The darkness of the night deepened, bringing with it a chill that forced her to remain awake, a vigil she absolutely did not desire for herself.
Within her body, an agonizing struggle unfolded against the aggression of the cold breeze—the woods, so pleasant during the day, became unbearably cold with the arrival of night, although they were not the most inhospitable places in the world, especially after the end of the Eternal Winter.
She longed for sleep, to finally surrender to slumber, but the time, with its incessant winds, woke her with every attempt to rest.
Suddenly, her body was lightly shaken, an agitation that made her give up entirely on what she needed, a rest from the exhaustion of the walk that had taken her to a nearby river.
— Wake up. You're shaking too much. — The voice, masculine and calm, reached her. — Come on, wake up. — The man repeated.
With an almost painful effort, the woman got up, hesitant to leave the soft ground, covered by the damp, green vegetation. Her eyes met his, charged with an irritation that needed no words. What she wanted most at that moment was the peace of sleep.
— What do you want now? — The tone of her voice was hoarse, dry, exhausted.
— There's a warmer patch of ground, right over there. I believe it will help you sleep better. — He spoke with the certainty of someone who knew that forest deeply, perhaps more than anyone else.
— Are you sure? — The 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 feet. Under the canopy of a plant that resembled a cozy shrub, she lay down. Her eyes fixed on him, who was already settled.
— You keep repeating that no one knows anything, but, from what I see, you're the one who knows the most secrets around here. That intrigues me.
— I like to explore what surrounds me. — He said, turning his back to her, lying on the soft mud. — We had better sleep.
She closed her eyes, for exhaustion finally overcame her resistance to the cold and to prudence. The weariness was a welcome weight, a sign of rest she hadn't been allowed to enjoy a short time ago.
The woman's body sank into sleep as if plunging into dark, tranquil waters. There were no more discomforts, no worries about the cutting breeze. There was only a strange peace, a silence that seemed to absorb any noise from the outside world.
However, the tranquility quickly gave way to a sensation of lightness and floating. She was no longer lying on the soft ground. She was suspended in a void of deep blue, dotted with lights that were not stars, but fragments of energy dancing in a slow, enveloping movement.
In that immense void, where the laws of Earth did not reach, a sweet and growing curiosity sprouted, the intimate certainty that her eyes rested upon something that reason could never grasp or understand, a secret woven with the matter of the purest dreams.
Around her, the void began to condense. The particles of light stretched into a gentle ballet, spinning veils as fine as the rarest silk, which floated with the lightness of a sigh on the wind.
They were not colors that our ordinary eyes could capture, but echoes: a blood-red that pulsed with the very essence of life; an aqua-green, delicate and deep; and a liquid gold, warm and malleable, that gently trickled onto the floor made of pure invisibility, waiting to be absorbed by something more beautiful.
She realized that this was not a common dream—that is, the dream was a debut, visible as never before in her life. The clarity of what she saw was absolute, but the scenario that enveloped her belonged to a spectacle of real impossibilities.
The woman was not there, in the palpable. Her spirit, her purest essence, floated in the in-between, that world suspended over nothing, the spiritual womb of existence where the world's memories, and the very soul of the earth, created their most delicate veils and manifested themselves in whispers of eternity.
A sound filled the environment—a dry crack, like breaking branches. The dark blue floor beneath her feet began to crack, and an orange glow, warm and vibrant, burst from the fissures. It was fire, but unlike 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 one point, spinning and growing until it formed a silhouette. As the flames subsided, a figure was revealed, standing on the now stable and warm spiritual ground.
The creature before her was impressive. She was a monkey, but of a much larger size than any primate, with an upright posture and long, strong arms. What shocked her most, however, was the color of its fur: it was a dull silver, almost metallic, that reflected the glow of that environment. Its large, intelligent eyes were a deep amber.
The monkey wore a necklace made of teeth from some unknown predator and, in its hand, held a simple object, yet one of undeniable power: a flaming branch.
— You're late. — The creature's voice, strangely soft for such a presence, echoed in the void, with pre-ancestral authority, yet tinged with melancholy. It slightly resembled the low crackle of a campfire that refuses to die in the night. — I even thought the cold winds would make you give up coming here.
The woman tried to speak, but surprise and confusion trapped the words in her throat.
— Who... who are you? Where am I?
With a slow and calculated movement, the monkey took another step, almost like a ritual. In the palm of its hand, the living flame, which had previously hesitated, ascended with a new and vibrant intensity, no longer the orange of the sunset, but the pure color of the clearest summer sky—blue.
— My name is Khulag. And you are in the memory of everything that has been, everything that is, and everything that can be. I am the first Guardian of the World. The pioneer in the mastery of Fire, in the time when languages were not yet spoken and the Bearers had not yet been born.
Khulag pointed the flaming branch toward the colored veils that floated around.
— You came because the fire in your blood called you. The time appears to be safe, and unfortunately, it won't be for long. 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 warmth of the fire. She had never heard stories, nor legends about an endless ice age 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 calls out to light the embers, like a fire that wards off any and all cold. It is your purpose to exterminate the icy shadow of the Eternal Winter, when it inevitably dares to return. You are the small and vital burning breath against the ice that consumes everything.
Khulag's gaze fixed upon her, piercing her.
— You will have to master the blue flame. All those who are like you will follow you and be inspired by your example. Together, you will march against the Eternal Winter when it arises.
— I don't know what you are talking about. I am not a Guardian. I am just...
— You have the fire inside you. I see it. But it is sleeping, just an ember. And every day, the darkness draws closer to the forest where you are.
Khulag continued to say:
— Seek, with an open heart, 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 need to delve deep and find the true Origin of the Fire. The melody of destiny no longer echoes in the chambers of the mountains or the palaces of nature. It pulses, soft and urgent, in your dream, and in the pure hope you carry in your hands.
Khulag's murmur faded, slow and grave, like fine sand trickling between the dunes of time, moving away beyond the border of the dream. The light, previously only a glimmer, ignited around the woman, in a quick dance of colors that intertwined in a spiral. It was a strong pull, the sensation of being suspended, gently pulled back, like a silk thread unwinding to reality.
— Falazahr! Time is running out! — The last thing she heard was the dry snap of the flaming branch, before the darkness swallowed her completely.
- - -
She awoke with a start, her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest. Her breathing was ragged, 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 beside her, lying on his back, and that the faint clarity of dawn was beginning to filter through the canopy of the trees. The air was cold, but bearable.
She sat up.
It was just a dream, she told herself. But the sensation of the fire's heat, the silvery sheen of Khulag's fur, and the unfeeling assertion of the Eternal Winter's return 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 just gone out there moments ago.
It was no longer a dream.