The finally condensed darkness shaped itself into a black shadow, floating above the ground with an overwhelming presence. The form it took was a fusion between the ethereal and the terrifying; its body was an absolute void, non-physical, yet enveloped in a dense red aura that pulsed slowly, as if it were the very heart of the shadows. From the back of that entity emanated immense wings of deep blackness, moving gently yet sufficiently to sustain it in the air, granting it an air of absolute dominance.
Beside this shadowy being, a completely opposite figure took shape. It was an entity enveloped in an intense and pure white light, its presence no less powerful but carrying an almost celestial serenity. On its head, small crystal stars shimmered, spinning like miniature constellations, each reflecting tiny fragments of light in all directions. The entity floated lightly above a stone platform, radiating a calmness that contrasted with the threatening presence of its companion.
Dinis, unable to avert his gaze, gripped the hilt of his sword tightly. The instinct to fight had always accompanied him in moments of tension, but he knew these entities were beyond physical reach. They seemed more like manifestations of a superior reality, untouchable forces devoid of any human vulnerability. His mind swirled with doubts and fears, but he sought to maintain his composure.
Suddenly, deep and unison voices echoed from all directions, filling the vast space.
"I see that you have finally arrived, young child."
The words reverberated like thunder, and Dinis felt himself surrounded by them, unable to identify exactly where they were coming from. The sense of smallness intensified, and he realized how insignificant he was in the presence of these imposing figures.
Swallowing hard, he responded, his voice hesitant:
"If you know I was coming, then you know I seek answers. Please! Tell me what so deeply troubles me..."
A profound silence followed his plea until a new phrase echoed, cold and impassive.
"Poor soul, what reason do you have to care so much if inferior beings live or die? When you walk upon the earth, do you feel for the insects you trample underfoot?"
The words were harsh, resonating like a challenge. Dinis felt the weight of the indifference these beings had for any form of life lesser than theirs. They were entities beyond human comprehension, detached from earthly attachments and bonds.
He reflected for a moment, searching for the right words. He knew he was there for a reason and, even in the presence of such figures, his determination to obtain answers did not wane.
"Since the dawn of time, only those with enough power and strength have been able to fully chart their paths before destiny," the voices continued, "nothing that is done can be changed, but your quest can follow the right direction... as long as you still seek growth."
The words, though enigmatic, suggested that he was on the right path—perhaps even more so than he had imagined.
"So... am I really on the right direction?" Dinis inquired, his tone a mix of hope and doubt.
"Walking in the right direction towards your goals does not mean you are right... I will tell you a story..."
Dinis remained still, the words echoing in his mind as the light and darkness around him seemed to come alive, enveloping him in the narrative that was to be revealed.
Hundreds of years ago, in the great capital of Deli, the royal escort gathered for another mission. Composed of five elite sentinels, warriors at the peak of their abilities, this select group had a single purpose: to protect their majesty and humanity itself against the forces of darkness. Each of these warriors was trained with rigor and discipline, being equipped with customized armors, sharp blades, and unmatched resilience.
Among the members of this legendary group was the esteemed Captain Hawis, the unquestionable leader of the escort. With an imposing presence, Hawis led with iron determination and a serenity that inspired his comrades. His age, nearing fifty years, did not diminish his vitality; his body was still vigorous and agile, rivaling warriors many years younger. It was rare for anyone to believe he was nearing that age, and his dedication to protecting the royalty was admired and revered.
The sentinels were venerated by the people. They were known as the invisible guardians of the kingdom, those who kept the forces of darkness at bay and prevented evil from breaching the walls. During attacks by creatures from the underworld, only these warriors possessed the strength and skill necessary to confront and defeat them. The presence of a sentinel was a sign of security for the citizens, and those with dark intentions avoided them, knowing they were on a level beyond human comprehension.
However, time is relentless, even for the most fearless. When Hawis finally reached fifty years old, he felt it was time to bid farewell to the life he knew. He made the difficult decision to retire from his position as captain and pass the leadership to his friend and second-in-command, an equally loyal and committed man. The announcement brought a mix of surprise and mourning among the others, but they knew the captain deserved peace after so many years of service.
Reluctantly, the king accepted his request for retirement, fearing the loss of one of his greatest protectors but honoring the old warrior's wish. Hawis chose a remote village, located at the continent's edge, as his new home. It was a tranquil place, far from the empire's conflicts, where he could enjoy a life of serenity, free from the responsibilities and battles that had long been his routine.
What few knew was that this village was where Hawis had been born. Returning to his origins was a way to find peace, to reconnect with the essence he had lost over the years he served the royalty. For him, spending his final days in a familiar environment and away from war seemed like the destiny he deserved.
In the first months in the village, Hawis dedicated himself to getting to know the inhabitants, many of whom recognized him immediately and welcomed him with admiration and respect. Among these residents, one woman stood out: Liliam, a forty-year-old peasant who had spent her entire life in that quiet village.