Fernando Venhorst
A tear slowly ran down Fernando's pale face. Before it fell to the floor, he reached out and caught it with his fingertips. He sighed. How long had it been since he had felt such profound melancholy?
The office was completely silent. Only Fernando remained there, lost in thought. How was it possible that his greatest dream and his worst nightmare threatened to come true on the same day, at the same moment?
Sighing bitterly, he remembered the past, how difficult it had been to make Catherine his wife—and what she had sacrificed so that they could be together. Now, against all odds, even when her body was no longer able to bear it, perhaps she would bring a new life into the world. Perhaps, at this very moment, she was giving birth.
But what would happen if this gift were accompanied by an irreparable loss?
When a child loses its parents, it becomes an orphan. But when a parent loses a child, what would you call that pain?
Fernando was not a pessimistic man by nature, but when faced with these situations, he felt a fear that consumed him. Would he lose not only his son, but also his beloved wife?
Catarina Venhorst
Lying in bed, wrapped in white silk sheets, Catarina felt the tears streaming down her haggard face. Her skin, once radiant, now had a light gray tone, as if life was slowly fading away. She knew it. At any moment, she could leave.
After two pregnancies, Catarina did not dare believe that this time would be different.
Those were years of suffering, of helplessness in the face of the little lives that were fading away in her arms. But, five years later, she smiled again. She dreamed again. And now, ironically, it was at this moment that death called her.
There was nothing more that could be done. Even so, she wanted, with all her strength, to resist. Just a little longer. Just long enough to bring that child into the world, to deliver it to Fernando's arms.
She knew how much her husband loved her. She knew that if he lost not only his wife but also his son, he might never recover.
Even after a life of trials, Catherine felt grateful. Fernando had been her home, her friend, her love. However, when she thought of those she would leave behind, her heart sank. Finally, through her tears, she wondered if her children would mourn her departure.
John Venhorst
Deprived of his senses and plunged into an unknown state, John felt enveloped by absolute darkness. In order for a living being to establish contact with the world, it was first necessary to develop its sensory organs, awakening the senses that would allow it to interact with reality.
Hearing, touch, smell, taste and sight. For a human being, the world was limited to these five senses. If someone lost all of them, it would be as if existence ceased to exist.
The human soul of Earthlings was fragile, incapable of subsisting on the material plane without a body to serve as its refuge. But what would happen if a body lost its soul? To answer this question, consider the following: if a pilot jumped out of a helicopter without a parachute, what would become of his means of transportation? And of the pilot himself?
When John's soul was sucked into a dimension where time did not exist, it became impossible to determine whether he was before or after known reality.
Time, for the living, was like an intricate web of intertwined threads. Each human being, throughout his or her existence, wove new threads with each decision made. With an average life expectancy of 85 years, a single individual could create more connections than there are stars in the Milky Way.
Abruptly, some of John's senses returned. At the moment, only two: sight and tattoo.
As he looked around him, he saw what could be described as a vast ocean stretching to the horizon. The crystal-clear water seemed endless, reflecting a spectral light in all directions.
Near him floated something peculiar—an egg about a meter in size. Its crimson color contrasted with the transparency of the ocean and the translucent form of John's soul.
It was then that you saw your own appearance. A chill ran down your spine. Your body was now that of a baby, still attached to an intact umbilical cord. Even turning your head seemed impossible; if you weren't floating, you definitely wouldn't have the strength to move your tiny body.
John cursed his luck.
Shortly before, he had been in the middle of a mission to the Pyramids of Success when a spherical artifact exploded. In an act of sacrifice to protect his companions, he had been delivered into the unknown. And now, here he was— a drifting specter, trapped in a child's body.
His eyes, still confused, turned to the egg before him. How could that artist follow him there, even after death?
And, most importantly...
What did that cause?
If this was what a soul truly looked like, then why did he still have his memories? His brain had been destroyed, shattered into a thousand pieces along with his body. And yet, there he was, conscious, lucid, deep in thought.
Could the dead possibly be in the running for a Nobel Prize? If there were some way to convey what John was experiencing firsthand— as a rudimentary but revolutionary study—he would undoubtedly win the award.
Given the nature of his job, John had always imagined that the likelihood of dying on the job was high. It was part of the risk. But he never imagined it would happen so soon. According to his calculations, he was only six months away from turning 26 and ten years into his career.
And now... it was all over.
Tears of sadness rolled down his childish face as he thought of his sister— his only family. What would become of her? The fate of his companions was also uncertain. Would they have survived?
It was only a week before his sister's 17th birthday, and he had planned to buy her a special gift in Angola, since his mission was in Africa. But instead, there he was... dead .
At least money wouldn't be a problem. His division would ensure that she would lack nothing. But that didn't ease her worry. Besides him, there was no one else to support her. Her aunt and uncle? John felt angry just thinking about that couple. They were far from an option.
Because of the dangers of his profession, he never considered marriage. He didn't want to leave anyone a widower. If he ever married, it would be after he was thirty— and even then, with the permission of his department. But most of all, he would have liked to have lived long enough to see his sister grow up, to walk her down the aisle.
He took a deep breath. Or at least tried to, because in that state he didn't even have lungs.
He suppressed the emotions that, ironically, belonged to a heart that no longer existed. He needed to focus on the present. Not that I was betting.
Unfortunately, John had gone beyond the bounds of conventional science. He now found himself in a realm where only metaphysics and religion could offer answers. If there was any rational explanation for his situation, it was beyond human knowledge.
Compiling what he knew from these two fields, he came up with some possible tips:
First: It was only a matter of time before his soul dissipated completely, erasing his existence forever.
Second, you could be about to transcend into a higher plane of existence, something like a fifth or sixth dimension.
Third, perhaps he was in a type of purgatory, awaiting judgment before being sent to heaven or hell.
Fourth: He could be reborn. Not necessarily as a human – he could come back as an animal, a plant... or , if he was lucky, as a human being again.
There was also quantum mechanics. Perhaps it could offer some explanation for the characteristics I was experiencing. However, this area of knowledge was too volatile to provide certainty. There was too much...
The uncertainty was vast, a myriad of possibilities unfolding in his mind. However, John did not have the knowledge necessary to speculate on the mysteries of quantum mechanics. This field of knowledge remained beyond his reach.
Fernando Venhorst
Meanwhile, on another plane of existence...
Fernando walked steadily through the silent corridor of the castle. His destination was the room where his wife was staying. Upon entering, I found Ceto – his most trusted man. Administrator and, curiously, butler of the Plain Castle, where the Venhorst family resides. Beside him, two women were waiting.
The first, the head housekeeper, bowed slightly upon seeing him, offering him a respectful greeting. The second, a female mage, waited with a serious expression, holding in her hands the diagnosis of Catherine's condition.
"My lord," the mage began, her voice thick with caution, "your wife's condition remains critical."
Fernando did not respond immediately. His jaw tightened, his eyes falling on Catarina, lying on the large bed with white sheets. Her pale face betrayed the wear and tear of her condition.
— Continue — he tried, his voice deep and controlled.
The witch nodded before the obligation:
— Your wife's cells are aging at an abnormal rate. Even when they regenerate, the new ones are already worn out, and their aging is even faster than that of the previous ones.
Fernando clenched his fists. Nothing was new to him. For nine months, I had done everything in my power to keep Catarina and the child alive. But at what cost?
As the lord of the territory, he possessed vast resources. However, maintaining a constant consumption of magic cores throughout the gestation period would drain the domain's finances considerably.
Catarina needs at least ten cores a day to stay stable. During her entire pregnancy, she consumed around 2,700 cores – the equivalent of 60% of the entire territory's annual income. But money was never a concern for Fernando when it came to his family.
The cores were spheres the size of a child's fist, concentrating an immense amount of energy with unique properties. Extracted from evolved beasts, they contained the condensed power of those creatures.
Currently, the cores were interested in a magical matrix – an intricate pattern of arcane circuits capable of modifying energy flows and interfering with matter.
Such arrays were highly volatile and complex, requiring skills that Fernando, as a warrior, did not possess. For this reason, he hired specialized magicians to operate them. And this did not come cheap. The payment of the three magicians responsible for operating the array over the nine months represented 10% of the territory's annual income.
He moved from the bed, watching Catarina with a look of concern. It would be best if she spoke as little as possible to conserve energy. All the life force coursing through her body was artificially sustained by the magical matrix.
A slight noise in the hallway cut through the silence of the room.
Ceto, always attentive, turned to Fernando and inclined his head before saying:
— My lord, the envoys from the capital have arrived.
Fernando looked away from Catarina and took a deep breath. He had expected this.
But I wasn't ready for what was coming next.
Receiving the Sent Ones
— Very well, sending them to you personally.
Fernando kissed Catarina's cold forehead before standing up. He looked at the witch and tried:
— Continue with your work. If there is any change in her condition, let me know immediately.
The head housekeeper nodded with a discreet bow.
Fernando left the room accompanied by Ceto. As he walked through the castle corridors, the lord tried to organize his thoughts. The arrival of the ships from the capital was an expected event, but given the circumstances, everything seemed even heavier.
In the great hall, the light from the crystals flickered softly, casting shadows across the stone walls. As he passed through the double doors, Fernando felt a rare break in consciousness when he saw who was leading the group.
— Mr. Geremias ! — he greeted , opening a genuine smile.
The man in front of him returned the greeting with the formal bow of nobility. His eyes carried a gleam of mixed joy and concern.
— Lord Fernando , it is a pleasure to finally see you again after so many years.
Fernando nodded, his smile carrying a touch of nostalgia.
— Indeed, my old friend. It has been ten years since our last adventure together. I have sent important invitations since then, but I understand that your position has kept you busy. Still, I am immensely pleased to have you here today.
As they walked into the castle, Jeremiah sighed.
—It's not like I don't want to visit you, but things in the capital are getting more and more turbulent. The Society of Arcanists hardly gives me a moment of peace.
Fernando understood immediately. He was well informed about the events in the capital, thanks to the frequent reports his father sent to the family residence.
—Imagine the pressure you'll face—he replied seriously.
They walked through the crystal-lit stone corridors, the echoes of their footsteps echoing off the polished floor. Although there was much to be planned, the urgency of the situation led them straight to the room where Catarina was listed.
As they entered the room, Geremiah stopped abruptly, shock written all over his expression.
— Catarina! What happened?!
Fernando watched as his friend stared at the woman who had once been full of vitality. Now, pale and worn out, Catarina was but a shadow of the radiant young woman Geremias had known.
It took Fernando nearly two hours to explain everything— from the beginning of the pregnancy to the last nine months of struggle and sacrifice. The air in the room seemed to grow heavy with each detail shared.
In the days that followed, Jeremiah lived in the castle, monitoring the situation closely. Then, on the morning of the fourth day of his stay, the tension reached its peak.
Catarina's water broke.
Labor will begin.
The room became a scene of urgency and expectation. The parts moved quickly as the mage monitored the flows of life energy. Sweat dripped down Catarina's forehead, her breath coming in short gasps from the pain.
— Strength... push and breathe.
The words were repeated like a mantra.
— Strength... push and breathe.
Fernando held his wife's hand, his eyes steady, but the tension visible in every muscle of his body.
— Strength... push and breathe.
— Strength... push and breathe.
The parties repeated the same command, their voices firm but urgent. The room was thick with tension, the air heavy with heat and the smell of sweat.
Fernando, positioned next to his wife, operated the Matrix of Life, the only thing that still kept Catarina and the child breathing. Sweat dripped from his forehead, but he ignored it, focusing on the complex web of arcane circuits that glowed around him. Catarina, even out of breath and visibly exhausted, smiled as she met her husband's gaze. Her voice was choked, but full of emotion. "Our son... ours... is coming." His words repeated like a sacred chant, a thread of hope in the midst of the storm. The old magical matrix was no longer enough. The increased consumption of vital energy to sustain the birth made its operation impossible. That was why Geremias and his men were there—to activate an even more complex matrix, capable of projecting ten authors, including Fernando. He was not a magician, but his spiritual power was exceptional. Guided by Geremias, he channeled his strength into the matrix while feeling the flow of energy vibrate around him. Catarina opened her hand tightly, her face contorted in pain.
"Fernando…" Geremias called, his voice heavy with gravity.
Something wasn't right.
The unexpected happened.
Catarina's vitality began to drain at an even faster rate, far beyond the capacity of the matrix. The arcane patterns shone brightly, then wavered. Fernando's face tightened as he felt the energy cores rapidly depleting.
The decision he feared most was now before him.
His heart felt like lead in his chest.
Save his wife… or the child?
Caught between a rock and a hard place, Fernando Venhorst faced the moment that would define the rest of his life.
End of chapter.