The man rode through the rain, the thundering of the horse's hooves muffled by the soft, persistent tapping of water on the soaked ground. The sky was a vast expanse of gray, heavy clouds promising more storms. Each drop that fell seemed to carry a freezing chill, seeping into the rider's bones. He advanced toward a fissure in the terrain, a dark, deep crack that stretched like a scar across the landscape.
Upon reaching the edge, he pulled on the reins, and the horse stopped with a restless whinny. He observed the fissure, his gaze assessing. He pressed his lips together, turned the horse, and rode away, only to return after a short distance. This time, determination shone in his eyes.
Before attempting the jump, the man reached into his chest and pulled out a pendant he wore around his neck. It was an old compass, its bronze cover gleaming in the dim, rainy light. He opened it carefully, as if handling a precious object. He watched the needle tremble slightly, always pointing faithfully north. His fingers brushed the worn surface of the metal, a warm feeling of nostalgia and hope washing over him.
He closed the pendant with a soft click and tucked it back under his coat. Gripping the reins with determination, he dug his heels into the horse's flanks, and the animal leaped forward. The fissure approached rapidly, and just at the edge, the rider leaned forward, trusting the momentum. The horse jumped, its front legs extended, and for a brief moment, both were suspended in the air, between safety and the abyss.
The forest was so quiet at midday that it felt unsettling. No sound disturbed the surroundings as two people walked along a path worn down by countless human footsteps.
The two walkers carried burdens on their backs: small barrels, each with handles made of sturdy fabric to bear the weight on their shoulders. One was a young boy, around fourteen years old, and the other was a red-haired girl, considerably taller than him, about seventeen.
"What a character the fishmonger is. He wouldn't even lend us the cart for the trip," said the boy with annoyance. "'I can't lend you the cart, it's not for carrying fish. Besides, you're young, you can handle it!'" he added, mimicking the man's gruff voice with an exaggerated expression.
"Yeah, you nailed it," said the girl, letting out a small laugh.
"Silvia, you're the daughter of the village chief! Why did you give up the position your father left you?"
"Ah, well... let's just say it wasn't my place. Besides, I wanted to clear my head around the Hole."
"Any job is better than this. I'll try to find a more suitable one after a while. And... I'll never get used to you calling our home 'the Hole,'" said Token, frowning.
"Don't be mad, Token. Look! We're almost there," Silvia pointed to a large, extensive fence visible at a medium distance from where they stood.
Both stopped at the entrance to the place, a trapdoor in the ground where the wooden door was slightly ajar. Token removed the baggage from his shoulders with a sigh of relief.
"I'll take care of opening it," he said, heading toward a large square wooden plank embedded in the ground. He grabbed the handles of the plank with both hands and, with some effort, managed to flip it to the side, revealing the trapdoor. Then he went back for his small barrel and slung it over his shoulder.
Silvia and Token descended the stairs that were revealed upon opening the trapdoor. They were stone steps, solid and worn by time but still firm. The tunnel they entered was illuminated by torches with blue flames, casting a mysterious and ethereal light on the stone walls.
"Today we brought a good catch of fish, so I hope he compensates us well," said Token as he descended the stone stairs.
"Yeah, we spent the whole morning fishing," replied Silvia, adjusting the barrel on her shoulder.
The echo of their voices resonated softly in the tunnel, accompanied by the crackling of the blue-flamed torches that illuminated their path. As they advanced, the air grew cooler and damper, carrying the earthy scent characteristic of underground places.
Finally, the stone steps led them to the village. Revealing the sunken place, which was a kind of natural bowl. The rural houses, made of stone and thatched roofs, were scattered like an ancient mosaic. Silvia and Token stopped for a moment, contemplating the village that stretched out before them, surrounded by a high wooden fence that protected it like a shield.
The market activity was beginning to awaken. The merchants were already setting up their stalls, and the murmur of conversations and the sound of blacksmiths' hammers filled the air.
A few meters from where Silvia and Token stood, a woman was seen carrying a bucket to collect water from a stone well. Her movements were firm and determined. As they approached the center of the village, the woman looked up and gave them a brief smile of recognition before returning to her task.
The young pair walked straight ahead, but Silvia noticed that her companion had stopped. She realized he was looking at a sign firmly planted in the ground. The sign, shaped like a small booth, had five parchment posters with portraits.
"Today would have been her twenty-first birthday, you know," said Token, his voice filled with melancholy.
Silvia placed her hand on Token's shoulder, offering comfort.
"Your sister Evelyn... was one of the best runners we've ever had. We'll never forget her."
"She also called our home 'the Hole,'" replied Token, turning to look at his companion with worried eyes. "Silvia, I'm not your family, but you remind me of my sister. Please, don't do anything stupid. Going out there and running into..."
"Token," she interrupted. "Leaving isn't in my plans. But you need to understand that everyone has their own dreams and a different way of seeing the world and the situation."
Silvia took a deep breath, trying to calm the unease she saw in Token's eyes.
"Come on, let's go to the fishmonger."
Token nodded, thoughtful, and they resumed their walk.
As they walked, Silvia took one last look at the sign. On the second parchment was the portrait of a girl, with the inscription below that read: "Evelyn, 18 years old. 5 days and 4 nights. Northbound."
"Take it or leave it, there's no more," said the chubby fishmonger, displaying the products on the table of his stall. In front of him were the barrels full of fish caught by the kids. His small hazel eyes watched Silvia and Token attentively. Token was especially drawn to his peculiar mustache, thick and bushy, with ends that curled upward defiantly. He always wondered how the man kept it that way.
"But... a small ham leg and some butter?" said Silvia, incredulous, looking at the products on the table.
"We deserve more! We were at the river since morning and caught a ton of fish!" protested Token. "Besides, remember that Silvia is the Chief's daughter!"
"Ahh..." the fishmonger scratched his head. "Why are you complaining so much, kid? First of all, I don't favor anyone. And second," he picked up a fish from the barrel, "these fish are worth less than usual."
"But... aren't they Pereda?" commented Silvia.
"No. I see you still haven't learned. The Pereda looks like these fish, but it has three tails. These, however, have four," he pointed to the fourth tail of the fish he was holding.
The kids looked at each other and shook their heads, accepting their mistake.
"What you've caught are Ferris. I know you're new to this job, and it's normal to make mistakes at first. The area around the village is full of rivers. So... I'll do this. I'll give two butters to... Toki, was it?"
"Token!" said the boy, turning red at the mispronunciation of his name. Silvia let out a small giggle.
"Alright, then Token gets that, and Silvia gets the small ham."
"Fine. I accept. But get ready for the next exchange. I'll bring better-quality fish," said Token, taking the two butters from the table. "See you later, Silvia. I have to go home."
"See you," replied the girl.
"And you?" asked the fishmonger to Silvia.
"Yes, I accept too," she said, taking the ham.
"By the way... are the rumors true? Do you know if there's a new runner this year?" asked the man, doubtful.
Silvia thought for a moment before answering.
"Yes, the rumors are true. But I can't say anything about the person. Not to anyone. Not yet."
"I suppose it'll be announced in the right month. May the god Qlaa have mercy on the individual."
A small group of very young boys and girls were sitting in a grassy corner of the village, in the center-left area. They were chatting animatedly about a topic that deeply interested them. The group consisted of three boys and two girls.
"I say it'll be Madro. He's trained a lot to be a runner," said Efedra, a dark-haired girl.
"No. It's most likely Annabel. She has enough experience to do the run again and go further," replied Trebor, a boy with a scar on his right hand, using a stick to draw circles in the grass.
"Do you think so? Those who have managed to return usually don't go out again. Or maybe she wants to repeat? I don't see it as likely," said Andrés, a brown-haired boy, looking at Trebor.
"Let's ask Token, he's coming now," said Alida, her eyes sleepy, pointing to the young man approaching with a rolled-up parchment in his hand.
"Hey, friends, did I miss something?" asked Token as he arrived.
"Not much, but..." Efedra started.
"We wanted to ask you about the new runner!" Trebor blurted out, interrupting Efedra.
"Hey!" Efedra protested the interruption.
Token stayed silent for a while, then made a face of annoyance.
"You're working with the Chief's daughter, right? Did she tell you anything?" asked Efedra.
"Well, we haven't talked about that. And honestly, I'm not interested in the topic. For me, runners are idiots. They don't appreciate the qualities and wealth of our village, or the people who call it the Hole," said Token, crossing his arms.
"Well, we'll remain clueless," said Andrés in a tone of regret, reflecting the sentiment of the others, except Token.
"By the way, what are you carrying there?" asked Efedra, pointing to the parchment.
"Oh, it's a message. I have to deliver it to someone later."
"Can we see it?"
"No way!"
"You take the fun out of life, friend," said Efedra with a mischievous smile.
In a quiet place, on a wooden desk, Silvia sat absorbed in her writing. The pen danced on the paper as the words took shape. Suddenly, she felt a soft whisper behind her, and a delicate floral scent wafted through the air. A gentle touch on her hair let her know someone was approaching. She didn't see him, but she could feel the flower tucked into her hair. When she noticed, she smiled.
"You're so funny," said Silvia, without stopping her writing but with a smile on her face.
From behind, a warm voice replied:
"You look adorable, my cherry."
A warm caress on her cheek made her turn toward him. Her boyfriend, Mirio, looked at her with affection.
"You're still writing the story, right?" he asked.
"Well. It's the second one I've done this month," she replied, looking up from the paper.
"Magnificent! You know your stories have great potential, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your boyfriend. Many kids and teenagers love them. Writing about talking animals, fictional gods, and everyday life is your thing."
"That's what they say, yes. But I was thinking of writing a different story..." said Silvia, with a curious glint in her eyes.
"Oh, really? About what?"
"What if I create a character who manages to overcome the fog?" Silvia turned to him, the sound of the grass rustling in the wind completing the silence around them.
"...ummm..." Mirio seemed to hesitate for a moment.
"Umm?" Silvia raised an eyebrow, still looking at him.
"Love... are you sure? The parents might not like the idea."
"Why do you say that, Mirio?"
"Think about it. Parents won't want their kids reading that kind of story."
"Do you think it will encourage kids to become runners?"
"I don't know about that. But I'm saying it because the topic of being a runner is less and less appreciated by the villagers. It's like they despise it."
"..."
"In other words, it would create controversy. If it were someone else writing it..."
"Are you saying that because I'm the Chief's daughter, it would be frowned upon?"
"I'm saying it would be better not to get into those topics."
"They're just stories! Since when can a fictional story of mine change people's thoughts or upset them?"
"Silvia, I'm just saying... don't use your art to do something that could hurt you."
"But... what are you saying? My stories have never caused any harm. Let's drop the conversation. I'll sleep on it."
There was a brief silence between them until Silvia broke the tense atmosphere with a question.
"Tell me, how's your brother doing with your family? Are they okay with him being the next runner?"
Mirio looked at her, concern floating in his gaze.
"He's standing firm. My parents are trying to discourage him. I believe in him; he's trained more than anyone."
"I know, I keep up with the academy. He has very good records, for sure."
The tunnels of the village were dark and damp, with the faint light of torches flickering on the stone walls. Token walked briskly, delivering a roll of blueprints to Mikael, a young man who looked tired but kind.
"Thanks for delivering the blueprints, Token," said Mikael with a smile, extending his hand to take the roll. In exchange, he handed Token a brightly colored lollipop.
Token looked at it for a moment before responding, somewhat resigned.
"Hey, I'm not a kid anymore," he said with an awkward smile. "But thanks, I'll keep it."
Mikael chuckled, seeing Token's effort not to seem so young.
"Hahaha, yeah, you're all grown up now. How old are you?"
"Fourteen," replied Token, with a slight grimace.
"Fourteen, huh. And... do you have a girlfriend?" asked Mikael, curious.
Token blushed slightly, not expecting that question.
"Uhh... no! I'm not interested in that stuff," he replied quickly, trying to steer the conversation away.
"I'm sure there's some young girl who's got her eye on you and you haven't noticed yet," Mikael joked, laughing. "Take my advice, don't miss the chance to get to know the people in this village well. It's a big place, and we have to accept that we don't have anywhere else to go."
Token laughed nervously, uncomfortable with the topic, but he listened carefully to Mikael's words.
"Well, young friend, I'd love to keep talking with you, but I have to get back to work now."
"Digging more?" asked Token, looking toward the end of the tunnel where mining tools were visible.
"Exactly," Mikael nodded. "Have you thought about joining the mining crew?"
Token thought for a moment. The idea of working in the mines seemed tempting, but something inside him told him it wasn't his path.
"I think I could try it. Do they give good rewards?" he asked curiously.
"It depends," Mikael smiled. "On how many minerals or what kind you extract. Once I found a very strange mineral, with beautiful colors. They gave me food for a whole month."
Token raised his eyebrows, surprised.
"That's amazing!" he exclaimed. Then, with a smile, he added, "Well, see you, Mikael."
"See you, Token," replied Mikael, giving him a pat on the shoulder as he walked away to his work, with the lollipop in his mouth and his head full of thoughts.
Night fell, and the Chief's house, a structure of wood and stone that seemed to withstand the passage of time, was enveloped in the calm of darkness. In the foyer, Miraya, Silvia's sister, sat in a chair near the window. Her gaze was fixed on a small aquarium with exotic fish swimming peacefully. The sound of crutchs dragging on the floor echoed softly in the silence.
Suddenly, the door opened. Silvia entered, her figure illuminated only by the light of the oil lamps flickering throughout the house.
"You're late. We've already finished dinner," said Miraya, without looking up from the fish.
Silvia sighed, taking off her boots as she approached.
"Oh, it's fine. I'll grab something to clean up," she replied, though she didn't seem particularly interested.
"The servants already took care of that," Miraya glanced at her. "You smell like... fish."
Silvia stopped, concerned. Her tone changed.
"Are you okay?" she asked seriously, noticing something in her sister's posture.
Miraya let out a bitter laugh.
"No, I'm not okay, little sister," she looked at Silvia with a tense expression. "Father is asking what game you're playing. You're supposed to be handling the village administration position."
Silvia tensed, knowing the conversation wouldn't be easy.
"I already told him it wasn't a job for me. And I don't think he said it like that."
"You always do what you want," Miraya shot back, her voice filled with frustration. "You get your way without thinking about others."
"Miraya, if I'm not doing that job, it's not out of whim, you know?" said Silvia with tense calm.
Miraya frowned, unwilling to understand.
"Why then?" her voice rose, overflowing with impatience.
Silvia crossed her arms, looking at her sister, though her eyes showed the weariness of an internal battle.
"You wouldn't understand," she said firmly, avoiding her gaze.
"Of course, excuse yourself with that cheap phrase," Miraya replied with disdain, turning her back.
Silvia, feeling it wasn't worth continuing the argument, let out a sigh and took off her shoes roughly.
"I can't stand you..." she muttered before turning and heading toward the stairs.
"Because of you, I'm on crutches for life, you know?! Selfish! You've always been!" Miraya shouted, her voice filled with resentment, but Silvia was already out of reach, climbing the stairs to her room.
The echo of Miraya's words resonated in the empty hallway, but Silvia didn't stop, lost in her own thoughts as she ascended to the second floor, where the solitude of her room awaited her.
Silvia entered her room, a sparse but cozy space illuminated by the faint light of a candle she had just lit. Her face, reflected in the flickering light, showed the concentration of someone grappling with complex thoughts. She walked to her desk, an aged wooden surface covered with papers and a small parchment notebook. She sat down, pulled out her pen, and began to write, the words flowing onto the paper as quickly as her mind generated them.
Today I went to work with Token. He doesn't want me to be a runner, like my sister, who didn't return years ago after heading north. I have no intention of being a runner. Besides, my father would have a fit if I even thought about it.
Silvia sighed as she looked at the notebook, the pen paused in her hand.
The runner will be Marco, Mirio's brother. The village doesn't know, except for my father, Mirio's parents, the runner academy, and me. Obviously, because of our protocol. No one else will know the runner's name until the day of the event. This is to avoid overwhelming the person who will make the run.
She looked out the window, where the dark night loomed over the village, and continued.
Mirio thinks I shouldn't write a story about runners because of the consequences it might bring, though I don't see the point. I'm sure it wouldn't cause problems.
Silvia closed her eyes for a moment, thinking about her brother's words, before sighing again. She felt trapped between what she wanted to do and what others expected of her.
Ugh...
Silvia leaned back in her chair, observing the outside, where the fog began to descend like a heavy blanket over the village, enveloping everything in a grayish layer that seemed to seal their fate. The fog formed an invisible ceiling, closing off the horizon, creating the sensation of being trapped in a cage of shadows.
Her thoughts faded, as if the fog itself had swallowed them. The words stopped in her mind, caught between what she desired and what she feared, between hope and despair.
I wish with all my heart that someone would leave this village and seek help.
At that moment, her mind wandered to the forest beyond the village walls. The fog embraced the trees, as if nature itself were being consumed by darkness.
This village, which some of us call the Hole. We gave it that nickname because we know it's hard to leave, if not impossible. This hole has no bottom; it's an endless abyss.
The idea of being trapped in a place with no exit filled her with an even greater emptiness. She thought of the nearby cemetery, at the edge of the village, where the graves seemed to be devoured by the fog. The memories of those who had left remained trapped in a place where even death seemed no liberation.
We will die here of old age or disease.
Silvia's notebook fell silent, her thoughts floating in the dense air of the room. The darkness took over the space, and her words seemed unable to capture the depth of her fears.
Meanwhile, outside, Token also felt the weight of the fog over him, from the small patio of his house. The sky slowly covered itself, darkening the horizon like a somber omen. Token, with a furrowed brow, observed the world fading around him, as uncertain as his own thoughts.
It won't be easy. Unless a miracle happens.
The air was thick, charged with the feeling that something big was about to happen. Some rocks embedded in the ground, at the edge of the path, caught his attention. Among them, a cloth bag hung, as if someone had left it there on purpose. The glint of something inside the bag drew his attention: a small sphere, glowing faintly, like a spark of hope in the midst of the darkness.
The fate of everyone seemed about to change, though no one knew how. The air grew even heavier, as if the future of all hung on the edge of a knife, ready to fall at any moment. And so, in the silence of the night and the fog that enveloped everything, the village waited, unaware that this might be the beginning of something much greater than they had ever imagined.