Prologue

The Old Man

«Brr, such a cold», he whispered in the dark, rubbing his hands against each other, trying to warm them. He blew gently over it, hoping that his warm breath might give him some comfort, but nothing could prevent the cold of that autumn night from entering under his skin and reaching his bones.

He was so cold he couldn’t walk. His legs began to fail because of his age, as he was no longer the young man he once was.

The streets of the lower town were deserted, while the men were locked in the taverns between the pleasures of alcohol and the good company of some prostitute who would pay at the end of the night. In the distance, he could see the lights on above the walls, inside which had been built Sierra, the capital of the kingdom of Haefest. The latter was dominated by Urian Fannil, the place he had dreamed of seeing since he was a child. He was finally there, in the city of red leaves.

It was so-called because, throughout the year, the streets were covered with red leaves of trees that usually, once dried because of autumn, fell from the branches, and lay on the road.

The darkness hid the natural shapes of the central fortress, but he didn’t care. For years, he had imagined that place and that smell of wet grass, calm, and peace; the autumn frost infiltrating his bones was a pleasant sensation compared to the usual torrid heat.

As he walked closer and closer to the city’s centre, inns stood all around him, tall stone buildings within the walls, and the city’s market places that were closed at that time of night.

The rest around him kept quiet, but he could hear the laughter of men and women coming from the taverns and his heavy footsteps. The grinding of his feet caused the rustling of the leaves on the ground, moved in his passage. His legs began to fail. Unfortunately, he was no longer as strong and resilient as he was.

As he continued, he approached the outer wall of an inn, leaning with his hand; at the touch of his palm, he felt the icy stone that burned his skin, giving chills to his whole body.

He looked up to see the clear sky, the absence of clouds allowed the moon to shine in its beauty. She shone high in the sky, accompanied by her daughters, the stars surrounding her illuminating that cold and dark night.

“Is it my time, Moon Goddess?” he asked heaven with a tired voice.

Probably yes, his time had come.

He looked around, trying to memorise everything around him. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and leaning against the bricks, dropping to the ground, touching his shoulders against the icy tiles. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, savouring all those ancient smells that surrounded him, but for him, also new.

He put his hands on the stones in the middle of the dirt on the road, letting the latter dig grooves in his palms. He tasted every sensation, impressing it well into his mind and letting his mother caress him one last time.

“Wlite ga niir….” What a beauty. “Moon, my mother, accompany me in this journey, help me understand... to be cleansed from the evil, atone me from all my sins so that it may reach you.”

A tear fell down his cheek, resting on the white, long, dirty beard, and then he wiped it with his thumb.

“I couldn’t make up for my mistakes... Nerung Frea,” he concluded, looking up at the sky.

“Do you already beg, Old Man?” he opened his eyes.

A sudden gust of wind had extinguished all the torches of the road where he was standing: the air had become colder, the frost was binding his bones while a chill mixed with fear struck him. When he looked up, he saw the dark figure in front of him.

The young man stood right in front of the old man, with his back leaning against the building opposite the one where he was.

“Everybody asks for forgiveness one day or the other, son.” The young man’s body was protected by a coat, an ornament of black smoke, and shadows covering his head. The old man couldn’t see his face, but he knew who he was; he could tell by the bright blue irises in contrast to all that darkness.

“It seems like a nice return to the origins. Did you miss it?” the old man asked, breathing anxiously.

The effort was killing him; every breath turned into condensation at encountering the surrounding icy air. The man in black took off his hood and looked around before approaching with giant strides and stopping right in front of the old man.

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time now.” He stood at his height, crouched on his heels, his elbows resting on his knees so that he could look him in the eyes.

The old man looked back, looking at those blue irises. He felt the same feeling he had at first contact with the cold wall. While those icy eyes were looking at him, he felt paralysed: he could not move even a muscle of his body. He didn’t know if it was because of the frost or the fear; it was probably for both.

“The last place I thought I’d find you. What is it, old man? Do you ask them for help?”

And with his eyes, he pointed to the fortress.

Automatically his head turned in that direction to observe it. He did not know why that vision gave him hope, but finally, he could feel hope reborn within him after a long time. Maybe they weren’t ready, but they were there, alive, and they could prepare. Elhiás would lead them to salvation, especially her.

“You know you can never win, right? It is a useless war you are trying to start”, the old man said, looking at the fortress, while the man in black puffed as if to mock him.

“Useless? We just want to take back what belongs to us from birthright.” Another voice interrupted the silence.

They both turned their heads in the direction it came from. The man in black put his knee on the ground and looked closely at her. The woman was sitting on the edge of the roof in front of them, her legs crossed and her hands laid on the house’s tiles, each one on the sides of her body. She was also covered in that black smoke, but her face wasn’t covered. The moonlight illuminated her pale and delicate face; even from there, he could admire the girl’s beauty.

“What are you doing here? I told you I’d take care of it,” the man in black looked at her.

“I was bored; I just wanted to have some fun.” The girl waved a hand, and all the torches rekindled. He turned to the fortress and remained motionless, staring at it. “It is the first time I have come here. I always imagined how Sierra was made; I imagined it full of red and autumn flowers; I dreamed of the smell they could have.” She closed her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head. “Dreams of a stupid, naive little girl,” she continued, opening her eyelids. The irises were red like rubies fed by a burning fire, impossible to extinguish.

She took a deep breath, gave herself a push with her hands, and jumped down. The jump was gentle; it didn’t even sound when she hit the ground with her heels. She landed with one knee and palms on the floor.

She got up and approached them, staring at the old man.

“All this is a lie. All this was built by the blood of our ancestors, the blood of innocents, blood that was sacrificed by the king of Sierra, as all four other kings did. Everything to follow the will of false gods, who don’t care about the fate of the people... but only that of the few chosen, right?” she exclaimed angrily, while the colour of her eyes slowly returned to normal.

As their emerald green returned to the light, he watched that red fade. Those eyes, however, were not as bright as they once were, now they were dead, icy, and empty, but the old man knew that deep down, that sweet and warm girl still existed, even if she tried to hide behind a mask of frost and indifference.

“You were never useless, mor lif,” he looked at her carefully, hoping for something he didn’t even know.

“I am no longer a child, Har. Praying in ancient language will not help you; these false gods will not help you. The time has come” she turned to the man, nodded her head, and then looked back at the fortress. Her gaze suddenly became melancholy.

“What is there, child? Can’t you look at death? Do you miss him?” he asked in the ancestral language. The old man nodded at the fortress, trying to break through her armour, inside which she wanted to protect herself.

“I feel nothing,” she said in the common language. She didn’t even look at him as she started to walk in the opposite direction of the fortress.

“Close the matter quickly. We must leave before they notice our presence,” she continued to her companion.

“Are you afraid that someone will see you, mor lif? Yet, you should fear nothing, at least not in your condition.” Their meeting had become a game of looks; the old man tried to steal some information and weakness to know if there was still hope for her. She had undoubtedly become good at hiding her emotions. “I remember when you were a child you and ran everywhere. You disappeared for hours, driving your mother crazy, and then we found you hidden somewhere with a book in your hand.”

The old man smiled, remembering the little girl who was full of curiosity and always wandered into his study room. “You were so sweet to everyone, even to your fa...”

“Stop, old man! I can no longer stand your ranting. You swore us loyalty, bowed before us, and then betrayed us! Did you think we’d let you go around spilling our secrets?”

Her eyes turned from emerald green to bright red; all around the pupils formed black veins that pulsated like boiling blood. The air suddenly got warmer, and the torch fire seemed more intense. She approached him, full of anger.

“You will die, old man... there is nothing that can save you, nothing that can save them. It is over.” While facing each other, a fire broke out in the lower town.

From their position, they could hear the cries of the guards moving in the direction of the fire. The old man observed the woman’s irises returning to their natural colour.

She was so close to him that he could feel her heart beating. Then it’s still there beating. The girl took a deep breath and got up. She turned her back, put on the hood to cover her face, and then began to leave.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said to her partner.

“You speak too much... you with the old man.” The man approached the elder and observed him while the old man looked up to watch the moon again.

If he had left, he would have done so by looking at the beauty of the Goddess of the Night. Around them, the voices increased and grew stronger and stronger. People shouted the guards gave orders; from his position, he could see the light of the fire and the shadows of the people who flocked to try to put it out. The old man sighed.

“I was just trying to save both of you.”

He could feel the girl’s gaze while the front man laughed.

“Save us? It’s too late for that now... but tell me, Har, who will save you now?”

“I never wanted this, especially for you, little girl. I miss the old you”, he said, looking at her who gave him her back.

“She no longer exists; perhaps she never existed. It is possible that she was only the facade to cover the monster that I am.” The girl wasn’t looking at him, trying to hide her emotions.

This reassured him that there was still hope for her, they could still save her, but she was so close to the abyss. He could help her, the old man was sure; at that moment, a new certainty made its way into his mind, and he could only hope that the message would arrive in time. His mission was over.

After almost a century, he could finally say goodbye to that body and the weight that it carried with it, like all the faults that gripped him.

“I feel my faults, especially not being able to save you, to prevent all this from happening to you. I only hope you will forgive me one day, mor lif.” Those words came out in the old language, knowing how important they were for her.

He looked one last time to the moon and then heard the sound of the glove being pulled out of the young man’s hand. He placed it on his chest with slight pressure and tore the skin grabbing his heart. He wasn’t afraid of death; he wasn’t scared to meet her; she was like an old friend he’d been hiding from for too long. He could finally end that hunt.

He could approach her and shake her hand, letting her take him under her wing as if she had been waiting for him for an eternity. When he felt his hand grab his heart, he felt no pain, only liberation, and a smile appeared on his face while his eyes looked one last time at the moon’s majesty.