When he reopened his eyes, the sky above him was no longer the same.
A milky veil covered the vault of heaven, as though sunlight were filtering through liquid amber. The air was dense, almost sticky, and the smell — iron, resin, wet earth — crept into his lungs like a memory that refused to fade.
The memory of the Tree was still there, etched into his sight like a dream-seal: roots suspended in nothingness, voices without faces, and that pulse.
That deep, ancient pulse that seemed to rise from the very entrails of the world.
He stood up slowly, joints stiff, skin taut with shivers. He did not know how much time had passed. An hour? A century?
All around him, the forest was gone. Before him stretched a barren plateau, scattered with stones and fossilized trunks. In the distance, broken silhouettes of houses, the warped shadow of a bell tower.
An abandoned village.
Or perhaps the graveyard of a forgotten age.
He descended the slope that separated him from what remained of the settlement.
Each step lifted a gray dust that dispersed into the air and settled again with an almost liquid sound. No wind. No voices. Only his breath.
The houses were empty shells.
Peeling walls, collapsed roofs, doors ajar onto rooms devoured by silence.
There were no signs of violence. No fire, no sudden ruin.
Only absence.
As if life had evaporated, leaving behind nothing but a hollow echo.
He entered what must once have been a shop. The shelves, blackened by time, still held intact clay jars, arranged in perfect rows. No dust covered them, as though someone had set them there the day before.
The silence was unreal.
Alive, almost listening.
As he moved through the alleys, he felt the weight of invisible gazes. From time to time he spun around sharply. Nothing.
Then he saw it.
On a chipped rooftop, motionless like an ancient shadow, stood a hooded figure.
The cloak seemed to absorb the light, yet it radiated a cold, tangible presence.
It did not move. It did not speak. But it was watching him.
The boy held his breath, his heart slow and heavy.
And in that instant, the figure vanished — without a sound, dissolved as if into thought itself.
A tremor ran through his hands.
It was not fear. It was the awareness of being seen.
As though something, somewhere, was already waiting for him.
He continued walking until he reached a circle of black stones. At its center stood a broken column, covered in worn carvings: seven parallel lines, and upon them small marks resembling notes.
He brushed the stone with his fingertips.
Warm. Pulsing.
An almost imperceptible sound crossed his mind — a fragment of a broken melody.
His breath caught in his throat. He recoiled.
The sky was darkening, but it was not sunset.
It was something deeper, like a veil falling over the world.
When he tried to turn back, the village was no longer the same.
The streets seemed rotated, distorted, as though time had changed shape during his absence.
And then he saw her again.
The figure.
Closer now. At the far end of the road.
She did not speak.
But a voice — or perhaps a thought — made space inside him:
"Are you searching?"
He did not answer. But within himself, something said yes.
The being raised a hand and pointed toward the village exit.
Between two rock walls, a path opened like a cut in the earth.
It looked recent.
The boy stepped forward, and when he turned to thank her… there was no one there.
The path grew narrower.
The air changed, becoming clearer, drier.
When the sky finally opened before him, he saw a golden plain, and in the distance a solitary inn, half-ruined, its sign creaking in the wind.
He went inside.
The interior smelled of smoke and spices.
An old man behind the counter barely lifted his gaze.
"Were you looking for something?" he asked, as if he already knew the answer.
The boy remained silent.
Then he saw him.
Seated in a corner, his face partially hidden by a hood.
Kaelis.
His eyes were pale, narrow, precise as blades.
"If you've made it this far," he said in a low voice, "it means the Tree spoke to you."
The boy nodded.
Kaelis rose, letting his cloak slide over his shoulders.
"Then come. The road is long. And you, after all, are still searching."
He said nothing more.
They left together.
Outside, the wind had changed again.
It was no longer a breeze, but an ancient breath, as though it rose from the bowels of the world.
Kaelis's cloak moved like an extinguished flame in reverse, and his steps left footprints that the ground erased at once, as if to protect their path.
The boy followed him, closer this time, yet with instinctive respect.
Something within him trembled, but he did not know whether it was fear or reverence.
Kaelis never turned around.
"Do not look back," he finally said. "Whatever you feel… do not turn around."
The words slipped into the air like a thin blade.
They walked among rocks and corroded monoliths, until a distant sound rose from beyond the hills.
It was not a song.
It was a rhythm.
Ba-da-bum… cha… cha…
His blood ran cold.
There was no melody, yet there was meaning — as though each beat were a name spoken by something immense and unseen.
"Ignore it," Kaelis said.
But his tone, for the first time, was no longer entirely steady.
The path forced them to pass between two stone walls, tall and smooth like knives driven into the earth. Inside, the air was dense, unmoving, and the sound of their footsteps vanished, swallowed whole.
The boy felt that those walls were not watching them — they were listening.
As if they were memorizing the rhythm of their breath.
When they emerged, the world opened.
A sea of golden sand stretched to the horizon, dotted with broken towers, tilted domes, bridges suspended over nothing.
It looked as though an entire city had sunk beneath the sand, leaving only bones of stone as witnesses.
Kaelis stopped.
"The Desert of Visions," he murmured. "Every step here will take something from you, and give you something else. But what you lose… is not always less important than what you gain."
The wind shifted direction.
And the rhythm returned.
Closer.
Ba-da-bum… cha… cha…
It was everywhere — above, below, within the sand.
The boy felt it in his bones.
Kaelis shot him a quick glance.
"If you feel it too close… run. Don't ask why."
And together, without another word, they began their descent into the desert.
The sun was dying on the horizon.
And beneath its light, the world held its breath.