My existence was a long, tranquil river, so tranquil its waters seemed stagnant. I had never accomplished anything notable, preferring the cozy shadow of anonymity to the tiring brilliance of action
Btw That's what I told myself every time I struggled to progress in Hollow Knight.
I was neither a fool nor a genius, but this very mediocrity defined me better than any character trait. It was my natural habitat, a comfortable burrow where days stretched out, identical, forming a monotonous chain where every link was called boredom.
Even in my appearance I was completely normal. At 1.86m I didn't look particularly striking, especially since I had a relatively slim build, weighing 69 kilos. My warm, dark skin and greenish-brown eyes made me, at the very least, quite attractive, even though I never had a girlfriend.
That day was no exception to the rule. The sky had that leaden color typical of endless autumn afternoons.
As I was coming home from school, I was thinking about how I was going to finish my game.On my way home, however, an unusual glow caught my eye, cutting through the ambient greyness. A shop, where I had never seen one before, seemed about to open. Its window, still bare, emitted a warm light that seemed to come from within the walls themselves. A dying curiosity stirred within me. I pushed the door open.
The interior was a cabinet of curiosities transcended by dream. The space, though narrow, seemed infinite, so crammed was it with objects defying all classification. There were instruments of organic shapes, crystals pulsing with mineral life, geographical maps of imaginary continents. My mind stumbled, unable to find references to describe this oddity. Then, my gaze was captivated.
Resting on a worn velvet display stand, a sphere radiated. It was scarcely larger than an agate marble, but in its heart swirled a miniature firmament. Stardust danced there, trapped in a lattice of amber light and violet shadow. Its beauty was so perfect, so absolute, that it became painful. I couldn't tear my eyes away.
"Young man, I see the Sphere of Destiny finds favor in your eyes."
The voice, cracked but full of a tranquil authority, made me jump. I turned around. An old woman stood there, so petite she had to stand on tiptoe to reach my shoulder. Her face was an apple wrinkled by winters, but her eyes, jet black, sparkled with surprising vitality. She stood straight, without a cane, dressed in a long black robe that resembled a piece of night fallen into the room. She was adorned with jewelry like a Christmas tree: rings on every finger, bracelets stacked up to her elbows, layered necklaces that tinkled softly at her slightest movement. Their glitter was so intense I blinked.
A laugh burst from my lips, too loud, almost insulting in the religious silence of the place. "The Sphere of Destiny? Sounds like a prop from a Z-grade movie! You're trying to sell me dreams for a gold price, is that it?"
Her eyebrows, as fine and white as down, furrowed. "Keep your sarcasm for the street, insolent youth! This object is capable of miracles, but it only gives itself to the one it has chosen. And I see it hasn't even recognized you yet."
Her indignant tone made me smile wider. "Listen, granny, the old 'magic product invisible to the non-chosen' trick is as old as the world."
A glint of defiance lit up in her dark gaze. "You don't believe me? Very well. Go outside. Ask any passerby to describe what you are holding. You'll see."
She crossed her arms over her chest, adopting a posture of defiance. Amused, and a little annoyed by her confidence, I picked up the sphere. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, and an imperceptible vibration seemed to travel up my arm. I went out onto the sidewalk.
A hurried man was pulling up his coat collar against the wind. I stepped in his path. "Excuse me! Can you tell me what I'm holding in my hand?"
He cast a quick glance at my open palm, then at my face, with the exasperated expression of someone encountering a weirdo. "Listen, I don't know if this is a hidden camera or some nonsense, but I have better things to do than describe emptiness." He walked away briskly.
A small shiver ran down my spine. I tried my luck with a woman looking at a bakery window. "Excuse me, ma'am, could you describe the object I have here?"
She squinted, seemed to make a sincere effort, then gave a perplexed shrug. "Well... your hands? They're... clean?" She looked at me with growing concern before moving on as well.
I stood on the sidewalk for a moment, my heart pounding. Was this an elaborate scam? A sophisticated con with accomplices? But the truth, immediate and dizzying, imposed itself on me: they saw nothing. Nothing at all.
I went back into the shop, the sphere clutched to my chest like loot. The old woman was waiting, a barely contained smile of satisfaction on her lips. The triumphant gleam in her eyes was almost unbearable.
"So? Convinced?"
I lowered my gaze, shame and excitement mingling in a strange cocktail. "I... I don't know. I want to show it to people I know, to be sure. How much? How much do you want for it?"
Her smile softened, becoming almost maternal. "Take it. It's a gift. You are my first customer; it's an honor."
I stared at her, dumbfounded. "Seriously?"
"Go away before I change my mind."
I turned around, still in shock, when one last question came to me. "And if it works... how do you make the wish?"
Her voice reached me, clear and suddenly imbued with a new gravity. "It will not give you what you want, but what you need. And there is a price to pay."
A price. The words resonated in the silence. "A price? What kind of price?"
"You will discover it when the time comes!"
"That's very reassuring, thank you!" I retorted sarcastically.
But the curiosity and this new certainty that of being the sole witness to a miracle were stronger than distrust. I turned my back on the shop and its enigmatic guardian and disappeared into the already dark streets.
The sphere, nestled deep in my pocket, radiated a constant warmth. For the first time in years, the monotony of my existence had been fractured. Not by a grand event, but by a mystery. A mystery that weighed as much as a miniature universe and whose unknown price now hung over my future like a Sword of Damocles. But tonight, on my way home, I was no longer quite the same. I was the one carrying a secret. The one who, perhaps, had just signed a pact with destiny.