* The darkness was always the same: cold, empty, and echoing. I lay sprawled in a boundless space, my eyes wide open although all I saw was a bone-chilling blackness.
My breath hissed like the wind trapped in an ancient cave. Suddenly—like oil paint spilling onto a black canvas—a golden light seeped out from beneath my feet. One, two, then dozens of beams ignited in sequence, weaving themselves into a gigantic trunk that twisted towards the unseen sky. The tree grew violently, its roots gripping the darkness, while its branches tore through the false sky until shards of light scattered like meteors. At the ends of its twigs, shimmering crystal fruits pulsed, each containing a vague image: magnificent cities, stormy seas, and the laughing faces of people.
* Suddenly, golden tendrils crept from the tree's bark, gently entwining me. Through the gleam, I saw shadows: a little girl picking flowers in a meadow, a cavalry crossing a dusty desert, a wooden ship shattering against a storm. Life. All of life.
* Then he came.
* The figure in black robes emerged from a fissure in the tree trunk, as if born from the wood itself. His robes billowed though there was no wind, his face hidden behind a deep hood. In his hand, a blood scythe glowed with red smoke, its tip piercing the sky until it cracked. Winged creatures—with transparent bodies like stained glass—gathered like a swarm of panicked fireflies. They charged at the figure, but his sword was already swinging.
* One slash.
* The gigantic tree split in half, golden sap spurting like the blood of a god. The world shook. The tendrils of life were severed, the crystal fruits exploding into diamond dust. I was thrown backward, my body feeling scorched by the blinding burst of energy. Amidst the chaos of destruction, the figure turned to me. Two glowing red points behind the hood—pupil-less eyes that burned.
* I opened my eyes in surprise and realized it was just one of the strange dreams I always had whenever I slept. I looked up at my ceiling decorated with miniature planets and stars. I wiped the sweat from my face and lay back down, trying to calm myself. Light filtering through the curtain cut across me, indicating that morning had arrived. I lay back down, trying to steady myself after the dream I had experienced. Until my mind went blank and I began to hear everything around me. Starting from people walking by, the sound of passing vehicles, and the radio noise coming from downstairs.
* [A soft music intro plays slowly, then evaporates in a warm harmony before finally fading. The announcer's voice—clear and full of spirit—fills the airwaves.]
Announcer (Aron), in a cheerful tone:
"Good morning, loyal listeners of Public Radio FM! On this bright morning, as always, I, Aron, am here to accompany your beautiful days. How are you all doing out there? I hope the morning spirit greets you with your best smile!"
[His voice vibrates with joy, as if smiling through the radio waves.]
"Before playing the latest string of hit songs ready to pump up your spirits, allow me to remind you of one special thing..."
"[His tone drops slowly, full of emphasis.]"
"In twelve more days, our beloved city will celebrate its 18th anniversary! This grand event will be held in the city square, and of course—we are all invited! The Mayor has prepared a festive party for all citizens. So, bring your family, friends, neighbors, or even your favorite cat! Let's celebrate together!"
[His small laugh floats through the air, then he takes a dramatic breath before becoming enthusiastic again.]
"Now—time to keep the promise! The first song that will accompany your morning is 'Destiny' by Mordent Band. Get ready to be swept away by the soul-igniting melody!"
[The music slowly swells, filling every corner of the room with warm bass thumps and a stirring guitar melody—like dawn embracing the earth.]
* The song played softly, tickling my consciousness to drift back to sleep. My eyelids felt heavy as if weighted down, slowly closing—
* BANG!
Suddenly, a much more real—and painful—weight slammed into my stomach! My breath caught in my throat, a sharp pain radiating up to my ribs. I groaned, almost passing out, but before I could react...
* Slap! Slap!
Two rough slaps landed on my cheek, making my head snap.
Girl?? : * "Hey! How long are you planning to sleep, huh?" the girl's voice snorted, a high note full of anger.
I squinted through my still-heavy eyelids.
MC : "Come on... Elvy. It's only six in the morning..." my voice was hoarse, still stuck on the verge of a dream.
Elvy crossed her arms over her chest.
Elvy : "Six? Look at the clock—it's seven already!"
MC : "What?! Seven?! Damn it!"
Adrenaline exploded throughout my body. I flipped over roughly, accidentally pushing Elvy until she fell with a "Thud!" onto the floor.
Elvy : "Hey! That hurt!" she shouted, her face flushed.
MC : "Sorry, sorry! I'm really in a hurry!" I had already shot to the door, bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor.
The stairs were visible at the end of the corridor. I descended two steps at a time, almost losing my balance—
* Whoosh! Thud!
A thick book—probably a dictionary—hit my back with deadly accuracy. My feet tangled, my body tumbled, and the world spun as I rolled down the stairs like a sack of grain.
* My uncle stood behind the kitchen counter, his hands busy stirring scrambled eggs on a sizzling pan. His eyes—plain and unremarkable—glanced at me, who had just landed at the bottom of the stairs in a less-than-elegant style. His expression was flat, but there was a flicker of annoyance hidden behind his sigh. But well, he wasn't too surprised. This was the umpteenth time this week. Ah, probably just five times. Still forgivable, right?
I immediately snatched the towel hanging on the rack, then dashed into the bathroom. Cold water splashed over my body in a lightning-fast shower shorter than a soap commercial. Meanwhile, my cousin—the morning dream-destroyer—slowly descended the stairs with a sour expression, like she was chewing a lemon. Her school bag was already slung over her shoulder, ready to go.
Uncle, pouring hot tea into a mug, sighed:
Uncle : "Haah... when will he ever change?"
The girl shrugged, her lips curling into a cynical grin:
Elvy : "If he changed, wouldn't it feel weird? Right, Dad? It would feel like a sign that the apocalypse is drawing near."
Uncle shook his head, but his eyes sparkled gently:
Uncle : "Be careful on your way."
With a light step, the girl glided to the door. Before disappearing, she delivered the final line:
Elvy : "Yes, Dad. Don't worry. If I have to wait for him, I'll end up being a late loser too!"
The door closed with a "click," leaving behind an aroma of annoyance and a faint smell of lavender perfume in the air.
With a quick move, I snatched a slice of bread spread with jam from the counter—the sweet and savory taste briefly sticking to my tongue before I devoured it in two bites. Without wasting time, I grabbed my hoverboard leaning near the door, then shot out of the house like an arrow released from its bow.
* That day... was the same as the days before: a boring routine. School, lessons, assignments—everything went in an endless loop.
* Memories and Life
In school, my name might always be displayed on the announcement board as an outstanding student. But what's the meaning of a trophy if no one is waiting for you backstage?
I still remember every time I won a competition. Around me, the second and third place winners were greeted by their families—hugged tightly, lifted high, laughing happily as if the world belonged only to them. As for me?
I only had "one person" who always appeared from the crowd, never absent: my cousin.
She is not my biological sister, but somehow, she's always there—with her signature mischievous grin, hand raised as if saying, "Let's go home, champ!"
And in that second, even if only for a moment, I felt...
I wasn't alone.
We were like two sides of a coin that could never meet. I, with stacks of books and formulas as my constant companions, while Elvy—the short-haired bolt of lightning—conquered every running track with feet that seemed to have wings. Her achievements? A row of trophies on the living room shelf testified: inter-school running champion, regional sprint record-breaker, and a host of medals that glittered like treasure. But she was never arrogant. "It's just running, not a final exam!" she teased whenever I mentioned her trophies.
Uncle... Ah, Uncle. The man was like a machine that never tired. His clothes always smelled of strong coffee and old archive paper. His eyes were often puffy with fatigue, but every morning, at the dining table, he always spared a small smile for us. "Don't forget breakfast," or "Don't come home too late," he said in a husky voice that actually felt warm. But if I asked, "Uncle, where exactly do you work?" — his face would instantly harden like a locked fortress. "An ordinary office," he replied briefly, then immersed himself back into his creaking old laptop.
And my parents?
Perhaps you're wondering: Where are they?
I want to know too.
Every time I mentioned their names, the air around us seemed to freeze. Uncle would suddenly busy himself with his hands—straightening his already clean glasses, or wiping a dust-free table. Sometimes, he pretended not to hear. Once, he tried to tell a story... but I knew it was just a collection of empty words stitched into a lie.
Our family understood one thing: my parents were gone.
But why is Uncle so insistent on hiding their identities? I only know a snippet—my mother's name. And I only got that by accident from an old document tucked between Uncle's archives.
And to this day...
I am still searching for an answer that never comes.
However, there is one thing Uncle can never hide: his left ear always twitches subtly when he lies. That small movement, almost invisible—like a leaf trembling in the wind—but for us, it's a sign clearer than an alarm.
My cousin and I learned this habit a long time ago. We even created a secret game: "Uncle's Ear Twitch Count" to measure the magnitude of his lies. But we never once told him. Let it remain our secret—a small weapon against the wall of silence he often erect.
My life is a book with half the pages torn out. Every chapter is filled with deliberately hidden puzzles: Who exactly are my parents? Why is Uncle so afraid to bring up the past? What happened that caused them to simply vanish?
But one thing is certain—I will find the answer. Whether the truth turns out to be a warm hug or a punch to the solar plexus, I am ready to accept it.
* Oh, by the way...
Have I introduced myself yet? Well then.
My name is Vettle.
And believe me—one day, the world will know me as a legend.