On one of my many trips across the continent, I met a young man. He couldn't have been more than twelve years old, but his gaze was that of someone who had already lived more than one life. There was a strange, serene wisdom about him. He didn't hesitate when he spoke or walked; he carried no doubts or regrets, but he wasn't impulsive either. He was simply steadfast like someone who knows the way, even if no one has shown it to him.
Moved by curiosity, I asked him:
—"Aren't you afraid of making mistakes? Of living without doubt?"
He smiled calmly and answered as if the question were as obvious as breathing.
—"Tell me, Mr. Traveler... do you hesitate when you breathe? Do you hesitate when your heart beats?"
—"Just as my body acts without thinking, so do I. Because I know what my purpose is. And I know where I must go."
I was silent, impressed. That boy spoke with the certainty of someone who has known the world in its many forms.
—"Where did you get those ideas?" —I asked him.
He looked at me as if he'd told the answer a thousand times before, and with a gesture, he asked me to sit down.
—Listen. I'll tell you a story.
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—A few months ago, he said, I was playing alone in the woods and wandered off without realizing it. When night fell, I was lost. Everything was shadows, and every sound in the trees chilled my blood. Then I saw them: a pair of glowing eyes in the darkness—a wolf.
I ran without looking back, away from that ferocious beast. I went deeper into the woods until I stumbled upon a small cave. There, next to a dim campfire, stood a woman.
Tall. With a serene demeanor. She wore a black blindfold over her eyes, made of a fabric so delicate it looked like smoke intertwined with stars. She was beautiful, like a fairytale princess, one my mother used to tell stories about.
—Are you a fairy?—I asked without thinking.
She smiled. She gently touched the log where she was sitting and gestured for me to come closer. I hesitated for a moment, but her presence didn't inspire fear... but a profound calm. I sat down beside her.
—"Is she lost too?"— I asked, looking at the sky through the cave opening.
Her smile turned strange. There was nostalgia on her lips. Then she spoke. Her voice wasn't entirely clear, but it seemed familiar, like a song that's been forgotten but whose melody still vibrates in my bones.
—"Are you afraid?"
I nodded, almost involuntarily.
—"What are you afraid of?"
I looked at her. Her eyes were hidden behind the blindfold, but entire constellations flickered in them. And something else... something dark that moved behind the cloth, coming closer and further away, as if it contained an abyss.
—"Darkness,"— I replied.
She let out a small laugh, soft as a breeze.
—"And why are you afraid of it?"
I didn't know what to say.— "Are you afraid of what's inside her... or of her?"
I nodded again.
Then she raised her head and looked up at the sky, though her eyes were still covered.
—"Darkness is not your enemy. It is the cradle of dreams. The mother of rest. It is the blanket that envelops the world when the light fades. If you look at it closely... you'll see that it also smiles. With stars."
—"But... I'm afraid of disappearing inside her."
She remained silent. Then, looking at the stars through her blindfold, she whispered:
—"Where the light shines brightest... There is a king."
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Once upon a time, there was a shepherd boy whose fame spread far and wide, thanks to the wise answers he offered to every question asked.
—"My lord has gone mad. What he seeks is not treasure or a kingdom to conquer. It is madness, death without end. If he persists, he will unleash the worst of calamities upon this world."
A figure rose, imposing like no other. Seated on a throne that was more altar than seat, wrought in gold and surrounded by jade, the king looked like a living statue of arrogance and power. Behind him rose his castle: a palace so large and majestic that it seemed designed to enclose heaven itself. And yet, despite all its splendor, the monarch lay bored, almost languid, on his throne, as if the magnificence of the world was no longer worthy of his attention.
He was the greatest king of his age. A conqueror whose empire stretched far beyond the eye, across skies, seas, and deserts. A merchant whose gold overflowed the coffers of the world, so vast that even the gods murmured his name in envy and curse.
—"Do you doubt me, Il-Nas?"— his voice boomed like suppressed thunder.— "You have grown arrogant with the passage of time."
The advisor, who had dared to question him, shuddered. Terrified, he only managed to give a trembling bow before withdrawing silently.
—"Do any of you,"— the king said disdainfully, scrutinizing his ministers,— "plan to follow the coward's example?"
No one responded. No longer out of fear, but out of certainty: that king had achieved the unthinkable a thousand times over. Who would be foolish enough to contradict him now?
Then the king stood up. He walked with the steadiness of a veteran who has faced hundreds of battles and approached the window of his palace. He looked out over his vast domain and sighed… a long, weary sigh.
—"You don't understand… You don't see it as I see it. My kingdom is the greatest that will ever exist. I have not lost a single battle. The gods kneel before me. What else is left? What purpose remains for the invincible? I am glory incarnate."
Silence thickened in the room. Perhaps out of fear, perhaps out of respect… No one dared to speak.
Until, from a corner, a scribe timidly raised her voice.
—"Your Majesty… Brightest star of the kingdom… You still have something no one has conquered. Something you cannot have, not you or anyone else."
The king slowly turned toward her. His gaze pierced her like a knife. The scribe paled, but she remained steadfast. He cleared his throat and, with a tremor of boldness, continued:
—"Forgive this humble subject for his boldness. But even you have not conquered death. You have not vanquished time. Nor have you subdued oblivion. Your kingdom may encompass the sky and the stars, the land and the sea. Your name will be sung, yes. But your existence… will fade, like everything else."
Then the king smiled. And in that smile, there was something different: excitement. A new gleam in his eyes. For the first time in years, someone had given him a challenge he could not see, touch, or crush.
He laughed and laughed again, more joyfully than he had ever laughed in his life.
—"You are right, Vargthral. And I suppose… You know how to help me, do you not? You did not tell me this just for empty words…"
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Then he said to her, "If you can answer three questions I will ask you, I will consider you as my son, and you will live with me in my royal palace."
Back then, I was nothing more than a wall of stone. A shadow in the crowd.
Someone who stood out only because of the blindfold over his eyes; someone you might recognize as you passed by… but would forget as soon as you turned around. That was me. I wandered the world without destination or purpose, and, may I add, completely bankrupt.
I used to take advantage of every capital on the continent of Teralkaar to perform in plazas and collect a few coins in exchange for my music. It was in the year 15,432, after the fall of the Thousand Empires, that I heard rumors about the "greatest king of all!" In my opinion, an arrogant bastard, but curiosity moved me. So I headed to that famous kingdom.
Disappointing, to say the least. I won't deny that its streets were beautiful, unique even. But to proclaim itself the greatest for having shining marble and singing fountains… well. I was wandering through the alleys when, out of necessity rather than inspiration, I decided to play some music.
I approached the square, took out my instrument—a lyre handcrafted by an unparalleled craftsman (me, obviously)—and began to play. A story turned into a song. One of my favorites. Whenever I played it, it slipped into every fiber of my being, as if it were a part of me. I'd get lost in my thoughts, forget the present. I'd play for a few minutes… and before I knew it, the entire afternoon would slip away.
This time was no different. By the time I opened my eyes, the sun was setting below the horizon, between distant mountains and the endless sea. But what truly surprised me was the crowd. A mountain of people surrounded me, clapping enthusiastically. Families, lovers, children, and the elderly… all listening to me as if they'd been waiting for that melody their whole lives.
Then, a figure made its way through them. She was wearing an elegant robe and holding a book. Probably a court scribe, I thought. She approached me, excited, and asked where I had learned that song. She claimed the melody was unique, a gem from a forgotten age. Of course, I completely tuned out. I was in no mood for praise or analysis.
I continued on my way through streets that were already emptying, completely ignoring the annoying figure that followed me like my shadow. That scribe kept asking questions.
Exasperated, I stopped.
—"Don't you have better things to do?"— I snapped.
She, on the other hand, looked at me as if she'd just seen a star fall from the sky.
—"What do you want?"— I persisted.
—"I saw your performance. It was incredible. Where did you learn that song? Why are you wearing that blindfold? Who were the lyrics about? You're not from this kingdom, are you? Where are you from?" Before she could unleash another barrage of questions, I raised my hand and gently placed it over her mouth.
—"I'll answer whatever you need... But I need a place to stay. And silence. Silence, for the gods."
She looked at me, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as if I'd just granted a wish.
—"You can stay with me. I have plenty of room. And you'll be able to answer my questions comfortably."
I sighed. I had no better option. So I followed her silently, wondering—not for the first time—if I was making another one of my endless mistakes.