Chapter 35
The Day
Kaep blinked several times, still catching his breath. A faint tingling lingered behind his eyes, a strange sensation, but not painful. He lifted his head and looked at his parents with a confused expression, as if waking from a dream.
"Is it today...?" he asked, his voice still shaky, barely a thread. He fell silent for a moment and tried again, this time with a little more strength. "Has the day come?"
The father and mother exchanged a quick glance, one filled with as much surprise as tenderness. The boy, slowly regaining his stability, straightened up while still speaking, almost to himself.
"Is it today...?" he repeated, looking at his own hands. "I did it… at nine years old..."
Then he slowly turned his head toward his father. His eyes, still that muted violet, seemed to be seeking confirmation, a simple truth only he could give. A smile began to tremble on his lips, a mix of pride and doubt.
"Papa..." he said, his voice firmer now, "am I a genius?"
The father looked at him in silence for a moment. Then he smiled, a quiet smile that carried the weight of many contained emotions. He moved closer without standing, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Yes... yes, Kaep..." he replied with a softness that almost sounded like a laugh. "You're incredible. You're a genius. And you're going to be very strong, I have no doubt about that."
The boy let out a short, bright laugh that completely dispelled the tension of the moment.
The father watched him with a smile that grew little by little, one of those smiles born from pride and ending in a silent gleam in the eyes.
The mother, beside him, lifted her head and couldn't help but do the same: smile.
They looked at each other for an instant and then fixed their attention completely on their son.
They leaned forward. First, the father hugged him tightly. The mother, with a natural movement, joined the gesture, wrapping her arms around them both. The three were intertwined in a close, warm embrace, full of a stillness that needed no words.
Kaep closed his eyes, resting his head against his father's chest, feeling the steady heartbeat beneath the clothes. The mother pressed her cheek against the boy's hair, and for a few seconds, the world seemed to stop around them.
The murmur of the city was still there—the hiss of steam, the footsteps, the voices—but everything sounded distant, as if life had stepped back to leave them that instant alone.
Some passersby deduced the reason. Some murmured congratulations; others envied the potential that boy would have.
The father sighed, still smiling, not letting him go.
"Nine years…" he murmured, almost to himself. "It's only just beginning, Kaep."
The boy hugged them tighter, and the mother squeezed them both, sharing that small moment of simple happiness in the middle of the afternoon.
A few seconds passed in silence, embraced, letting the moment breathe on its own. Then, little by little, the three of them rose. The father stood first, still holding his son's hand, and then helped the mother to her feet. Kaep, more animated, squeezed both their hands, feeling how their hands kept him connected to the two sides of his world.
They resumed their pace.
They walked a few more steps, still holding hands, but the father, noticing the boy was still somewhat weak, bent down with a knowing smile.
"Come here, little one," he said in a low voice.
Little Kaep moved closer.
With a firm, practiced motion, he lifted him and settled him this time on his arm, supporting him with his forearm under his legs and a hand on his back. Kaep clung to his father's neck, enjoying the new perspective.
The mother walked just behind, attentive, her arms ready if the boy were to lean back. Every so often she stretched out a hand, making sure he was firmly held, and the father responded with a calm look that seemed to say, "I've got him."
The boy rested his head on his father's shoulder, smiling, as the rhythm of their footsteps returned to its usual calm. The stones of the path gleamed under the daylight, and the steam from a nearby engine crossed the street in a soft haze.
Together, the three of them continued on.
The sound of the father's boots and the mother's light steps mixed with the city's constant murmur. Kaep, comfortably supported on his father's arm, now looked ahead with a pensive air. His mind kept turning over what had happened, the light he'd felt in his eyes, and the weariness that still weighed a little on his body.
A few seconds passed in silence until the boy looked up at him.
"So, Papa…" he said curiously, dragging the words a little, "what color are my eyes?"
The father turned his head to look at him without breaking stride. The daylight illuminated the small boy's face, and indeed, the violet of his eyes was clearly noticeable now, tranquil, without brilliance, but deep, like a precious stone.
The man smiled, tilting his head slightly.
"Violet," he replied, his tone warm and simple. "They're violet, son."
Kaep frowned, thoughtful. The air left his nose in a little puff, and his voice became almost a murmur.
"So… will I be a psychic?"
The father let out a short laugh, more from tenderness than surprise.
"It seems so…" the father replied, his voice calm but laden with pride.
The mother, walking behind, smiled upon hearing it. Her gaze rested on the boy's eyes, still violet under the golden light of the sunset, and she said nothing.
She just reached out a hand, brushing the small of his back with a gentle gesture, as if her touch confirmed what words couldn't yet fully say: that something in him had changed, and that change was beautiful.
The boy grew thoughtful, watching the sky.
---
They walked a few more steps. The sun filtered through the rooftops, tinting the streets with golden tones, while Kaep watched the world from the safe cradle of his father's arm. The mother walked alongside them.
The father turned his head a little toward her.
"By the way, Sil…" he said in a reflective tone, almost like someone remembering something that couldn't be overlooked. "We'll have to change his class now."
Sil looked up at him, arching an eyebrow, curious.
"Change his class?"
"Yes," the man nodded, glancing sideways at the boy, who was listening attentively. "He can't go with the other new children anymore… now that he's matured."
Sil was silent for a moment. The wind moved a strand of her red hair, and a slight smile appeared on her lips, both nostalgic and proud.
"I suppose you're right," she replied finally. "It will be strange not to see him with his neighborhood group anymore… but there's no other way."
The boy looked at them without fully understanding, his head tilted on his father's shoulder.
"Change my class?" he asked, curious.
The father looked at him and smiled, giving him a little pat on the back.
"Yes, little one. That means you've taken your first step… and from now on, you're going to learn new things."
Kaep became thoughtful, processing the words. He didn't fully understand, but the idea made him smile. He liked how it sounded: "learn new things."
Suddenly, Kaep reacted. He pulled away from his father's shoulder with a jolt, twisting his body enough to look at himself. His expression changed: a mix of surprise and worry etched on his face.
"So…" he murmured, clasping his hands over his chest, "I won't be able to go with Eli?"
He looked up at his father with wide eyes, his voice trembling slightly.
"Will we be separated?" he interrupted, the words tumbling out.
The father stopped. The mother also halted her steps, and the three stood in the middle of the sidewalk, amid the coming and going of people.
The man looked at his son in silence for a few seconds, noticing the wet gleam forming in the boy's violet eyes. Then he sighed and lowered his head a little, pressing his forehead against his son's.
"Hey… easy, Kaep," he said in a low voice. "It doesn't mean you won't see her anymore. It just means you'll be in a different class now, with kids like you."
Kaep pressed his lips together, lowering his gaze to the ground.
"But… Eli is my friend. I don't want her to be alone…" he murmured.
The mother approached slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder and stroking his hair gently.
"She'll grow up too, sweetheart," she told him with a serene smile. "Maybe she'll mature soon as well, and then you'll be together again."
The boy looked at her, trying to find comfort in those words.
"Really?"
"Really," she replied, leaning down a little more until she was at his height. "And if not, you can still see her, talk to her, play when you're out of class. Not everything changes, Kaep… some things just transform a little."
The father smiled hearing her and nodded, giving the boy a few soft pats on the back.
Kaep sighed and, though his brow was still furrowed, leaned back into his father's arm, a little calmer.
The group resumed their pace. The air now had a more peaceful tone.
"Right!" the father suddenly exclaimed, as if something important had come to mind. His voice sounded animated, breaking the brief tension that had been floating in the air.
"Look, Kaep," he continued, turning his face a little to see him better, his red eyes reflecting the soft evening light, "this is something Uncle Laios told me."
The boy looked at him with curiosity, blinking his violet eyes that seemed to absorb every word.
"The first month," the father began, marking the rhythm of his steps with the cadence of someone recounting something important, "you'll still be able to see each other."
Kaep watched him attentively, not saying anything yet.
"Really?" he asked with a hint of hope.
The man nodded.
"Yes. The divisions between Dreamers and… the Dreamless aren't made yet. That first month, everyone stays together. Only after…" he lowered his voice a little, as if sharing a secret, "do the separations begin."
Kaep tilted his head, thoughtful.
"Dreamers and the Dreamless…?" he repeated quietly, testing the words with a mix of curiosity and respect.
"That's right," his father replied, smiling with a touch of nostalgia. "Everyone who matures goes through that process."
The boy looked down for a moment, absorbed in the idea.
"Then… Eli will mature," he murmured.
"She probably won't be long," his mother replied from behind, with a serene smile.
The wind blew softly, moving the boy's strands of hair. His expression relaxed, and a small smile returned to his face.
"So… maybe we won't be separated."
The father nodded, adjusting him a little in his arm as they continued walking.
"Maybe not, son."
The mother smiled at the phrase, and the boy did too.
Noticing that Kaep had accepted the news with a calmer smile, the father let out an almost imperceptible sigh, the kind that relieves without making a sound.
As the boy settled back against his arm, the man lifted his gaze to his wife.
Sil glanced at him sideways, instantly catching that familiar expression: the mix of relief and discreet triumph.
The father, with a half-smile, raised his free hand and, using only his fingers, made a "nice save" gesture.
The mother shook her head softly, suppressing a laugh that escaped as little more than an amused sigh. Her eyes shone with tenderness as she responded to the gesture with a knowing look, the kind that said, "you got away with it this time."
The father smiled again and, without another word, readjusted his pace.
And so they continued walking.
The sound of their footsteps mixed with the street's murmur: distant conversations, the hiss of steam escaping from some machine.
The three of them advanced together, the boy held in his father's arm, the mother at his side, and between them floated a simple, domestic calm that made everything seem in order.
About four blocks later, the view from the sidewalk began to slowly transform.
The shop fronts—with their engraved wooden signs, glass display cases, and the white smoke escaping from some chimneys—were gradually left behind, giving way to a quieter, more uniform stretch.
The bustle of the commercial area faded, replaced by the hollow echo of footsteps on the stone slabs.
With every meter, the walls became simpler, less decorated, until suddenly the line of buildings was interrupted and gave way to a long, reddish wall of dried clay.
The surface, rough and cracked by the sun, stretched along the sidewalk like an irregular rampart. Some cracks revealed the marks of time; here and there, thin yellowish roots peeked out from the joints, as if the earth were trying to reclaim that space.
The air changed too; there was a slight smell of dust and hot clay, mixed with the breeze carrying remnants of the city's steam behind them.
Kaep, still in his father's arms, lifted his head to look at the wall with curiosity.
"What's that, Papa?" he asked, pointing a finger.
The man smiled, adjusting him a little in his arm.
"That wall marks the beginning of the old district," he explained. "All this was part of the original city, before it expanded."
Sil moved a little closer, brushing the surface with her fingertips.
"You can still feel the clay," she murmured. "It's strange to think that everything was like this before."
Kaep watched, fascinated by the cracks and the reddish color that seemed to shift.
"It looks like it's alive," he said quietly, with a child's imagination that saw life in all things.
The father let out a small laugh.
"Maybe it is," he replied, giving him an affectionate tap on the leg.
And so they continued on their way, walking alongside that wall which accompanied them in silence.
The reddish wall continued stretching for several more blocks, following the edge of the street like an endless line marking the division between the old and the new.
On the other side, modern buildings began to appear again, but more spaced out, leaving small gardens or cobbled areas between them.
After covering about three more blocks, the father slowed his pace. To his left, something different interrupted the monotony of the wall: a black iron gate, tall and adorned with spiral details, protruded from the edge of the clay.
The sliding door accompanying it was open, shifted to one side, allowing a view inside the grounds. Beyond the gate, a cobbled path wound between young trees and unlit lampposts waiting for nightfall, even in the day. And at its end, a high wall of red bricks.
There, several families were walking toward the same place. Fathers and mothers accompanied their children, some smaller than Kaep, others older, all dressed in the same uniform. The voices blended into a constant, warm, and expectant murmur, full of greetings and contained laughter.
Kaep's father stopped in front of the entrance, adjusting the boy's weight in his arm.
"Well…" he murmured, observing the flow of people. "We're here. It's a bit far."
"Will have to buy a bicycle," he muttered.
Sil took a step closer, also looking inside.
"It always fills up on the first day of the month," she commented. "Everyone comes to register the little ones who matured."
Kaep watched with wide eyes, observing the other children entering, holding their parents' hands. Some looked around with the same mix of awe and nervousness he now felt.
"Is this… where I'll study?" he asked, pointing inside.
The father nodded slowly, smiling.
"Yes, son. This is it..."
The boy fell quiet for a few seconds, observing the gate, the movement, and the way the evening light made the black bars shine like polished obsidian.
Among the coming and going of families crossing the gate, one couple caught Kaep's attention.
A red-haired man, dressed in a uniform similar to his but black, of simple cut, walked with a firm step beside a blonde woman of similar height, dressed in a simple but elegant two-piece outfit of a light tone.
Holding the woman's hand was a blonde girl, her hair shiny and braided with a sky-blue bow that moved with the rhythm of her steps. She had a lively, curious expression, with large, attentive eyes that soon met Kaep's.
"Kaep!" she called with a broad smile, raising her hand.
The boy recognized her instantly. His eyes lit up, and from his perch on his father's arm, he returned the greeting enthusiastically.
"Eli!"
The four adults smiled at the exchange.
Carefully, the father held him by the waist and slid him down to the ground. Kaep landed softly on his feet, his boots tapping lightly on the slabs. The boy straightened his back and smoothed his hair, looking at Eli with a mix of shyness and joy.
Eli gestured for him to come closer, and Kaep took a step, but still stayed near his parents, looking at them as if seeking one last confirmation.
The father nodded with a smile.
"Go," he said.
Kaep nodded, took a deep breath, and walked toward the gate where Eli was waiting.
The two families advanced almost at the same time, blending into the group that continued to enter.
"Good day, Körper!" Kaep's father greeted, raising his arm and stretching it out with a frank smile.
The shorter red-haired man returned the greeting with the same energy.
"Good day, Mr. Ivan!" Körper responded, taking a couple of steps forward until he stood before him.
The two men shook hands firmly, the dry sound of the contact standing out amid the murmur of families passing around them.
"Accompanying your sister and niece?" Ivan asked, keeping his smile as he slowly released the grip.
Körper nodded with a brief gesture, looking toward the blonde woman who was now talking with Sil and keeping a watchful eye on the girl.
"Yes. They wanted to come together, and they asked me to accompany them. You know how Elara is when it comes to Eli… she can't rest easy if she's not sure of every step."
Ivan let out a light laugh, crossing his arms.
"Seems nothing's changed since we were kids. Always so cautious."
"And you, always so confident," Körper replied with a half-smile. "Though it seems to have worked out pretty well for you."
Both laughed softly. The scene had a warm naturalness, the kind of conversation that arises between acquaintances meeting after a while, with the backdrop of children moving around and familiar voices filling the air.
Kaep and Eli, meanwhile, walked a few steps ahead, observing the inside of the grounds with that mix of curiosity and anticipation only the first days can bring.