《The Seal》 Prologue In the heart of the ocean, where no depth can be seen for that pit, nor its end, the sky boils with burning clouds. Lightning flares in every corner, and thunder roars without pause, as if the heavens have declared their wrath upon all beneath them. The air? Still. The sea? Motionless. As if they were imprisoned near the mouth of the abyss by a crushing force that suffocates life in the region. From the Earth''s gaping maw, steam rises towards the sky from the blistering heat of the abyss, returning as lightning and thunder. Deep within the pit, the sound of enormous chains dragging through the darkness can be heard, accompanied by the roar of an ancient being, igniting the air around it with the fire of its rage. That abomination, buried in the Earth''s darkness, hurls its thunderous words upwards: "You, above, it is coming. You fear its name. You search for it to imprison it as you did to me. It has been born, and it bears the forbidden name." Its fiery eyes gaze upwards, but its voice remains imprisoned with it in the depths. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "You didn''t kill me because you couldn''t. And you fear the day I will paint your false thrones with crimson red." The pressure in the pit increased, forcing the beast further into the ground until the earth beneath its body began to crack. Yet through it all, it began to laugh, a laugh so powerful it shook existence itself, causing the waves to rise momentarily before returning to their suppressed stillness. "You fear a mere prisoner, are you? I will make you taste your betrayal from the cup of destruction." Above the hellish clouds, four massive corpses hang - floating - with majestic but torn wings stretched across the edges of the sky and half-broken horns. Their faces are dark, and their bodies are smoke-like, as black as dusk. Their eyes, unblinking, never stray from the pit for a single moment, guarding it with their very souls. History never mentioned this pit in its books. How could it, when it consumes life itself? Each of the four repeats in a voice that shakes the walls of the realms: [Woe to the world on the day it sees the truth.] [Woe to the world on the day the chains are broken.] [Woe to the world on the day ?????] a rough cough [returns.] [Woe to the world on the day the seal is undone.] 01.01 On a quiet spring morning, as the sun struggled to pierce the thick canopy of branches in a distant forest, a boy of twelve moved nimbly among the trees. Dressed in a white robe with beautiful blue stripes that stretched to his knees, and a scarf covering half his face fluttering with every jump, one might mistake him for a ghost. He danced through the forest, sometimes stretching his body forward, other times backward, and at times flipping upside down before landing steadily on a branch ahead. He paused on a tall tree, slowly removing his scarf to reveal his pale face and calm features, marred only by a look of childish frustration. Staring into the distance, he let out a tired shout: "It''s not fair, Grandma! If I had a [SEAL] like you, I wouldn¡¯t have lost to you!" From a nearby tree, a hoarse laugh answered him: "This old woman beat you in the race and waited for you for half an hour!" With agility that belied her age, she leaped from one branch to another, landing lightly beside him with the day''s firewood on her back. Standing next to him, she cast a glance at the village that stretched below the cliff where the tree stood. The boy sighed beside her, and she patted his shoulder gently, saying, "Let''s head back now. The work won''t wait. And don''t forget, it''s your turn for the house chores today." The boy let out a long sigh: "Alright." He descended to the ground with heavy steps, abandoning the lightness he displayed moments ago, and walked like any ordinary person. As they made their way back, with firewood strapped to their backs, he asked with childlike curiosity: "Grandma, what might my parents be doing now in the land of kingdoms ? mmmhhh" The grandmother¡¯s face changed suddenly, and she nearly dropped the firewood on her back, before regaining her balance and said, "That old vagabond! Ever since you met him, you haven''t stopped asking silly questions about that cursed land! Yesterday, you asked if they had wings, and at breakfast, you asked if they had a third eye! Do you think I have wings or horns like those in your imagination?" Stomping the ground in frustration, he protested, "Grandma, Grandma..." "Lucky him. If I met him again, I''d give him a beating so hard he''d grow horns and know better than to fill a child''s head with such nonsense! And why do you still wear that junk on your finger?" He looked at the rusty iron ring on his finger, smiling faintly, showing his admiration for it despite its wear. "It''s a gift, ma. Look how it shines under the light." He held it up to her face. She glanced at it from the corner of her eye before sighing hardly, "Ah, what did I do to deserve living with a madman who learns from an even crazier vagabond ?" and walked away leaving him behind. "Maaa, wait for me!" ---- At the village gate, a stone arch stood tall, stretching high enough that anyone passing beneath would have to tilt their head back, straining to see where it met the sky. The arch was solid and weathered, hinting at an age far older than the village itself, while the outer wall that extended from it was sturdy, with stone blocks stacked firmly, creating a sense of quiet strength. Though not overwhelming, the scale of it all left an impression of protection, as if the village behind it was well-guarded from who-knows-what. --- World Encyclopedia: In this world, people were classified as either ordinary humans or the marked ones. The latter were born with a radiant seal somewhere on their bodies, taking various forms. This mark granted them high endurance and resistance to illnesses and poisons, as the grandmother had demonstrated earlier by winning the race through the forest. Usually, the marked ones were rare, and in some communities, they were almost non-existent. However, in this village, everyone had a distinct mark, except for the boy. He had been deprived of one. His grandmother once told him that this might be a blessing, contrary to what others thought, and that he might one day acquire a mark at the right time. All he had to do was be patient. Everyone knew she was lying to him, even the boy himself, but he bore no grudge against his fate. Though he wished he had pure blood like the villagers and could experience the life of strength and freedom, he accepted that not everything one desires comes to pass. After all, destiny is written in the heavens for reasons unknown to the people below. Some hidden wisdom is told there. The marked or sealed ones considered themselves superior to ordinary humans, noble by their rarity and abilities. However, the villagers did not look down on the boy. On the contrary, they loved and respected him. As for the distinction between the two classes, it is said that six of the seven kings of the world were marked, except for one, who was the most peculiar and strongest of them all. History books and war chronicles ranked him among the three calamities, and he was called "The Hell''s Steps" because he never left a battle without burning everything in his path. It was said that the seven kings possessed enough strength that even the weakest among them could move mountains and split seas. But these were just legends and tales passed down to the common folk, who foolishly believed that sitting on a throne somehow separated them from their human frailty. The boy, Glida, was always eager to ask the villagers returning from the outside world about news of the kingdoms and their kings and legends. --- I ask myself, just like you, how could an ordinary human become a ruler in a world where strength is the measure of thrones? Who are the three calamities? Is the one imprisoned at the bottom of the sea one of them? The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. And the most important question, what is exactly the [SEAL]? Let the events unfold to reveal the truth. --- Ahh, what is the boy''s name you ask ? Glida Ufitry. The grandmother? Tuda Imass. The village? Arzu. --- Some time ago, there was another unmarked person in the village, and he was Glida''s dearest friend before he suddenly disappeared. One day, an old vagabond arrived at the village from the outside and settled in its outskirts for quite some time. He lived off the villagers'' leftovers and helped them with their tasks, in return for which they gave him what little he needed to survive. The boy liked the old vagabond because, like him, the man had no mark. He was the only person who had ever truly understood him. Glida did not deny that his grandmother and the villagers loved and respected him, but they had never understood him. They always lived in different worlds. This was why, whenever he returned from gathering and selling firewood, he would prepare lunch for his grandmother and set some aside to take to the vagabond when he met him in the afternoon at the edge of the forest. They would exchange stories, and Glida would ask the vagabond about the world beyond the forest. The old man would tell him about the wonders and creatures he had encountered on his journeys before settling at the village. No one knew the vagabond''s real name. Even Glida, when he asked, was told that the man had no name. He preferred to call himself "The wanderer" because he had lost everything in life, and this was the title that best suited him. His appearance was unusual for a vagabond. He didn¡¯t carry the foul smell of those living in squalor. His shiny white hair reached his shoulders, and his short beard, framed by a few wrinkles, hinted at a hard life. His knowledge was far from ordinary, so much so that the villagers called him "The crazy wanderer," but this didn¡¯t bother him. He had once told Glida that titles reflect a person''s current state and that the meaning behind a name holds hidden secrets¡ªsecrets that grow more significant as the name itself becomes grander. The vagabond always addressed Glida with utmost respect, calling him "my lord." He would greet him with a strange salutation that fascinated the boy and made him laugh. He would place his left hand behind his back, the other on his chest, and bow before saying, "My greatest lord." Glida enjoyed the vagabond''s fantastical stories, even though his grandmother warned him daily about filling his head with nonsense. One day, as the two discussed the matters of their little kingdom, where Glida was the king and the vagabond his advisor, the old man presented the boy with a rusty iron ring he had likely found among the garbage. He said, "My great lord, your servant presents to you the heirloom of his family, this golden ring, as a symbol of our good intentions, honesty, and loyalty to you." Glida received the gift with the haughty demeanor of a king and replied: "It is with Our utmost gratitude that We have accepted the gift which you, the wanderer, hast bestowed upon Us. Thou art now permitted to venture forth to Our illustrious troves of treasure and take from them that which thy heart doth covet." He gestured toward the food he had stolen from his grandmother¡¯s house and brought to him. The vagabond, bowing his head, said, "Your humble servant thanks you, my lord, but I am ashamed to stretch out my lowly hand to touch your treasures. But let me tell you, Sire, this ring you now wear on your gracious finger is a treasure inherited from my family. Our prophecy says that one day, a ruler will come, and this ring will open for him all the doors of the realms, making him the supreme king of all the lands. I see no one more fitting for that role than you, my lord." Glida replied, "We have lorded over all, and thy trinket is but a bauble in Our grip. Yet, in Our magnanimity, We have deigned to embrace thy offering. Now, by decree of the crown, take thy fill from Our illustrious vaults, lest they brand Us a niggardly monarch unfit to rule." Suddenly, the two of them burst into laughter. The vagabond began eating the delicious food from the grandmother¡¯s kitchen, saying between bites, "Your acting was terrible. How could a great king accept a gift from a lowly servant?" took another generous bite and mumbled "However, I command your speech. Though it is still lacking" The boy replied, laughing, "What do you know about kings? I was just trying to show my dignity to you as a one. hmf" "I¡¯ve read about them." The two exchanged glances and laughed even harder. Their meetings were odd and amusing, and anyone watching them from afar would think they were both insane. But no one disturbed them. Even the grandmother would always keep an eye on them from a distance, clutching an angry stick in her hands. Though she knew some of her food was being stolen by the annoying boy, she was happy that for the first time, he had found someone who could make him laugh and play like other children. Then one day, "The crazy vagabond" disappeared quietly, just as he had come. He left behind only the useless rusty ring and vanished. --- At dawn the next morning, Glida opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Darkness still loomed outside the window to his left, though the stars had already faded. He threw off his blanket and got up, heading toward the bathroom made of beautiful wood and stone to begin his day by answering the nature''s call. After finishing, he walked to the dining table in the middle of the spacious room, close to the house''s entrance. He found some dates and warm milk, evidence that his grandmother had already beaten him to the forest as usual. He stuffed his mouth with what was in front of him and then, feeling sluggish, made his way to the door, knowing he was late to join the race and would have to do the house chores instead. He stepped outside and shut the door behind him. Looking toward the horizon, where white threads of dawn were beginning to appear, he took a deep breath of the refreshing spring air and exhaled deeply, saying to himself, "Let''s see if that mark can help you against a strong boy like me." He looked at his weak muscles, reconsidered his words, and then covered his face with the scarf, leaving only his dark eyes visible. With an excited smile, he kicked the damp grass-covered ground forcefully and darted off like a phantom toward the forest. 01.02 The horizon was burning with the colors of twilight when Galid ascended the southern hills toward the ancient building, leaving behind a day full of cedar tree adventures and kitchen tasks. The building stood to the south of the village, underlooking the great mountain range behind, a silent witness to a bygone era. Its crumbling columns and decaying walls told the story of ancient glory, and what remains of it today¡ªaccording to the villagers¡ªwas nothing but a faint shadow of its former magnificence from glorious ancient times. From this stone elevation, Glida had grown accustomed to watching the sun sink into the blazing horizon. Often, he was haunted by questions about this majestic daily scene: Had a human foot ever set upon the land of the sunset? And if it had, did its owner ever return to recount what they had seen? and most important, where does go in the night ? The village lay to the north in its evening stillness, protected by its high stone wall and its massive arched gate. With each sunset, torches began to light one after another along the wall and atop the houses, until the earth and sky seemed to compete in their display of light¡ªthe former with fires made by humans, the latter with stars sown by the universe. Glida inhaled the evening breeze deeply, contemplating the scene he never tired of seeing. Behind him, the chain of green mountain ridges arrogantly pierced the clouds, veiling the southern horizon with their grandeur. Below the hills, the village was surrounded by an endless forest of intertwined cedar trees mingling with their companions of various species. Far in the distance, stood a monstrously giant tree, its branches reaching into the sky as if challenging the hills, casting its shadow over the smaller trees dwarfed beneath it. --- Glida sat atop the crumbling stone structure, gazing at the sky stretched before him and the horizon lost beyond the forbidden forest. The forest always piqued his curiosity, filling his mind with questions about what lay beyond it. As he drowned in his thoughts, he remembered that cold autumn night when he spoke to his grandmother about his desire to explore the world. [Two years ago] His grandmother was preparing dinner in the kitchen, warmth seeping from the fire crackling in the stove. The ten-year-old boy sat beside her, wrapped in her woolen shawl, feeling safe and cozy. Suddenly, he decided to break the silence that filled the room. With childlike enthusiasm, he said, "Granma, the wanderer told me today that beyond the forest, there are great villages they call cities. He also said he visited one that was suspended in the sky." His grandmother didn¡¯t answer immediately but continued stirring the soup in front of her, as if she hadn¡¯t heard him. But Glida insisted, adding, "He also told me that he once saw a magnificent palace made entirely of crystal and glass." In that moment, with lightning speed, his grandmother lifted the ladle and gently tapped him on the head. He jumped from the sudden pain and said, "Ouch! Maa, why?" She replied with a teasing tone, raising an eyebrow, "I just wanted to make sure, does your head have a brain in it, or is it just an empty box for storing such nonsense? Do you really believe there are villages flying in the sky? How absurd! Maybe next time, the wanderer will tell you that mountains move when you clap for them!" Glida exclaimed in surprise, "But... why would he lie to me? He said he visited it himself." His grandmother shook her head and sighed, saying, "Because you believe in balderdash, you foolish boy. Now hand me the salt beside you." Glida took the glass jar and handed it to her, then returned to the warmth of her shawl. After a moment of silence, he said quietly, "He also promised to show me the wonders of the world if I met him outside the village." This time, he was spared another crushing blow of ardent affection from the soup ladle; instead, his grandmother simply tossed more firewood into the flames to enhance its glow. She seemed lost in her thoughts. He heard her muttering some words he couldn¡¯t quite distinguish: "Damn you. you useless nuisance."A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. After a moment''s hesitation, Glida boldly said, "GrandMa, I want to leave the village to see the world." His grandmother froze for a few seconds, then fell silent. She didn¡¯t answer him. Glida felt the weight of silence descend on the room, so he dared to say, "I know you hear me." He pulled his body from under the shawl to see his grandmother¡¯s face and noticed the glimmer of tears shining in the firelight, catching a few drops on her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with her hand, making excuses: "I didn¡¯t expect this onion to be so sharp." Glida felt a pang of guilt, murmuring, "Did I say something that upset you?" After a few moments of deep silence, she unexpectedly replied calmly, "Give me a hand and let''s set the dinner table. I¡¯ll tell you something afterward." --- After half an hour of bustling between the kitchen and the main room, lit by a few candles fixed in the crevices of the stone wall, the two sat sharing a bowl of soup and some dates and bread in prolonged silence amidst the quiet of the cold nights. Finally, the grandmother broke the silence, saying, "I knew the day would come when you¡¯d want to spread your little wings, but I didn¡¯t expect it to arrive so quickly. Ten years have passed as if they were a moment." She sighed lightly and continued, "I promised your parents that I would never refuse you anything, and I¡¯m still keeping my promise." Glida interrupted with his mouth full as he chewed, "Buh'' you didn'' le'' me buy shome candy wif my own money yeshterday... chewing sounds ...an'' lasht week, you shtoppped me from goin'' wif the hunters on their trip!" swallows audibly And before he could finish, his grandmother tapped him on the head and said sharply, "Let me finish speaking, you annoying brat!" Glida grumbled, rubbing his head, "Ouch, you always hit me! You¡¯ll really grow me horns with your slaps!" His grandmother sighed again and said, "Where was I? Oh yes. You told me you wanted to leave to see the world. Well, do you think it¡¯s that easy? Not a chance." Glida raised his eyebrows in surprise, "So you were listening to me in the kitchen? He spat some food from his mouth, "What¡¯s with all this mystery?" His grandmother replied with a smirk, "But there¡¯s a condition for your departure: you must first find the exit. Have you ever wondered why no visitors come from the outside world ? Because, simply put, they don¡¯t know we exist. And even if they did, the entrance and exit to the village is known only to its people." Glida asked curiously, "And why do we hide? Do they hate us that much?" His grandmother replied, looking at him, "Find the exit first, and then we¡¯ll talk. I¡¯ll give you a hint: ask the great tree." Glida looked at her perplexed and said, "Is that all there is to it?" His grandmother responded with a mysterious smile, "You will soon discover the truth about your dreams, my dear boy." --- [In the present] "I couldn¡¯t reach the tree again," Galid muttered to the twinkling sky. With every attempt to get closer, the air weighed down on his steps, as if an invisible wall was pushing him back. Today, he managed to cover half the distance before his strength failed and the world faded from his senses, only to find himself lying at the village gate. He rubbed his head, groaning, "Ah..." Since that conversation two years ago, he had been waking up at dawn, trying to reach the giant tree. Each time he got closer, he faced a strange sensation¡ªa heaviness in his steps and resistance from the earth itself. Even the forest beasts had attacked him repeatedly, but he survived by some miracle each time. -- Was it really luck ? Who knows. -- "Is this what my grandmother was hinting at?" he wondered, trying to decipher her cryptic words. The idea of seeking help seemed logical, but not here. That was the thinking of the privileged, like YOU, who lived in land of abundance and ease. In this place, people believe that everyone¡ªeven children¡ªmust bear the consequences of their choices. Those who don''t, won''t survive the harshness of this realm. He leaned his back against a cold rock, letting his hands hang by his sides. The sky was adorned with faint stars on the twilight horizon, and the cool breeze teased his cloak. Yet one question continued to trouble him: "How did the old man find the forest''s entrance ? And why wasn¡¯t he cast out of the village ? mmmhhh" asked with ignorance and curiosity. Everyone ignored his inquiries. Even the candy seller, the village soothsayer and keeper of its secrets, answered with ignorance. He seemed to be hiding a deeper secret, but silence remained the rule. He raised his right hand toward the sky, contemplating his rusty iron ring. He gripped it tightly, and the memory of his mad friend flickered in his mind. 01.03 [Another Day, the Same Destination] Glida set out once more toward the great tree, as he had countless times before. Yet this time, he carried with him an unfamiliar feeling¡ªa glimmer of hope he had never allowed himself to feel. Dreams of finally reaching his goal danced in his mind. What made the difference this time was his decision to change his path. Instead of heading northward toward the tree, as he always did, he veered westward into the depths of the forest. Why? A strange voice had whispered to him in his dreams, hinting that sometimes the straight paths lead furthest away. He could have dismissed it as mere illusions or meaningless dreams, but he was determined to try. After all, he had nothing to lose; he had lost it all from the beginning. The ground was grassy and damp, and the sky was clear, with the first rays of dawn glittering above. Glida¡¯s eyes were accustomed to the forest¡¯s darkness, for life here had taught him to always be alert. He leaped from branch to branch, running through the forest, disturbing the wild creatures that had just emerged to seek their food after a harsh winter. He continued his run tirelessly for nearly an hour until he reached the river that split from the green mountains to the south. Here, the river divided into two streams¡ªone flowing eastward toward the village''s center and the other northward toward the tree. He understood the vision from his dream and chose to follow the northern stream, where he felt the air pressure decrease. He concluded also that the further north he went alongside the river from this side, the slower the stream flowed and the lighter the pressure compared to the path he had taken all those months before. Yet as he moved along, the pressure gradually weighed on his steps, each one feeling heavier than the last, but he still managed to press on and it felt lighter than the usual route. As he walked along the slowing stream mesmerized by this new view he discovered, a herd of flame-horned deer emerged from among the trees and beautifully surprised him. They crossed the river quickly, though one doe hesitated, guiding her young as if teaching it how to push through the heaviness in the air. Glida stood still, watching with fascination as the mother instructed her young to leap. Over the years in his village, he had come to understand that the secret to surviving in the forest lay in silence¡ªa silence that demanded stillness in his steps, his movements, and even in the beating of his heart. Here, one must stay silent or die. The young deer leaped but only made it halfway before falling into the water. The mother cried out, calling to the herd for help, but none dared to respond. Instinctively, they knew that the river¡¯s weight and pressure here were formidable. Without a second thought, Glida broke his stillness, rushing toward the fawn, ignoring the pressure and the heavy fatigue gathering on him. The mother, startled by his sudden movement, prepared to defend her young with her fiery red horns ablaze, which could easily burn him to ash. But he jumped into the river before she could reach him, only to discover something new: the weight in the river was far greater than he had imagined.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Ignoring the pain building in his joints, he began swimming swiftly toward the struggling fawn as the waters swirled around him. Drawing close, he encountered a new obstacle¡ªthe flaming antlers of the young deer. Though young and not fully developed, they were still enough to scorch his skin. He decided to dive and push the fawn from below, challenging the water¡¯s pressure and his own physical exhaustion. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, diving, pushing, and gasping for air, but he finally managed to lift both the fawn and himself out of the water, collapsing unconscious moments later. Another survival lesson, not respected here : never let down one''s guard in the wilderness. The weary youth stirred at midday, hours after the rescue. With great effort, he pried open his eyes, met by the sight of sunlight filtering through the verdant foliage - a natural splendor that suffused his heart with warmth. As he attempted to raise his head, he beheld the deer herd encircling him. The young fawn danced merrily among them, its recent tribulations seemingly forgotten, while the older deer in the herd watched, their demeanor one of reassurance. Raising himself on his tired arms, he tried to piece together what had happened. How had his body moved to save the fawn without him even commanding it? A soft snort behind him drew his attention; he turned to see the mother deer, who had been so fearful and defensive that morning, sitting calmly beside him, her glowing and warm yellow antlers surrounding him protectively. He realized that she had shielded him and kept him warm as he lay unconscious. He reached out to touch her head, but she drew back slightly before bowing to him. This was the first time a human had touched her since that one troubling encounter ten years ago. They exchanged a quiet, reflective silence until the young fawn, apparently jealous, began bouncing around them as if inviting him to play. Struggling to his feet, Glida stumbled twice before the mother deer steadied him, while the young deer dashed around him in circles. He chuckled at the sight. Though the pressure still lingered in the air, it seemed as if his body was beginning to adapt to it, despite the strain on his muscles. As they say, adversity either kills or strengthens a person. But in his case, it had torn his muscles to the limit. What remained could not withstand even a nudge from the fawn¡¯s fiery antlers. The mother deer admonished her young one with a gentle nudge of her own, reminding it to respect their guest. Glida lay on the ground, stretching his arms out with a smile as he gazed up at the green forest canopy veiling the sky. 01.04 In the chilly morning within the quiet forest, Glida stood still, carefully observing a young deer with a scrutinizing gaze. He watched its seemingly erratic leaps, movements that initially appeared random but in truth embodied nature¡¯s instinct in slicing through the dense air. He tried to decode these rhythmic movements, seeking a formula that might explain them, yet found himself unable to fathom it, and so he abandoned the thought. This time, he rose, resolute in his intent to complete his task. The mother deer gestured to him with a nod, offering to carry him on their journey. He felt too weary to refuse, as pain surged through his body from head to toe. The herd began moving toward the great tree with confident steps, as though fully aware of their precise destination. In that moment, Glida felt a profound shift within; it was as if nature had unveiled a hidden gateway, lifting the invisible veil that once constrained his steps. Clinging tightly to the warm antlers, he carefully observed the movement of each member of the herd, sensing from their glances and hoof placements that they were evading something unseen in the air, as if they were stealthily navigating a spider''s web, avoiding its tangled threads. Yet, while he understood the concept, replicating it proved challenging; His eyes failed to detect the hidden barrier despite their ability to pierce the deep darkness. The colossal tree began to appear on the horizon, while the river lay serene like a mirror of pure silver and sand glass. Fish swam in its transparent waters, appearing as if they were floating in an infinite space. Clearly, every creature here had been granted the instincts necessary to exist under this mysterious weight. An hour of continuous running passed before the massive tree finally loomed before them, its sprawling branches piercing the sky. But for its vibrant green leaves, one might mistake it for a rocky trunk that bound earth to heaven. Indeed, its trunk and branches were as hard as stone, with enormous roots stretching across and beneath the ground, forming a circle akin to the mouth of a giant volcano, daring no other tree to encroach upon its domain. Oh, how selfish of you nature. The herd halted at the circular clearing amidst the trees, their senses alert, as though perceiving a hidden threat near the tree. Glida dismounted from the deer''s back, embracing her with warm gratitude before repeating the gesture with her young, who seemed saddened to part from his first friend. Suddenly and without any warnings, the antlers of the entire herd erupted into a blazing blue flame, forcing Glida to recoil from the intense heat, incomparably to their red form. The deer stamped the ground in clear distress, and as Glida desperately searched for the source of their agitation, he motioned to the mother stressfully for her to calm down. Her anxiety softened a little, though the fire on her antlers still burned furiously. With a tense nod, she turned and vanished into the shadows of the forest with the others. The air seemed weird in that clearing. The young man found himself alone before the towering tree, like an ant before the Solomon''s army. The river reached its base, resting there reverently, its waters stilled in awe of the scene. Moss, fungi, and blossoms of every hue adorned its vast stony branches, casting a spellbinding charm over this surreal display of nature. The rocky giant presided over the scene amid the flourishing surroundings, like a king reigning supreme over his realm. Glida inched closer, stepping between the immense roots and the colorful grass that carpeted the ground, in a space filled with the joyful dances of butterflies. The sight resembled a living masterpiece, blending grandeur with the serenity of spring, leaving him in awe of nature''s divine grandeur. All fatigue, pain, and struggle faded before the breathtaking beauty of this mesmerizing sight. He forgot it all. He stretched his neck, attempting to glimpse the top of the tree, but its wide branches obscured the sky from his view. It stood tall, with two tiers of leafy branches challenging the heavens. He approached until he was separated from the tree only by the river''s end encircling it like a pristine pool cradling its trunk. Sunlight trickled through from above, illuminating the water''s surface with vibrant, pulsing colors. Butterflies danced along the enormously wide trunk in a vibrant array of hues, as if performing a silent symphony of nature. As Glida moved toward it, they scattered in all directions, leaving him in a state of bliss he wished would never end. Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a strange inscription¡ªa writing in a language he had never seen before, glowing with a pulsating blue light. The letters, carved in large, bold strokes, seemed to beckon him closer. They sparkled under the sunlight like ancient secrets hidden within nature''s embrace: _____________________________________________________ ???? ???????? ???????, ???? ??????? ?????? ????????.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ???? ????? ?????? ?????????. ??? ???? ?????? ????? ? ????? ???? ????????. ???? ?????? ? ?????? ???? ??????? ??????. ???? ????? ?? ????? ????? ????. ___________________________________________ The inscription entranced Glida, his mind slipping into a trance, drawn into waves of hallucination and fantasy. The more he stared, the deeper he felt his sense of reality fading, as though these blue letters were magical gates to another world. Suddenly, a booming voice shattered the silence: ¡°How long will you gaze into the void?¡± Glida¡¯s heart raced in fear. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes searching for the source of the voice. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, upon seeing a figure suspended in the air¡ªits form as dark as the night, with only two glowing white eyes piercing through the darkness. Small horns crowned its head, and a twisted tail hung down behind it. In its right hand, it held loosely a long black spear, its sharp red tip gleaming ominously. The creature''s gaze fell on Glida with an air of arrogance, exuding a sense of complete superiority. The creature¡¯s height exceeded slightly the tallest men in the village, surrounded by a floating dark metal ring over his head like a choking collar. ¡°I repeat: how long will you stare at the void, ignoring my presence ?¡± The being¡¯s deep voice rumbled, shaking the earth. Paralyzed by shock and fear, Glida found himself unable to speak. The creature''s presence pressed upon him, as heavy as a mountain on his chest. Each word it uttered resonated within him, scattering birds in terror. The creature remained in place, scrutinizing Glida with its cosmic eyes, as if probing his soul. Glida nearly sank to his knees under the crushing weight of fear pulling him to the ground and the exhaustion ravaging his body. But he refused to kneel¡ªanother lesson learned: weakness meant death. The two locked eyes¡ªone weighed down with terror, the other radiating the authority of a king confronting a servant in his presence below him. Silence settled, thick as the calm before a storm, until the creature finally spoke in cryptic words: [Oh, you who gaze at the abyss, imprison your soul to unleash your shadow. Ensnare your heart to see your darkness. Yet, do not release the thread of truth between worlds. Raise the graves of kings before the throne of corruption. Ignite the earth, and you shall see it barren.] ¡°Ah?¡± Glida stammered, his body trembling as a chill of surprise ran through him. The creature gazed at him, saying, ¡°That is what the inscription on the tree reads.¡± Glida remained silent, his eyes questioning. The creature replied coldly, ¡°It seems you¡¯ve inherited the ignorance of your village. I am the guardian of the sacred land. You will find what you seek in the abandoned structure on the southern hills. Seek your desire at dawn, or lose it.¡± Words failed to break through the wall of astonishment surrounding Glida. He froze in place until the creature growled, "What are you waiting for? Leave." The weight lifted slightly from the boy, and he stepped back, still contemplating the creature, dragging his heavy steps without awareness, as questions wrestled in his troubled mind. He stumbled between the roots, exhausted, his only goal to escape this strange place. With every step, the trees recoiled, as if retreating before him, while his exhausted eyes blurred with fatigue. Just as he felt himself slipping into disorientation, the thunderous voice boomed again: "It seems you have a new companion. Guard it well." He turned with difficulty, trying to understand the meaning, only to find the creature had vanished, leaving him suspended between dream and reality. Events swirled in his mind like a vortex, before he fainted for the second time that day, the last thing he heard being the sound of hard footsteps rushing towards him. --- At the top of the tree, where the gaze stretches to embrace the horizon, sat a warrior clad in armor made of leather and steel. His powerful body was encased in ancient combat gear, and his face was hidden behind a rusty metal mask, revealing only his fiery eyes. His silver hair danced with the spring breeze, while the scratched metal gleamed with battle scars under the afternoon sun. The warrior gently leaned on his left knee, supporting himself with his right hand, while the shadowy creature stood behind him in stillness, holding its spear horizontally in its right hand, alert to any sudden movement. "What do you think?" asked the warrior, his eyes watching the distant ground below them. "The binding thread is healing quickly," the creature replied in a serious tone, looking westward. "How boring. I''ll ask again: What do you think of the boy?" "His soul remains untainted, surprisingly pure, but it''s still too early" His voice, no longer trembling with power, now flowed with the quiet stillness of a river winding at the foot of the tree. The warrior tilted his head to the west and then said, "It seems our visitors have grown tired of waiting." And quickly, he leapt into the air like a rock thrown into water, while the shadow remained still behind him. "Don''t let me die!" he screamed sarcastically into the air while . But before he could reach the first layer of the tree''s branches, the two disappeared as if existence had swallowed their trace, leaving only the echo of their mockery drifting through the air. 01.05 The old wooden ceiling brightened under the threads of noon sunlight streaming in through the glass window. Distant sounds softly broke the silence, and birds chirped cheerfully outside. He opened his eyes, staring blankly as he tried to recall what had happened in front of the Stone Tree. Perhaps it had all been a dream, yet the ache in his muscles and bones confirmed its reality, though his mind struggled to accept it. How could anyone believe the truth of what he¡¯d felt, or the presence of the majestic being he¡¯d witnessed? A voice broke his thoughts¡ªa familiar, aged voice beside him: ¡°Finally awake, are you? You¡¯ve slept the whole day and night.¡± But her words barely registered, his mind still caught up in unanswered questions. He raised his hands, comparing their calmness now to the tremors of yesterday. ¡°They told me they found you by the tree,¡± his grandmother said, her voice tinged with guilt. ¡°It¡¯s my fault. How could I send a child to that monstrous tree?¡± She sighed, adding quietly, ¡°I knew you wouldn¡¯t withstand the pressure there, yet I didn¡¯t hesitate.¡± It seemed no one else knew of the dark guardian in the forest. She continued, her voice edged with unease, ¡°I was truly worried when I lost track of your presence. My heart started racing, pounding wildly in my chest, all at once.¡± The once-bright day seemed to darken with her words. She tried to lift the mood, forcing a smile. ¡°Now, now, enough with that gloomy face. I¡¯m sorry, Glida! And here¡ªyour first breakfast after a whole day without a meal. I know you¡¯re still tired, but you need to eat or that weak body of yours will give out.¡± Glida looked at her with empty eyes, as if his spirit had stayed behind in the forest. She patted his shoulder, reassuringly. ¡°I have to head to the village market. Eat up, don¡¯t worry about the dishes; you have a free day.¡± She draped a handmade red woolen cloak over her shoulders, then turned back to glance at him. ¡°When you¡¯re done, step outside for some fresh air,¡± she added before leaving. After a moment of inner reflection, Glida rose from his bed, a makeshift pile of blankets atop a large woolen rug. He made his way to the bathroom to freshen up, then tidied his sleeping area, transforming it from a bedroom to a dining space. In the countryside, spaces serve multiple purposes; unlike the nobles like YOU, for whom space and wealth are no concern, villagers make the most of what they have. Heating, too, takes effort, time, and firewood, so they only warm one room. Following his morning routine, Glida approached the breakfast his grandmother had lovingly prepared. On the table sat fresh bread, butter, warm milk, honey, and a plate filled with freshly picked fruit. ¡°These must be from the family¡¯s farm,¡± he thought. His rumbling stomach put his questions on hold as he devoured the meal. With a full belly, his spirits brightened. He gave himself two light slaps on the cheeks, as if to shake off the lingering haze, then decided to venture outside and confirm if the village had indeed remained unscathed by the mysterious beings of the forest. He took in a deep breath of crisp morning air, then walked toward the farm beside their stone cottage. There he greeted a cluster of animals: the ¡°foolish¡± chickens, the ¡°angry¡± geese, and a wise cow with her newborn calf. Grinning, he spoke to them as though they understood him, imagining he was fluent in their language. The morning conversation went as follows: ¡°Thank you for the eggs!¡± he said, nodding to the chickens. The mother hen responded, clucking, ¡°Bukkok, bukbukok kokoook!¡± ¡°Yes, yes, I know, but thank you anyway,¡± he replied with a grin. Turning to the geese, he continued, ¡°Thank you for your¡­ attitude!¡± The leader of the goose gang honked furiously, ¡°Honk, Honkonk, HOOONNNKKK!¡± ¡°Sorry, sorry. Just kidding, I¡¯ll leave you alone,¡± Glida said, retreating with an amused smile. His spirits lifted with each passing exchange as he thanked the cow for her milk, butter, and yogurt, carefully sidestepping the subject of meat. She responded with a calm ¡°Moooo, AMooo!¡± while feeding her calf. Maybe it was all his imagination, or maybe there was some hidden understanding between him and the animals. Besides these useful creatures¡ªexcept the unruly geese¡ªthere were cabbages, carrots, potatoes, and an array of fruit trees, all a result of his grandmother¡¯s hard work.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Satisfied, he headed toward the village center. Moments later, he dashed back to close the farm gate after a lively chase with the foolish chickens and a near-deadly encounter with the irritable geese. The cow, being the wise creature she was, gave him no trouble, though her calf proved mischievous. ¡°Oof, Gran would be furious if she found them outside,¡± he muttered, finally securing the gate. [At the Village Center] The village center opened up before him, a lively plaza filled with a symphony of sounds and movement. This was the only market in the village, and people bustled about, some displaying their wares on the ground, while others sold goods from small shops. People haggled, argued, and sometimes even clashed, though laughter was scarce¡ªthis wasn¡¯t the place for merriment. A river with clear, cold water flowed into the plaza from the eastern edge, originating from the southern mountains, threading its way through the forest before arriving here. Navigating through the vibrant marketplace, Glida found his mood lightening. He loved visiting the center now and then, soaking in the busy, chaotic energy. He searched for his grandmother and soon spotted her engaged in conversation with a group of women, likely discussing one of her trades. Not wanting to interrupt, he left her to her business. As Glida wandered along the riverbank, its gentle flow brought back flashes of the vision he¡¯d seen at the Stone Tree. Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed, ¡°Glida! Glida! Come here!¡± Recognizing the voice, he turned to see the candy shop owner¡ªa plump, jovial man he knew well. ¡°I have no money today,¡± Glida warned with a sheepish smile as he approached. The shopkeeper laughed heartily, his voice rich with warmth. ¡°My boy, my boy, don¡¯t worry. I¡¯m just checking up on you. I heard what happened yesterday.¡± The candy man¡¯s face was round and beaming, his eyes almost hidden in his smile. His large, rotund body testified to his love for sweets, and a curious blue line, like a tattoo, marked the right side of his mouth, luminating as he spoke. It was his unique [Seal], different from the circular pattern Glida¡¯s grandmother bore on the back of her left hand. Everyone¡¯s Seal was distinct, not always beautiful, but unmistakable. Glida found himself staring at the blue line, unable to get used to it no matter how many times he saw the man. The shopkeeper, noticing, leaned in and chuckled, ¡°Hello, anyone in there?¡± The boy snapped out of his daze, embarrassed. ¡°Oh! Sorry, sir.¡± The candy man laughed again. ¡°So, how¡¯s the young man who dared to go near the Stone Tree? They say only the strong-willed can even approach it, and only the luckiest make it back.¡± Glida hesitated, trying not to reveal too much. ¡°Let¡¯s just say I used up a lifetime of luck out there.¡± The shopkeeper¡¯s tone softened, but his voice remained loud enough for half the market to hear. ¡°Lucky for you, The Ghosts were nearby and brought you back. Everyone in the village felt the tremor and saw the flames.¡± Piecing things together, Glida reasoned that perhaps the fleeing deer had sparked a fire in the forest, while the tremor could have been the intense presence of the dark guardian. Curious, he asked, ¡°What do you mean by The Ghosts?¡± ¡°They¡¯re the finest hunters here, the only ones who venture deep into the forest and return alive,¡± the candy man declared proudly. ¡°They¡¯re highly respected in the village, but we rarely see them, always off in the wilderness. You were really lucky, boy. Even I¡¯ve only spotted them once or twice in my entire life.¡± The man punctuated his words with a heavy slap on Glida¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll remember that. Thanks,¡± Glida replied, wincing as he held his aching shoulder, waving as he took off at a run. ¡°Come back soon!¡± the shopkeeper called after him, but Glida only muttered to himself, ¡°Does he think I¡¯m made of stone? Even Gran is gentler than that¡­¡± A memory of his grandmother¡¯s stern discipline made him reconsider. ¡°No, no! I¡¯d take his slaps all day over her switch. I still feel the last one,¡± he groaned, rubbing his shoulder. He wandered down the wide, stone-paved alleys, though he kept his distance from the forest. His encounter there still haunted him, and he knew it would take time before he felt ready to return. After an hour of following the river and witnessing the village¡¯s bustling life, he turned back toward home, still friendless and deep in thought. [At the Dinner Table] ¡°I never thought you¡¯d reach the tree. Even for an adult, it¡¯s a daunting trial. I¡¯m sorry I put you through it,¡± Glida¡¯s grandmother said, breaking the silence that had settled over the room. She took a slow sip of her tea before continuing, ¡°Honestly, I never wanted you to leave the village. So, I created this challenge to keep you here. But you¡¯ve proven yourself. I believe you now know where you must go.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Glida replied, his voice steady and calm. ¡°Another thing,¡± she said, her tone turning serious, ¡°the secret you¡¯ve earned from the tree is yours and yours alone. You must not speak of it to anyone¡ªnot even me. There¡¯s a strict taboo surrounding the forest''s entrance and exit. No one may share or even ask about it unless they¡¯ve earned the right to know.¡± ¡°I understand,¡± he replied, his gaze unwavering. ¡°I haven¡¯t told anyone, and I won¡¯t.¡± ¡°Good,¡± she nodded approvingly. ¡°Now, rest. Take all the time you need.¡± 01.06 Five days had passed since he arrived at the tree, and the unsealed boy found himself hesitating to venture back into the forest and revisit his familiar retreat at the Southern Hills. His grandmother had remained silent during these days, but her growing concern for his mental state was palpable. Enough was enough. He had faltered at the first challenge. Tonight, he resolved to seek the exit. Thus began the sixth day. [Approximately an hour before dawn] Darkness enveloped the world, and a cold breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the freshness of the night air. The stars and the moon cast their watchful gaze over the lesser world below. The boy awoke, standing in front of the open creaking wooden door behind him. He stared into the darkness, his bright eyes sparkling with excitement as he pondered what he might discover in the hills he had missed all these years and what experiences awaited him beyond the world¡¯s gate. As was his custom, he wrapped a white scarf around his face, closed the door behind him, savored the last breath of the cool breeze, and set off toward the old ruins atop the Southern Hills, this time for a different purpose. You might wonder why he always covered his face¡ªperhaps for the sake of drama, to shield himself from the biting cold air while he ran, or simply a habit inherited from someone else. After a brief moment of running, he arrived at the site before dawn, standing before the nearly ruined ancient building. He searched for a suitable spot to mark the exit. He had grown familiar with this place, having visited it daily, particularly after forming a bond with the enigmatic beggar. Initially, he had not recognized the ruins, as they were obscured by the dense forest of the hills, but the stranger was well aware of their existence. He had evidently lived there for some time before departing once more. ¨C One day, as they sat together, the vagabond regaled him with tales of the seven kingdoms and a powerful king of ancient times who had united all lands, ruling the world with unmatched justice and strength. This emperor was renowned for his vast knowledge, mastering every language and deciphering even the most ancient tongues. However, following his mysterious death, the greed of his nobles corrupted the throne, fracturing it into seven kingdoms and numerously lost lands. While some rulers were virtuous, the majority fell into corruption. Countless lives were lost in the bloodshed that the great emperor had sought to prevent. Ultimately, humanity''s nature leaned closer to that of devils than sacred angels, and the virtuous few were stripped of their rights to the throne in their bid to halt the rivers of blood. Sadly, the river is still flowing. ¡°You will witness a beautiful, magical world beyond these trees, built by the great emperor, but know that it is tainted by crimson blood,¡± the vagabond had warned. ¡ª [Back to the present] Glida started his search for the exit gate, but nothing revealed itself. He opened every door, some so ancient they nearly crumbled at his touch, yet nothing transpired. As the early morning sun began to rise, one of the doors he had opened led him into a vast garden, bursting with colorful flowers that appeared to smile at the sky. He had never known such a place existed here. After all, this building was immense and steeped in mystery, yet he had never recognized the value of uncovering its secrets. "The sun is fully risen, and I¡¯ve found nothing. Nada. Walou." he murmured to himself, feeling the weariness settle upon him after exploring every door and level. He lay down upon the enchanting flower field, attempting to recall the words of the dark guardian, but nothing distinct came to his drowsy mind. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, for he had not slept the previous night, gripped by excitement and fear. ¡ª The next day, Glida found himself slumped at his usual lookout, perched atop the crumbling stone ruins. His favorite spot gave him a sweeping view of the world, the stars fading into a pale sky as dawn crept over the horizon. "Maybe I missed something yesterday¡­" he murmured, his breath forming faint clouds in the crisp morning air. His bright eyes scanned every dark corner, every shadowed nook. An hour passed, and the first tendrils of sunlight lit the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ruins. Still, nothing. ''Did he lie to me?'' Glida shivered, recalling the cryptic words of the Dark Guardian. ''No¡­ I don¡¯t think so''. But frustration boiled within him. This was the third time he¡¯d been here, the third dawn that had come and gone with no sign of an exit. ¡°You said I¡¯d find the door here!¡± he yelled, grabbing at his hair in sheer frustration. ¡°How am I supposed to know where to look if you don¡¯t tell me anything?¡± Standing before the large, open gate, he tried imitating the Guardian¡¯s deep voice. [You will find what you seek in the ruins to the north] he intoned mockingly. ¡°Or what he said. Well, here I am! And still¡ªnothing!¡± Days blurred together in a maddening cycle of searching and coming up empty. How much passed ? We lost counting after all. One dawn when his limits broke up, his shout of frustration echoed across the hills, filled with every ounce of his pent-up anger. "You useless, floating, shadowy¡­ whatever you are!" he shouted. "I¡¯m the fool for believing in a fake shadow¡¯s lies !" As he kicked at the cold earth in anger, a raspy, hollow voice drifted through the air behind him, like the scratch of stone on stone. ¡°I can confirm that you are, indeed, quite foolish.¡± Silence. Glida froze. Did I really just hear¡­? He spun around, searching, but there was no one. His heart pounded as he shook his head. "I¡¯m losing it¡­I keep hearing weird voices these days."Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°You¡¯re not crazy." The same voice replied, sending a chill down his spine "Yet". He glanced up¡ªand his jaw dropped. Perched gracefully atop a high stone was a pure white owl, its amber eyes glowing with a quiet, ancient wisdom. "I¡¯ve watched you every morning as you come here, child," the owl intoned, its voice deep and deliberate. "You are truly the most hopeless creature in this entire forest." For a long, breathless moment, Glida stared, too stunned to react. Then, all at once, he screamed, ¡°A-AAAaaaahhh! A talking owl!" another look "AA-AAHHHH, I''m officially crazy! Please I''m still a child for going mad.¡± The owl blinked slowly, as it descended with silent wings, landing gracefully on a fallen stone wall nearby. ¡°It is not your mind that¡¯s broken, but your heart,¡± it said, its voice echoing through the ruins like the sound of wind brushing through leaves. "How could you be so foolish as to think the exit would open if you do not truly desire it?" Glida squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his cheek. "No, no way. This isn¡¯t happening¡­" He opened his eyes, and the owl was still there, studying him with those calm, knowing eyes. ¡°Greetings,¡± the owl said with an air of exasperation. ¡°I speak to you through the beats of your heart, though I must strain mine to reach you,¡± it continued, tilting its head slightly. Glida¡¯s legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. "This is absurd. Next, the tree¡¯s going to invite me to dinner or something." He muttered, looking away in disbelief. ¡°Oh, spare me your sarcasm,¡± the owl said, its feathers rustling in irritation. ¡°I couldn¡¯t endure your stupidity any longer, so here I am¡ªto set your foolishness out of here, though you amaze me sometimes with your pure heart.¡± ¡°Oh, how gracious of you,¡± Glida muttered, rolling his eyes. ¡°But as you see, there¡¯s no exit here. I¡¯ve looked everywhere ?¡± The owl sighed. ¡°That¡¯s because your heart is still tethered to those you leave behind. The gate will not open until you are free.¡± Its amber eyes narrowed as it continued. Then suddenly the deep voice snapped angrily, ¡°And you stupid imbecile¡ªhow could you ignore her?! The mother deer, waiting at the village entrance every single morning, calling for you. Every. Single. Morning.¡± The owl¡¯s voice seethed, a barely restrained fury vibrating through each word. ¡°How could you be so utterly blind to her calls?!¡± Glida¡¯s mouth fell open, shock written across his face as a pang of guilt twisted in his chest. His hands clenched, fingers digging into his palms as he absorbed the owl¡¯s words. The owl''s intense gaze softened, just a fraction. "The entire herd... they postponed their journey just so she could give you a final farewell. And you¡ª" the owl¡¯s voice softened even further, almost whispering, "You left her waiting." Glida could only stare, rooted to the spot. Angrily the owl continued "Go, what are you still doing" turning its head calmly at it detected a prey in the shadows "Say your goodbyes, and free your heart. Only then will you get the ticket to the other side. And perhaps, just perhaps, the gate will open for you." For a moment, Glida was silent, absorbing the owl¡¯s words. Then, as if breaking from a spell, he shot to his feet and dashed towards the village, his heart pounding with regret. Mother Deer¡­ I¡¯m so sorry¡­ He ran and ran, the chilly morning air biting at his cheeks as tears streamed down his face. Finally, he reached the edge of the village and there she was¡ªthe mother deer, waiting for him with her gentle, soulful gaze and warm antlers. His voice trembled as he knelt before her, the weight of regret heavy in his heart. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± he whispered, his breath hitching. ¡°Thank you.¡± He wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her close in a warm embrace. In that moment, he felt her breath mingle with his, their heartbeats syncing in a rhythm of shared understanding. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet bond between a boy and the creature he had long neglected though not forgot. ¡ª Love Story ¡ª As he released her, a warm glow spread through him, a quiet peace settling in his heart. She turned toward the forest and joined the pack to resume their journey, vanishing gracefully into the trees. Glida watched them disappear, a bittersweet smile on his face, before turning back to the village for one final visit, where his grandmother awaited him. Another hard goodbye awaits him. His heart, still tethered to the bonds of love that refuse to fade. That night, they gathered around the table for what felt like a precious eternity. The familiar aroma of home-cooked dishes wrapped around them like an old friend''s embrace, while laughter danced with their shared stories and whispered secrets. Each word, each glance, each moment bound them closer, as if trying to forge memories strong enough to span the coming distance. As the last morsels faded from their plates, she drew him into her trembling arms, her eyes a mirror of fierce pride swimming in barely contained tears. ¡°My dear one,¡± she breathed, her voice as delicate as autumn leaves in the wind, ¡°you have your path to follow, and though my heart aches to keep you close, I''ve no right to chain your dreams with my selfish desires.¡± Her voice carried the weight of a mother''s love and sorrow intertwined, while tears quivered at the brink of falling, catching the lamplight like precious gems. ¡°I''ll carry you in my heart, always,¡± he whispered back, his own voice thick with emotion as they shared one final, desperate embrace. The warmth of her love enveloped him like a protective cloak - a final gift of safety before he stepped into the waiting world. ¨C As dawn approached for another day, Glida stood in the darkness before the ruins for the last time -hopefully-, the old wooden gate in its deep center groaning opens at a light push of his hands. Beyond it, a field of beautiful wildflowers stretched before him, the galactic sky can be seen from the mostly fallen ceiling. Curiosity has sparked wars, love stories, science discoveries and rarely written grand adventures. Sometimes it leads to destruction and ashes, other times to joy and fulfillment. It is a risk one must take to gain its rewards. Love, though a bond hard to break, is never as wild as the yearning for freedom, which often requires chains to be broken before it can truly be embraced. Grandma¡¯s presence remains in his heart, eternal and unshakable, but the fire within him still burns, yearning to be quenched. He stepped forward, a dagger hanging at his side and a leather backpack strapped securely on his back, specially prepared for the journey ahead. He wore a dark robe with teal and orange accents layered over loose pants and red, slipper-like shoes. A burnt-orange cloak draped over his shoulders, while his familiar white scarf¡ªstill unchanged¡ªwrapped snugly around his neck. His beautiful dark hair cascaded down his back in a fishtail braid, carefully woven by his loving grandmother, a gesture that carried a piece of home with him into the unknown. ¡ª [Another free bird flutters its wings] a voice spoke to the cold night. 01.07 Some say the Earth is a ball floating in the void of space, spinning and dancing around the Sun. Others claim it is flat, the center of all existence, with the Sun as a blazing sentinel circling endlessly over its vast expanse. But who among us has truly seen the truth? Frankly, I don''t care. Yet, there¡¯s something undeniably romantic about the idea of the Sun¡ªa graceful dancer¡ªcircling around her partner, the Earth, whether it be flat or spherical. After all, who wouldn¡¯t enjoy having a dance performed just for them? This morning, at the very first light of dawn, our radiant Sun rose to resume her timeless performance. Jealous and possessive, she banished the stars that dared to linger, though a few stubborn ones clung to their place, defiant for now. Her warm rays spilled through the crumbling ceiling of ancient ruins, tenderly caressing the garden below¡ªa tapestry of vivid colors and hidden thorns, a masterpiece born from both love and pain. Enclosed by towering, weathered stone walls, the place exuded a serene, almost sacred beauty. A fragment of paradise, untouched by time. At the far end of the shadowed room, a man stood, shrouded in the remnants of the night. His presence was as striking as the view itself, his features quietly commanding, a perfect fit for the scene that surrounded him. Long silver-white hair cascaded down to his neck, contrasting with his light, dark skin. Crystal blue eyes pierced the shadows as he donned a white robe adorned with golden patterns. Beside him, two goats slept calmly on a bed of flowers, oblivious to the world and the dance of the sun. He stood there quietly, a stick in his right hand¡ªone might mistake him for a shepherd in a field of blossoms. His gaze rested on the wooden gate before him. Though he hadn''t been here before, something had called him to this place. Guests were expected today. "Creaaak." The old wooden gate groaned, its aged hinges announcing the arrival of a small boy. He entered cautiously, searching for something to happen. But no magical door or dragon greeted him¡ªjust the same simple field and broken ceiling as always. As he ventured further, he sensed a presence in the room. Even with his naturally sharp eyes, he couldn''t see the man hidden in the shadows. Perhaps his imagination was overflowing with strange ideas, causing him to overlook what was right before him. Surprisingly, the beautiful white goat rose and looked directly at the boy, its piercing eyes searching his inner soul. The man stood silently, his wise and handsome features contemplating the world. Meanwhile, the black goat continued to sleep, ignoring everything around it. "Excuse me, uhhh, sir," Glida asked with curiosity and caution, keeping his distance from the mysterious sondless figure. "Do you by chance know how I can get to the exit for the outer land?" The man glanced briefly at the goats and murmured, "So we have here a free thread." Returning his gaze to the boy, he announced in a commanding voice, "You are in the right place." Still confused after his fruitless experiences over the past days, Glida replied more respectfully this time, "But you see, mister, I keep coming here day after day and return home with nothing. Every day." A moment of silence passed between them, the two goats serving as silent, peculiar spectators. Then the man spoke calmly again: "That is because the threads were still entangled, and your heart was not yet free." "That''s exactly what the weird owl said yesterday!" the boy blurted out unintentionally. Ignoring the boy''s outburst, the man continued, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am the overseer of the gates, and they call me Azmeg. These two beautiful creatures are my companions and advisors." Embarrassed, the boy began to introduce himself. "Ah, sorry, I''m Glida, and¡ª" But the gentle man interrupted, "I know who you are." Silence fell once more. "You are here to lift the veil, to risk tarnishing your soul with foolish mortal desires. You seek to enter the world of corruption, following nothing but a mere sense of curiosity," Azmeg spoke, his words laden with mystery and riddles. Before the boy could utter a question, he added, "But I am in no position to block your way. After all, everyone has the right to follow their heart and accept the consequences of their actions." The romantic sun began to rise, casting its light upon the two solitary figures amidst the vast ruins, as if eavesdropping on their strange conversation. With a deep and concerned voice, Azmeg warned the boy, "But heed my words: you are about to pass through the gate and embark on a path of thorns. Do you still wish to see what lies behind the veil?" Without a moment''s hesitation, Glida replied firmly, "Yes, please!" Azmeg stepped forward and waved his stick in a circular motion, causing the very air around them to swirl. Flowers floated joyfully around the boy in a magical dance. He opened his hands to catch them, savoring the rare experience. As Azmeg moved the wooden stick in intricate patterns, he told him, "Be warned again: you will be led to where you need to go and where your heart wants you to be¡ªnot necessarily where you want to get to." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Before Glida could respond or ask what he meant, the air began to howl angrily around him. The floating flowers closed in, obscuring his view. In one last glimpse, he saw the goat staring at him with its mysterious eyes, piercing through the very fabric of existence. One moment he stood on soft, dewy flowers; the next, he lost all sense of gravity. His eyes burned with a sudden, intense light that consumed even the flowers around him. And then¡ªnothing. He found himself suspended in mid-air, his eyes searing with pain, his body turned upside down. Confusion overwhelmed him until he realized the truth: he was in open air, free-falling, his body gaining momentum as he plummeted toward the ground. A visceral fear seized him, cold and all-consuming. The wind roared past his ears, a deafening howl that drowned out all thought. His heart hammered wildly against his chest, each beat a desperate plea for salvation. He reached out instinctively, grasping at empty space, his fingers closing around nothing but air. His mind raced, a whirlwind of panic and disbelief. This couldn''t be happening. The ground below rushed up with alarming speed, every detail coming into sharp, unforgiving focus¡ªthe jagged rocks, the unforgiving earth awaiting his impact. A raw, primal scream tore from his throat¡ª"AaaAAaaAAAaaah!"¡ªlost in the cacophony of the wind. Time seemed to warp, each second stretching into an eternity of dread. His stomach lurched with a sickening twist, leaving him breathless. Waves of regret and longing flooded his mind¡ªa desperate yearning for the safety he had taken for granted, for the simplicity of moments just moments ago. In that harrowing descent, Glida felt utterly alone, engulfed by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. Every fiber of his being was consumed by the instinctual fear of impending doom, a terror so profound it eclipsed all else. The world above had vanished, and only the relentless pull of gravity and the inevitable collision below remained. ----------------------------- In a far away land, away from the miserable and helpess falling kid, away from the closed village and the weird dense forest. There is a land of rivers, where people lived and dies on water. Here is the famous kingdom of Rivers and Spring. A land connecting the two giant continents on this world. A realm of rivers where people live and die by the water''s edge. This is the kingdom connecting the two vast continents, and the most peaceful among the seven, thanks to its philosophy of harmony and its newly appointed young Prime Ambassador. The Riverfolk move with a grace that mirrors the flowing waters around them. Dressed in clothes dyed shades of blue and green, they wear the colors of their environment with pride. Fishermen cast their nets with practiced ease, while traders navigate the waterways, their boats loaded with spices, silks, and artifacts from distant lands. Children laugh as they play along the shores, their reflections dancing on the water''s surface alongside the playful shadows of darting fish. At the heart of their way of life is the concept of Flow¡ªthe belief that life, like water, should be adaptable and harmonious. Just as rivers carve paths through stone, they believe persistence and flexibility can overcome any obstacle. This mindset makes the River Kingdom the most tranquil among the six others. Conflicts are rare here, often resolved through negotiation and understanding rather than force. Words are their tools to bridge divides, much like the elegant bridges that connect the many islands and shores within their kingdom. --- The first light of dawn filtered through the curtains of Massi''s room, casting soft patterns on the wooden floor. He woke to the gentle sound of water lapping against the stone foundations of his home¡ªa comforting rhythm he had known all his life. Rising from his bed, he moved with the ease of someone used to navigating both the currents of the river and the complexities of conversation. Stepping onto the balcony overlooking the central canal of Whispering Waters, the capital city, Massi took a deep breath. The air was fresh with the scent of dew on lotus blossoms, mixed with a hint of rain from upriver. Below, the city was coming alive. Boats filled with fresh produce glided silently along the waterways. Early risers greeted each other softly, their voices blending with the murmur of the flowing river. Massi allowed himself a moment of quiet, observing the world he was so connected to. The people moved fluidly, their lives intertwined with the ebb and flow of the waters that sustained them. Diplomacy and adaptability were the lifeblood of this realm¡ªever-changing yet constant, just like the rivers themselves. His thoughts turned to the day ahead. Recently appointed as the youngest Prime Ambassador in the kingdom''s history, today was his first day stepping into a role that would shape the future of the River Kingdom. His youth brought fresh perspectives, and many within the Council of Currents hoped his leadership would invigorate their long-held diplomatic philosophy. This philosophy, embraced since the kingdom''s earliest days, was the cornerstone of their peace and prosperity. Returning inside, Massi dressed in his ambassadorial robes made of light silks in shades of emerald and silver, colors that echoed the play of sunlight on water. Each accessory was chosen carefully: a jade pendant symbolizing harmony and silver cuffs etched with flowing patterns representing continuity and change. As he walked through the corridors of the Hall of Tides, staff members bowed respectfully. Massi acknowledged them with a warm smile and a slight nod, embodying the Riverfolk''s blend of humility and quiet confidence. He was mindful of each gesture, knowing that even small actions could ripple outward, affecting perceptions and relationships. Stepping into the grand chamber where the council would convene, he was met by his aide, Lady Dihy Watersong, a skilled diplomat and musician. Her eyes reflected the calm confidence characteristic of their people. "Good morning, Prime Ambassador," Dihy greeted him softly. "The council members are gathering. They''re eager to hear your vision for the kingdom." "Thank you, Dihy," Massi replied. "Let''s our guests feel our waters." She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Your threads will set the flow for us all." Left alone for a moment, Massi glanced out at the river visible through the chamber''s arched windows. The water''s surface caught the morning light, shimmering with possibilities. Water¡ªever adaptable, ever persistent. Just like his approach to the challenges ahead. With a final deep breath, he moved toward his place at the council table. Each step was measured, each thought deliberate. The morning had just begun, but Massi was already engaging in the delicate balance between tradition and innovation¡ªa dance as intricate as the rivers that defined his homeland. As he took his seat among the seasoned council members, he felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders. Yet, there was also a current of excitement coursing through him. This was his opportunity to contribute to the Flow, to guide the River Kingdom toward a future where harmony prevailed not just within their own lands but as a beacon to the other kingdoms. "Let the waters flow," he said, his voice steady yet filled with quiet determination. The faces around the table turned toward him, a mix of curiosity and respect. Massi knew that navigating the inner politics of the council would require all the skills he had honed over the years¡ªempathy, insight, and the subtle influence that came so naturally to him. Today marked the start of a new journey, one where his actions could shape not only the destiny of his own people but perhaps even ripple out to the wider world. And like the rivers he so loved, Massi Nissa was ready to flow toward whatever horizon lay ahead. ¡ª- A new journey for two parallel souls, one with a diplomatic smile, and the other with fear breaking his heart in midair.