When Dinis turned eight years old, William could no longer ignore what everyone around them was already whispering. The boy's strength and agility were beyond common understanding for a child. He was as strong as an adult, even though he was still just a boy. For William, each display of these extraordinary abilities stirred a mix of pride and apprehension. His son seemed destined for something grand, perhaps even to become one of the Sentinels—the legendary warriors of humanity.
The Sentinels were enhanced humans, capable of physical and mental feats that surpassed ordinary limits. Since ancient times, they had defended humanity against hidden threats, creatures lurking in the shadows. Their ranks were carefully structured within a strict hierarchy, allowing the strongest to stand out and lead the newer ones.
The Sentinels were divided into ten known levels, with each level representing a significant advancement in mastering their abilities. The stages were composed of three phases: beginner, consolidated, and advanced. Upon reaching the peak of a stage, it was said that the Sentinel was "half a step to [name of the next rank]," almost ready to ascend to the next level. Until then, the known Sentinels had reached, at most, the level of Epic Sentinel. The other levels were whispered legends, stories meant to inspire new warriors.
William knew that if Dinis was indeed destined to become a Sentinel, his path would be filled with dangers. He had heard stories of battles fought against creatures of darkness, deadly fights, and ambushes in the shadows. His heart swelled with pride but also with fear. There was no way to protect Dinis from the risks he would inevitably face.
However, every time William tried to discuss the dangers with his son, Dinis remained impassive. The idea of confronting these threats seemed to excite him in a peculiar way, as if each danger were a promise of adventure.
One night, as William walked to Dinis's room to say goodnight, he noticed something strange. The door was ajar, and he could see his son standing motionless by the window, murmuring something softly. Approaching, he heard Dinis repeating a strange phrase, almost like a chant:
"From the shadows they will come, the shadows will take us..."
William frowned, feeling a chill run down his spine. He called his son gently, but Dinis did not react, continuing to murmur the words monotonously, as if in a trance.
"Dinis?" he called again, louder this time, but the boy seemed to be elsewhere, trapped in his own thoughts.
Cautiously, William placed a hand on Dinis's shoulder. The instant he touched him, the boy startled, as if awakening from a deep sleep. His eyes, usually calm, were wide with fear—an emotion William had never before seen in his son. Dinis was breathing heavily, his face pale and lost.
"Father..." Dinis whispered, his voice unsteady. "They... they are coming."
William tried to calm him, though a growing unease gnawed at his chest. He had never seen Dinis with that look, so fragile and frightened. Hugging his son tightly, William felt a wave of protection and concern he couldn't explain.
"Who is coming, Dinis?" he asked, his voice firm even though his heart was racing.
Dinis looked at him with an indecipherable expression—something between fear and acceptance.
"From the shadows... someone from the shadows is calling me."
The words etched themselves into William's mind like a dark omen. He knew there was something extraordinary and inexplicable about Dinis, something perhaps beyond his understanding and that, in some way, was drawing him toward a journey no one could prevent.