely, numbing his arms and legs. Out of nowhere, a presence emerged from the shadows: a woman. A reflection of the man from paradise, yet, at the same time, distinct, with features radiating calm and severity in equal measure. Each step she took was measured, silent, and seemed to carry the weight of the world itself.
– Without light – she said in a soft but firm voice – there can be no darkness. Without darkness, there can be no light. One cannot exist without the other, and neither will ever overpower the other.
Each word was both revelation and riddle. Before he could respond, the woman moved closer, touching him on the chest, exactly where he had been struck, still bleeding. The touch was cold, yet strange and comforting at the same time.
From the point where her fingers touched, an intense light began to emerge, concentrated, as if awakened by the contact. The blood shimmered briefly, and the pain transformed into a sensation of energy that spread through his body.
And suddenly, everything changed. The cold, the suffocating darkness, the absolute fear – all vanished. Caelus blinked and saw the paradisiacal place before him once again: the translucent lake with golden fish, the tall trees, rays of sunlight filtering through the leaves, birds singing as if nothing had ever gone wrong.
The woman appeared again, amidst the golden glow, but now closer, her eyes fixed on Caelus with an intensity that seemed to pierce his soul.
– It is through people like you that the balance of the world can continue to exist – Caelus felt an overwhelming weight in his chest, as if each word placed a responsibility on his still youthful shoulders. – End the battle – she continued, almost in a whisper – but do not be mistaken: the revolution is not your war.
She extended her hand, and the light emanating from it seemed to envelop Caelus, warming him and calming the fear that still lingered deep in his mind.
– Take Bia and depart for the Green League of Silvania. There, you will find a stronghold that appears abandoned. Look for a man named Eduardo Boscoferro. If he asks why you seek him, just say that you wish to protect the heart of the Ancient Tree from the darkness. He will know what that means.
Caelus's heart raced once more. Every word from the woman was a compass in a world of uncertainty, every instruction a promise that there was still something that could be done. She stepped towards him, her gaze growing even closer, an intimacy he had only known with Bia.
– Now… go – she commanded, and with a sudden movement, she pushed him into the lake.