The morning sun poured over the Valley of Sereno, dyeing gold the wheat fields that swayed gently with the breeze.
It was not the opulent gold of legends that spoke of distant kingdoms and unreachable lands, but the humble and comforting golden hue of the promise of a good harvest.
The air, thick with the vitality of rural life, smelled of freshly turned damp earth, the unmistakable scent of fresh bread escaping from the communal bakery, and the sweet fragrance of wildflowers that adorned the edges of dirt paths snaking like veins through the landscape.
At the heart of the valley, the village of Sereno was a mosaic of thatched and wooden rooftops, each a testament to years of labor and community.
A crystalline stream, so pure that the stones at its bottom were clearly visible, wound its way with a constant melody between the houses before flowing into the old watermill, whose blades turned with a lazy yet persistent rhythm.
The sounds were those of daily life, a symphony of peace:
the distant, rhythmic clang of a blacksmith's hammer against the anvil,
the carefree laughter of children playing near the well,
and the soft murmur of conversations drifting from the homes,
filled with the simple worries and small joys of another day.
For Kaelen, this was the entire world, a sanctuary,
a paradise that seemed to exist outside the bounds of time,
ignorant of the tales of horrors and the shadows weaving beyond the majestic and protective mountains that embraced the valley.
---
Kaelen, eighteen years old and with a silhouette more agile and slender than most boys his age accustomed to heavy farm work,
moved with the lightness of someone who knew every path, every nook, and every tree of the valley like the palm of his hand.
His silver-white hair, almost iridescent, seemed to catch and reflect every ray of sunlight, creating a pale halo around his head.
In contrast to this shine, his deep amethyst-colored eyes sparkled with an unmistakable mix of childlike curiosity and youthful idealism that had yet to be tested.
His skin was lightly sun-kissed, a sign of his hours spent outdoors,
but still lacked the scars and roughness he would soon accumulate.
He wore simple and functional rustic clothing, typical of a villager:
a linen tunic in earth tones and sturdy pants,
perhaps with a pale blue scarf tied around his neck—a meaningful gift Lígia had given him during the last solstice.
There was a spark of innocence and hope in his demeanor,
a lightness that would soon be replaced by the crushing weight of the world,
a burden that would bend him until it broke him.
---
That morning, Kaelen had been helping his father repair the pasture fence,
a monotonous but necessary task.
His hands, though skilled, felt restless.
His mind often wandered, fluttering like a butterfly toward the river,
toward the bank where he knew he would find someone—
someone whose presence was a balm for his spirit and a promise of joy.
The image of Lígia, her laughter,
the way her golden eyes crinkled when she smiled,
was a magnet that pulled him stronger than any duty.
After hammering the last plank in place, securing the fence's integrity,
Kaelen wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand
and headed without hesitation toward the stream's edge,
where it wound its way to the old stone bridge—a favorite meeting spot.
It didn't take long to see her.
---
Sitting cross-legged by the shore,
her bare feet submerged in the cool, bubbling water,
was Lígia.
Her long, fiery red hair fell over her shoulders like a scarlet cascade,
seeming to ignite even more under the sunlight.
Her eyes, of a bright and warm golden hue,
reflected the blue sky and emerald green of the valley with astonishing purity.
She was weaving a basket from reeds,
her fingers agile and precise,
a soft, wordless song on her lips—
a simple but sweet melody Kaelen knew as well as his own heartbeat.
"Escaping from work again, Kaelen?" Lígia joked without looking up from her task,
her voice melodic like the murmuring of the stream.
But a smile was already forming unmistakably on her lips,
one Kaelen always found contagious.
Kaelen let himself fall beside her onto the grass,
feeling the cool earth beneath him,
the scent of water and freshly cut grass filling his lungs.
"Work can wait, Lígia. It always waits.
But I can't say the same for good company."
He smiled at her, and part of him delighted in the light blush that appeared on her cheeks,
a blush he always found charming.
"Besides, Master Elías wanted to see me later.
Something about the ancient language of the stars, or maybe the meaning of dreams during the New Moon.
He always has something fascinating to share."
Lígia looked up then,
her golden eyes gleaming with a playful spark that never failed to captivate Kaelen.
"Always buried in books, huh?
Always with Master Elías and his old stories and scrolls.
Don't you get tired of that stuff?
I'd rather have a real adventure, with swords and monsters and brave knights."
"Knowledge is its own adventure, Lígia," Kaelen replied.
His gaze wandered to the flowing water,
carrying leaves and tiny insects along.
"Master Elías says that in the old tomes lie truths the world has forgotten.
That wisdom is our best defense against ignorance and fear, which make us vulnerable.
He says understanding the past is the only way to build a better future."
---
Elías, Master Elías, was without a doubt
the heart and soul of the small community of scholars that lived in the oldest, highest part of the valley,
near the ruins of a tower said to have once been an ancestral observatory.
With his midnight-blue hair falling straight
and his pearl-gray, almost ethereal eyes
that had seen countless winters and harvests,
he was a figure of unshakable calm and deep wisdom.
His face, marked by deep expression lines,
were not signs of age but the silent testimony of a life lived with compassion,
reflection, and perhaps a hidden sorrow.
His hands, though no longer as agile as a young man's, were strong and skillful—
the hands of a man who had worked the land and the parchment with equal diligence.
He had been Kaelen's moral beacon,
teaching him not only about ancient history and celestial constellations,
but—more importantly—
about the essence of compassion,
the unwavering pursuit of justice,
and the persistence of light even in the densest darkness.
He believed, with an unshakable faith that inspired everyone,
in the inherent goodness of mankind
and in civilization's ability to overcome barbarism—
a belief young Kaelen had absorbed like a sponge, never once questioning its truth.
---
"Nonsense," Lígia replied with a giggle, a small burst of joy.
Then, with a gesture as natural as breathing,
she rested her head on Kaelen's shoulder.
The contact was simple, comfortable,
the silent proof of years of unconditional friendship,
of a bond that went beyond words.
"The best defense is a good hiding place or a handful of well-thrown pebbles,
like my grandmother taught me when I was little.
The world is big and dangerous, Kaelen.
There's no book that prepares you for the edge of a sword or the growl of a beast.
Real life is much more complicated than any legend."
Kaelen felt a pang of unease at her words,
a shadow that briefly flickered over his heart,
cold and foreign to the warmth of the moment.
Lígia was right, of course;
the outside world was vast and unknown,
full of stories Master Elías only told in whispers and with a somber expression.
But here, in the Valley of Sereno,
under the kind sun and surrounded by the life he knew,
those threats seemed as distant and fantastical as the dragons in children's tales.
It was a fleeting thought, a disregarded warning,
quickly drowned by the warmth of the moment and Lígia's undeniable closeness.
"Maybe you're right," Kaelen conceded,
watching a small silver fish swim gracefully between Lígia's fingers,
unaware of any concern.
"But as long as we're here, there's nothing to worry about.
Here, we're safe."
Lígia nodded,
her smile soft and pure,
her golden eyes reflecting the sunlight.
"Yes. Here, we're safe. Forever."
---
Neither of them knew how fleeting that "forever" would be.
Nor that the pristine beauty of the Valley of Sereno
would soon be consumed by the scream of blood and horror—
a baptism of fire that would etch madness into Kaelen's soul,
transforming him into something unrecognizable.
The promise of that peaceful day would fade,
leaving only a trail of ashes and the echo of despair.
---