It was an unwanted vigil.
As the night deepened into darkness, the cold kept her awake in an endless condemnation. In her body, an agonizing struggle raged against the icy breeze—the forests, so pleasant during the day, became unbearably cold with the arrival of night, though they were not the most inhospitable places in the world, especially after the end of the Eternal Winter.
She longed to sleep, to finally surrender to slumber, but time, with its incessant winds, awakened her at each attempt to rest.
Suddenly, her body was gently shaken:
— Wake up! You are trembling too much! — The voice, masculine and calm, reached her. — Come on, wake up! — The man repeated.
With an effort that was almost painful, the woman rose, hesitant to leave the soft ground, covered by damp and green vegetation. Her eyes found his, laden with an irritation that needed no words. What she wanted most in that moment was the peace of sleep.
— What do you want now? — The tone of her voice was hoarse, dry, exhausted.
— There is a warmer patch of ground, right there. I believe it will help you sleep better. — He spoke with the certainty of one who knew that forest deeply, perhaps more than any other person.
— Are you certain of that? — Distrust was clear in her question.
— I am. Just follow me. — The firmness of his words left no room for doubt.
They walked only a few meters. Beneath the canopy of a plant that resembled a cozy shrub, she lay down. Her eyes fixed upon him, who was already settled.
— You keep repeating that no one knows anything, but from what I see, you are the one who knows the secrets here best. That intrigues me.
— I like to explore what surrounds me. — he said, turning his back to her, lying in the soft mud. — It is better we sleep, young woman.
She closed her eyes, for exhaustion finally overcame her resistance to the cold and caution. The weariness was a welcome weight, a sign of rest that she had not been permitted to enjoy not long ago.
The woman's body sank into sleep as if plunging into dark and tranquil waters. There were no more discomforts, no concern about the cutting breeze. There was only a strange peace, a silence that seemed to absorb any sound from the outside world.
However, the tranquility quickly gave way to a sensation of lightness and floating. She was no longer lying in the soft mud. She was suspended in a void of deep blue, dotted with lights that were not stars, but rather fragments of energy that danced in a slow and hypnotic movement.
In that immense void, where the laws of Earth did not reach, sprouted a sweet and growing curiosity, the intimate certainty that her eyes rested upon something that reason could never comprehend or understand, a secret woven with the substance of the purest dreams.
Around her, the void began to condense. The particles of light stretched in a gentle ballet, spinning veils as thin as the rarest silk, that floated with the lightness of a sigh upon the wind. They were not colors that our common eyes could capture, but echoes: a blood-red that pulsed with the very essence of life; a water-green, delicate and profound; and a liquid gold, warm and malleable, that flowed gently to the ground made of pure invisibility, waiting to be absorbed by something more beautiful.
She perceived that this was not a common dream—that is, the dream was a premiere, visible as never before in her life. The clarity of what she saw was total, but the scenery that surrounded her belonged to a spectacle of impossibilities.
The woman was not there, in the tangible. Her spirit, her purest essence, floated in the between, that world suspended over nothingness, the spiritual womb of existence where the memories of the world, and the very soul of the earth, created their most sophisticated veils and manifested themselves in whispers of eternity.
A sound filled the environment—a dry crack, like branches breaking. The dark-blue ground beneath her feet began to crack, and an orange brilliance, warm and vibrant, burst forth from the fissures. It was fire, but different from anything she had ever seen.
It was not destructive. It was pure energy, an ancestral flame that surrounded her without consuming her.
The fire concentrated at a point, spinning and growing until it formed a silhouette. As the flames diminished, a figure revealed itself, standing upon the now stable and warm spiritual ground.
The creature before her was impressive. She was a macaque, but of a much larger stature than any primate, with an upright posture and long, strong arms. What shocked her most, however, was the color of her fur: it was a dull silver, almost metallic, that reflected the brilliance of that environment. Her eyes, large and intelligent, were of a profound amber.
The macaque wore a collar made of teeth from some unknown predator and, in her hand, held an object simple, yet of undeniable power: a branch—perhaps a staff—in flames.
— You are late. — The voice of the creature, strangely gentle for such a presence, echoed in the nothingness, with pre-ancestral authority, yet tinged with melancholy. — I had begun to think that the chilled winds would make you give up coming here.
The woman tried to speak, but surprise and confusion trapped the words in her throat.
With a slow and calculated gesture, the macaque took another step, almost as if in a ritual. In the palm of her hand, the living-flame, which before had hesitated, ascended with a new and vibrant intensity, no longer the orange of sunset, but rather the pure color of the clearest summer sky—blue.
— My name is Khulag. And you stand in the memory of all that has been, of all that is, and of all that may come to be. I am the first Guardian of the World. The pioneer in the mastery of Fire, in the time when tongues were not yet spoken and the Bearers had not yet been born.
Khulag pointed the flaming branch toward the colorful veils that floated around them.
— You came because the fire in your blood called you. Time appears to be safe, and unfortunately, it will not be for much longer. The Eternal Winter... it is not dead.
The mention of the Eternal Winter struck her like a strange and unknown name, even in the spiritual heat of the fire. She had never heard stories, nor legends about an age of endless ice that nearly extinguished life, an era that the sacrifice of the Guardians had ended.
— The Eternal Winter? — She managed to say, her speech still hoarse. — I have never heard of it.
— Ah, my dear, your path is traced by a destiny that haunts and enchants. — Khulag whispered. — Your essence cries out to ignite the embers, like a fire that drives away all and any cold. It is your purpose to exterminate the frozen shadow of the Eternal Winter, when it, inevitably, dares to return. You are the small and vital ardent breath against the ice that consumes all.
Khulag's gaze fixed upon her, piercing her.
— You will have to master the blue flame. All those who are like you will follow her and be inspired by her example. Together, you will march against the Eternal Winter when it emerges.
— I do not know what you are talking about. I am not a Guardian. I am just…
— You have fire within you. I see it. But it is sleeping, only an ember. And with each day, the darkness draws closer to the forest where you are.
Khulag continued to speak:
— Seek, with an open heart, for the signs that whisper in the breeze. The Guardian never truly dies; he merely nestles, like a precious secret, in the webs of the world's memory. You must dive deep and find the true Origin of Fire. The melody of destiny no longer echoes in the chambers of the mountains or in the palaces of nature. It pulses, soft and urgent, in your dream, and in the pure hope that you carry in your hands.
Khulag's murmur faded, slow and grave, like fine sand that slips between the dunes of time, withdrawing beyond the border of the dream. The light, before merely a glow, ignited around the woman, in a rapid dance of colors that intertwined in a spiral. It was a strong attraction, the sensation of being suspended, pulled back gently, like a thread of silk that unravels into reality.
— Falazahr! Time is running out! — The last thing she heard was the dry crack of the flaming branch, before darkness engulfed her completely.
- - -
She awoke with a start, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Her breathing was gasping, and her body trembled, no longer because of the cold, but from the terror of the warning.
The first thing she noticed was that the man was still at her side, lying on his back, and that the faint light of dawn was beginning to seep through the canopy of the trees. The air was cold, but bearable.
She sat up.
It was only a dream, she told herself. But the sensation of the warmth of the fire, the silvery gleam of Khulag's fur, and the callous affirmation of the return of the Eternal Winter were too vivid.
She brought her hand to her neck, where she could feel the frantic pulse. And then, she noticed something that made her freeze. Around her, the soft mud was scorched in a perfect circle, as if a small fire had gone out there, seconds ago.
It was no longer just a dream.