Hundreds of years ago, there was a village located between a chain of sharp and steep mountains, home to many secrets and mysteries that no one cared to unravel, precisely because there was no reason for such ambition, after all, the population of this peaceful village was safe under the mountain's blessing and they possessed a fertile and vast land, also thanks to the mountain's blessing, granting a long short, carefree life to all those who cherished the mountain, except for a certain boy.
The little boy was always curious to know what existed behind the damned mountains, which surrounded him without his consent, slowly suffocating him, preventing his exploration and his dreams of glory.
The little boy hated that arrogant chain that bound him. 'What right did she have to do this to me? Worse than a boring life is a life I didn't choose for myself.' He thought and thought and thought about it endlessly, thought that flooded his mind every hour, every day, every lunar cycle, serving as an antidote to the poison that corrupted everyone else's mind, making him glimpse the fearful truth, that the The mountain did not provide a blessing for him or anyone else, that was a curse, a curse he felt obliged to break free of.
Angry, the little one headed to the base of the mountain. His parents had long since stopped worrying about him when they realized that he despised everything that allowed them to survive in peace, but he didn't care, after all, how would those fools know how he felt when all they cared about was themselves? 'Salvation is individual' he had thought, and thus began his journey towards his salvation.
The closer to the base of the mountain and further away from the village he found himself, the more he noticed how different the place was from the village he lived in.
There was nothing in that place that he knew what it was, which was a place that had never been explored before, a fact that stirred his blood without him realizing it, making everything around him seem more alive, more colorful, more... unique. His indignation had long since dissipated, and in its place, only a pure feeling of joy, the kind only a child could generate, and with that, something woke up inside him.
'If only the base of the mountain is like this, imagine what lies beyond it.' He thought as he tried to get lost in the imagination of what was never seen.
He kept walking, and after times, times and years, without noticing his passage, he came to a narrow path that led to somewhere he couldn't see, but he wasn't fooled, he knew that was his goal, the way out.
He walked happily up the passage, until a decrepit old man with the breath of death in his mouth appeared.
His eyes were sunken and had a vacant look, and they didn't seem to reflect any light.His teeth were crooked and black, as if his hygiene was of no importance, or rather, had never been of importance to him.
His garments were a haughty crimson hue, their once illustrious and expensive fabric being found crumpled and dirty, as if a crowd had just run over it with muddy feet, and, as if to mock the man, tap dancing on top of her fragile body.
His posture was kept straight only by the rudimentary staff he had in his hand, but, above all, what caught the old man's attention were his sweet and gentle words, like a devil's whisper.
"Poor boy, you don't know that you have everything that could be considered a reason to envy anyone else, but you still don't see the value of things and throw everything aside, going in search of suffering. It's worth it trade safety for war, plenty for famine, health for sickness, or life for death for a measly dream of glory, little one?" Said the dirty old man in a clean tone, as if it was the most sensible thing to say.
"A life I didn't choose to live, an empty joy, an eternal stability, which of these things can anyone but a madman envy?" Said the boy with a raised eyebrow, confused. "I, and I alone, will be responsible for my choices, no matter the outcome, as long as the choice is mine."
A beautiful song was being played, and the old man knew it, and like a good maestro, he conducted the orchestra.
"What do you have to live on in the world beyond this wee stone expanse?" He said with an ugly smile on his face, his fetid black mouth now distorted.
"My glory will be a source of security for me, putting an end to wars." said the little one as he confidently walked towards the old man, not retreating a single step, after all, how could he go back after having come so far?
"My imagination will provide plenty, putting an end to hunger and thirst." He continued reciting in a trance, lost in the future, forgetting the present.
"My curiosity will guide me in the search for knowledge, being the nemesis of any evil that may exist." His baritone was dignified, as if just uttering such heresies was enough for them to come true.
The Old Man, after a few moments of silence, laughed.
"Your insolence is not the antithesis to death it seems, don't you think, little one? Therefore, you must return whence you came and never set foot here again."
"You are mistaken, O devil." said the little one, "Death is a choice, and I being the king of them, I can simply choose not to die." He said with a smile on his face.
With those words spoken, the boy took a step forward, hoping to cross the narrow passage, only to be stopped by the old man for the last time.
"You really are a beautiful song in this tiny silent world, but are you really going to keep it that way? I'll just tell you, the final act of every song is the hardest part to play." The old man's voice could be heard, but he was nowhere to be seen, as if his voice were the voice of all things.
The boy pretended to ignore the old man's words as he took his final step, but he certainly didn't miss the last words of the one who freed him.
...
Surrounded by several books on a simple wooden table, a boy could be seen closing a now worn book, as if it were a work of art very cherished by all.
The books surrounding it also had a somewhat worn look, but not on the same level as the book just read, as if they were just minor characters in the grand scheme of things.
The erudite boy, who had the look of having spent several sleepless nights, highlighted even more by his dark circles under his eyes and natural messy hair, had a badge made of poorly carved wood with lazy, curved letters that spelled out a simple name, Danael, gave a last look at the book.
"It is no wonder that the classics that the churches wrote are so sought after, they are really a great source of information about their gods, a pity that no one knows the true meaning of anything that was told, because each word has a hidden meaning ." He said, sighing. "At least the Fate God church's tale was easy to obtain, I don't even want to imagine the price of other churches' divine tales." A chill ran down his spine.
Rising from his desk, he saw that it was almost dark. "I think it's close to time for the library to close its doors, better get everything in order before that old crow comes cawing about how miserable his life is."
The books he picked up were mostly literature, staying in the same section.When he was close to finalizing the organization of the books he had taken on their respective shelves, a strange book caught his attention.
The book had a beautiful royal purple cover, with an intricate toxic green vein pattern, giving it a lush appearance. 'In nature, the more vibrant the colors, the more poisonous the animal is.' He thinks to himself on a certain level of trepidation, reluctant to speak his thoughts aloud for fear that if anyone overhears him, they'll give him a questioning look for comparing a book to a venomous animal.
After a moment of contemplation, his rational side winning over his instinctive one, he finally picks up the book.The cover has a thick texture, and the veins he noticed earlier are prominent, generating agony just holding the book.
Ignoring the discomfort, he searches for a title, finding it on the cover of the book, written in gold letters.
'Iliakós Apogonos' he recited in his mind, finding it strange that the book was written in the ancient language of the Hellenes. 'The Hellenes were a prominent people in the third period, famous for literature and rune writing, but were made extinct by the believers of the Goddess of Emotions for some reason which they refuse to divulge.'
The time Danael lived in was full of people skeptical and gloomy about the future, choosing to believe that the gods had abandoned them and that everything was futile, earning it the name of the Dark Age, or for specific people, the sixth period of the golden calendar.
'That's not important now, not even how that old book ended up here, all I know is that I have to go to the orphanage before it gets completely dark, or else I'll have to sleep on the street.' Danael thought, choosing to tuck the book into its worn leather bag quickly rather than report that he had taken it to the old man who takes care of the library, after all, he always takes good care of the books he borrows.
After exiting the run-down old library and tucking the poorly made badge into his pocket, Danael notices that the sky is now a shade darker than before, and then he begins to run at a normal pace, the rhythmic click of his shoes echoing through the air of the streets.
As he ran nimbly through the streets bathed in a fading sunset, he took in the scenery of such dead beauty as he became nostalgic for the illustrious past he experienced before the onset of the Dark Ages. The busy streets full of blankets are now nothing more than a large open space, as if to further enhance the empty space. The houses that were once synonymous of happiness are now nothing more than ruins on the ground, and those that are still standing have lost their luster, and can be compared to any dull gray stone.
The city's residents had long since become accustomed to living in this destroyed scenario, not caring a bit about the appearance of things or their state, as if all that mattered to them was the need to continue in misery, suffering, in decay.
Danael just couldn't understand them, considering them a bunch of blind people who didn't see the main point, just as they couldn't understand Danael, asking him what the need was to see the main point of a world as dirty as this one.
Not wanting to lose momentum thinking about unnecessary things, he just ignored it all, and preferred to focus on the path in front of him.
Running without breaking a sweat, in an instant he arrives at the huge gate of the 'orphanage', which, by the way, was already closing. He managed to enter that detestable place under the glare of the angry guard because he was delaying his rest, but he didn't care and kept walking.
That place was a kind of refuge for children before, where they enjoyed care and the possibility of a better future, but now it seems that its entire function has been inverted, being nothing more than a roof where they lived together with all the other people with which he didn't mind, all but one.
'A pity that Sairon is traveling, I can't stand to live with these people who hate me anymore.' Danael thought resentfully that his brother had never taken him on his travels, claiming he wasn't mature enough yet.
Under the eyes of all those good-for-nothings, he went straight to the room that he usually shared with his brother when he was in town, and, after entering it, he locked the door and set the traps that his brother taught him to make in case someone manage to break down the door sneakily, after all, that place was not so reliable.
After finishing, Danael sat on his bed and removed the strange book from the bag and threw it aside, paying full attention to the strange object in front of him.
Illuminated by the lights coming from the candles scattered around the room, the book gained a cozy appearance that became uncomfortable when its touch reminded him of the veins, making the atmosphere of the room strange to the extreme.
Without further ado, he opened the book.
The first page of the book looked like a dedication written in a language Danael didn't know, which he found odd since the title on the cover was written in Hellenic. He ignored it for the time being and turned the page, catching the blade of the page, which by the way was very sharp and ended up cutting his finger perfectly, staining the blade of the book with a small stain of blood.
Danael was too absorbed in the atmosphere that bordered on the profane to be concerned about the tiny, insignificant pain in his finger, and when he saw the contents of the second page, he recited it without realizing it.
"So that your servants
May, from the bowels
flutes resound
Your admirable deeds
embrace the sin
welcome the blessing
Of these impure souls
that my dream
and your will
So be it done."
After that, darkness reigned.