In the chilly morning within the quiet forest, Glida stood still, carefully observing a young deer with a scrutinizing gaze. He watched its seemingly erratic leaps, movements that initially appeared random but in truth embodied nature's instinct in slicing through the dense air. He tried to decode these rhythmic movements, seeking a formula that might explain them, yet found himself unable to fathom it, and so he abandoned the thought.
This time, he rose, resolute in his intent to complete his task. The mother deer gestured to him with a nod, offering to carry him on their journey. He felt too weary to refuse, as pain surged through his body from head to toe. The herd began moving toward the great tree with confident steps, as though fully aware of their precise destination. In that moment, Glida felt a profound shift within; it was as if nature had unveiled a hidden gateway, lifting the invisible veil that once constrained his steps.
Clinging tightly to the warm antlers, he carefully observed the movement of each member of the herd, sensing from their glances and hoof placements that they were evading something unseen in the air, as if they were stealthily navigating a spider's web, avoiding its tangled threads. Yet, while he understood the concept, replicating it proved challenging;
His eyes failed to detect the hidden barrier despite their ability to pierce the deep darkness.
The colossal tree began to appear on the horizon, while the river lay serene like a mirror of pure silver and sand glass. Fish swam in its transparent waters, appearing as if they were floating in an infinite space. Clearly, every creature here had been granted the instincts necessary to exist under this mysterious weight.
An hour of continuous running passed before the massive tree finally loomed before them, its sprawling branches piercing the sky. But for its vibrant green leaves, one might mistake it for a rocky trunk that bound earth to heaven. Indeed, its trunk and branches were as hard as stone, with enormous roots stretching across and beneath the ground, forming a circle akin to the mouth of a giant volcano, daring no other tree to encroach upon its domain. Oh, how selfish of you nature.
The herd halted at the circular clearing amidst the trees, their senses alert, as though perceiving a hidden threat near the tree. Glida dismounted from the deer's back, embracing her with warm gratitude before repeating the gesture with her young, who seemed saddened to part from his first friend.
Suddenly and without any warnings, the antlers of the entire herd erupted into a blazing blue flame, forcing Glida to recoil from the intense heat, incomparably to their red form. The deer stamped the ground in clear distress, and as Glida desperately searched for the source of their agitation, he motioned to the mother stressfully for her to calm down. Her anxiety softened a little, though the fire on her antlers still burned furiously. With a tense nod, she turned and vanished into the shadows of the forest with the others.
The air seemed weird in that clearing.
The young man found himself alone before the towering tree, like an ant before the Solomon's army. The river reached its base, resting there reverently, its waters stilled in awe of the scene. Moss, fungi, and blossoms of every hue adorned its vast stony branches, casting a spellbinding charm over this surreal display of nature.
The rocky giant presided over the scene amid the flourishing surroundings, like a king reigning supreme over his realm. Glida inched closer, stepping between the immense roots and the colorful grass that carpeted the ground, in a space filled with the joyful dances of butterflies. The sight resembled a living masterpiece, blending grandeur with the serenity of spring, leaving him in awe of nature's divine grandeur. All fatigue, pain, and struggle faded before the breathtaking beauty of this mesmerizing sight. He forgot it all.
He stretched his neck, attempting to glimpse the top of the tree, but its wide branches obscured the sky from his view. It stood tall, with two tiers of leafy branches challenging the heavens. He approached until he was separated from the tree only by the river's end encircling it like a pristine pool cradling its trunk. Sunlight trickled through from above, illuminating the water's surface with vibrant, pulsing colors.
Butterflies danced along the enormously wide trunk in a vibrant array of hues, as if performing a silent symphony of nature. As Glida moved toward it, they scattered in all directions, leaving him in a state of bliss he wished would never end.
Suddenly, his attention was drawn to a strange inscription—a writing in a language he had never seen before, glowing with a pulsating blue light. The letters, carved in large, bold strokes, seemed to beckon him closer. They sparkled under the sunlight like ancient secrets hidden within nature's embrace:
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ⴰⵢⵢⴰ ⵉⵙⵎⵓⴽⵓⵍⵏ ⵖⵡⴰⵍⵍⴰⵖ, ⵔⴳⴻⵍ ⵉⵎⴰⵏⵏⴻⴽ ⴰⵟⵣⴻⵔⵟ ⴰⵙⴽⵍⵓⵏⴻⴽ.
ⴽⴻⵔⴼ ⵓⵍⵏⴻⴽ ⴰⵟⵣⴻⵔⵟ ⵜⵉⵍⴰⵙⵙⵏⴻⴽ.
ⵎⴰⵛ ⴰⴷⵓⵔ ⵜⵔⵣⴻⵎⵜ ⵉⴼⵉⵍⵉ ⵏ ⵜⵉⴷⴻⵜ ⴳⵡⴻⵔ ⵉⴽⴰⵍⵉⵡⴻⵏ.
ⴰⵙⵙⵉ ⴰⵙⵎⴷⴻⵍ ⵏ ⵉⴳⵍⴷⴰⵏ ⵙⴷⴰⵔ ⴰⵙⴳⵓⴻⵍⴷ ⵏⵓⴽⵃⴰⵏ.
ⵙⴻⵔⵖ ⵍⵄⴼⵉⵜ ⴳⵃ ⵡⴰⴽⴰⵍ ⴰⵜⴳⵓⵉ ⵉⵖⴻⴷ.
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The inscription entranced Glida, his mind slipping into a trance, drawn into waves of hallucination and fantasy. The more he stared, the deeper he felt his sense of reality fading, as though these blue letters were magical gates to another world. Suddenly, a booming voice shattered the silence: "How long will you gaze into the void?"
Glida's heart raced in fear. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes searching for the source of the voice. He froze, his breath catching in his throat, upon seeing a figure suspended in the air—its form as dark as the night, with only two glowing white eyes piercing through the darkness. Small horns crowned its head, and a twisted tail hung down behind it. In its right hand, it held loosely a long black spear, its sharp red tip gleaming ominously.
The creature's gaze fell on Glida with an air of arrogance, exuding a sense of complete superiority.
The creature's height exceeded slightly the tallest men in the village, surrounded by a floating dark metal ring over his head like a choking collar. "I repeat: how long will you stare at the void, ignoring my presence ?" The being's deep voice rumbled, shaking the earth.
Paralyzed by shock and fear, Glida found himself unable to speak. The creature's presence pressed upon him, as heavy as a mountain on his chest. Each word it uttered resonated within him, scattering birds in terror.
The creature remained in place, scrutinizing Glida with its cosmic eyes, as if probing his soul. Glida nearly sank to his knees under the crushing weight of fear pulling him to the ground and the exhaustion ravaging his body. But he refused to kneel—another lesson learned: weakness meant death.
The two locked eyes—one weighed down with terror, the other radiating the authority of a king confronting a servant in his presence below him. Silence settled, thick as the calm before a storm, until the creature finally spoke in cryptic words:
[Oh, you who gaze at the abyss, imprison your soul to unleash your shadow. Ensnare your heart to see your darkness. Yet, do not release the thread of truth between worlds. Raise the graves of kings before the throne of corruption. Ignite the earth, and you shall see it barren.]
"Ah?" Glida stammered, his body trembling as a chill of surprise ran through him.
The creature gazed at him, saying, "That is what the inscription on the tree reads."
Glida remained silent, his eyes questioning. The creature replied coldly, "It seems you've inherited the ignorance of your village. I am the guardian of the sacred land. You will find what you seek in the abandoned structure on the southern hills. Seek your desire at dawn, or lose it."
Words failed to break through the wall of astonishment surrounding Glida. He froze in place until the creature growled, "What are you waiting for? Leave."
The weight lifted slightly from the boy, and he stepped back, still contemplating the creature, dragging his heavy steps without awareness, as questions wrestled in his troubled mind. He stumbled between the roots, exhausted, his only goal to escape this strange place.
With every step, the trees recoiled, as if retreating before him, while his exhausted eyes blurred with fatigue. Just as he felt himself slipping into disorientation, the thunderous voice boomed again: "It seems you have a new companion. Guard it well."
He turned with difficulty, trying to understand the meaning, only to find the creature had vanished, leaving him suspended between dream and reality. Events swirled in his mind like a vortex, before he fainted for the second time that day, the last thing he heard being the sound of hard footsteps rushing towards him.
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At the top of the tree, where the gaze stretches to embrace the horizon, sat a warrior clad in armor made of leather and steel. His powerful body was encased in ancient combat gear, and his face was hidden behind a rusty metal mask, revealing only his fiery eyes. His silver hair danced with the spring breeze, while the scratched metal gleamed with battle scars under the afternoon sun.
The warrior gently leaned on his left knee, supporting himself with his right hand, while the shadowy creature stood behind him in stillness, holding its spear horizontally in its right hand, alert to any sudden movement.
"What do you think?" asked the warrior, his eyes watching the distant ground below them.
"The binding thread is healing quickly," the creature replied in a serious tone, looking westward.
"How boring. I'll ask again: What do you think of the boy?"
"His soul remains untainted, surprisingly pure, but it's still too early" His voice, no longer trembling with power, now flowed with the quiet stillness of a river winding at the foot of the tree.
The warrior tilted his head to the west and then said, "It seems our visitors have grown tired of waiting." And quickly, he leapt into the air like a rock thrown into water, while the shadow remained still behind him.
"Don't let me die!" he screamed sarcastically into the air while .
But before he could reach the first layer of the tree's branches, the two disappeared as if existence had swallowed their trace, leaving only the echo of their mockery drifting through the air.