The first ray of sunlight that entered the room rested suspiciously on the beautiful face of a woman. The starry sky faded between oranges and yellows, the darkness that covered the city began to dissipate between the cry of a mysterious rooster and the dreamlike world that still trapped a female body in a state of drowsiness. Her arms and legs sailed slowly on the silk sheets, the sounds from outside began to be processed by his mind between Gregorian chants and bells that began the six o'clock ceremony. At the moment of the sixth bell, the woman's brain landed wildly in the reality that awaited her on a day like this. So it was that for the first time her eyes were opened on that ninth day of the ninth month.
Adrenaline flooded her body and through a mechanic action her motors began the daily routine. With gentle grace she slipped between the breeze that came through the balcony and in a hurry she entered the room from which hot water began to flow. The pristine water ran through every inch of her slender figure, the immaculate light gleamed in reflection of her clear and smooth skin, in that shower the angelic song from outside was perceived in accordance with the movements of that dancing body. The flow of water abruptly stopped following the woman's wishes and her hand, surrounded by a light beam, headed out. In her graceful hands she took an intricately ornate fabric and in seconds the distinctive touch of cotton was determined by her body. A chaotic order linked the movements of the woman, who eagerly dedicated those moments to reproach herself for the great mistake that had been letting herself be entangled by the arms of Morpheus. That day, the only day that really mattered, she had given herself body and soul to the worldly pleasures of laziness. And how much she internally cursed herself for it.
Her silhouette moved with agility around the room where she was staying, and in a matter of seconds wooden doors were opened wide. On view was an elegant and sumptuous suit that highlighted her angelic essence. That outfit had been expressly selected to accompany her work in that city of saints and miracles. Her dress should represent the importance of her merits, and the legacy that she brought with her as a representative of a distant land. She stepped into the beautiful pieces and with the grace of a bird her corporeal elements were soon found safe within the delicate fabric. Time, however, seemed to flow with the laziness of someone who doesn't want something, and for that the woman was internally grateful.
She reverently approached a beautiful engraved wooden box and from it she extracted its contents with the devotion of a servant. A golden bracelet with a bright brown jasper as the center of the piece was quickly placed on her wrist. In her morning trance she could only kiss the rock and quickly pack the remaining contents of the box into her jacket.
She was prepared for whatever she had to face today, or so she wanted to believe. And in the midst of her train of thought a door slammed shut and her legs began to run rapidly down the hallway outside her room. The moment her body left the hotel where she was staying, the wheels of fate began to turn strongly.
In the middle of a hurried but graceful run, she headed for her goal: a huge construction with lots of carved ornaments. The structure, of colossal proportions, could be seen kilometers from the place, the king star perched on the top of its dome and the shadow of a gigantic cross illuminated the square that preceded the sacred temple. The woman dodged as best she could the bodies that, like her, executed endless movements in order to reach their destination. However, this did not prevent those female eyes from delighting in an incomparable view, a city built from scratch a few hundred years ago that shone with a celestial halo, inseparable from its own nature. Religious figures adorned every corner that was left behind by an upset woman, aware of her responsibilities and yet not oblivious to the beauty that attracted the gaze of all visitors to that capital like a magnet. In that city was concentrated one of the greatest spiritual energies in the history of mankind. And the epicenter of the divinity that expanded between streets of rock and conglomerates in liturgical clothes was that building that the woman had to reach in a matter of minutes. The "mythical capital of miracles" was the place from where the story of an unprecedented meeting began, and also a crisis never seen before.
The Woman of the Jasper paused for a second at the security perimeter established around the plaza and the building. She cautiously approached the main entrance of the cordon and from her pocket took out an identification that she presented to an officer with a wizened face and considerable years. The officer rejected it before the presentation of The Woman of the Jasper and indicated that such a requirement was not necessary. Her name was on the entry list that contained those invited to the event that was taking place. That and nothing else, was proof of her belonging in that place.
The Woman of the Jasper thanked him and, following the man's instructions, moved in the direction of a red carpet that continued from the cordon to the doors of that immeasurable building. It was the first time that she saw in person the most important divine monument in the entire region: The Basilica.
Outside, a white structure with gold trim gave the impression of shining along with the sun's rays. The aura that accumulated around it deceived the senses and immersed them in a sensory journey, from where the sacred songs and the great liturgies were proffered naturally. The Basilica was one of the most important architectural monuments of all time, its spiritual load and its majesty left even the most skeptical breathless. And on that red carpet along which the The Woman of the Jasper, other entities also walked, product of the meeting that would take place in a few moments.
Colorful suits, elegant dresses, royal robes and colorful colors were the norm within the conglomerate that calmly entered through the main entrance. The Woman of the Jasper allowed herself to be impressed little by little by the atmosphere that began to take shape from the welcome path through which she was traveling. The red catwalk was preceded by innumerable crowds that refused to take their eyes off the characters that greeted the population from time to time. A greeting was all it took to make a thousand voices cry out in a cacophony of praise and curses. In this place, each individual had their favorites and their despicable ones, just as in each home there was a different conception of the actions of each member who was part of the meeting. For reason and the heart, an eternal conflict would always exist as long as the personal and the professional aspects of life were mixed. And those men and women participating in the event were par excellence the definition of that mix. After all, their lives would always be subject to public scrutiny, and their actions would represent the will of millions. Such is the virtue and curse of a ruler.
The Woman of the Jasper finished walking the red carpet, and for a moment she looked back to let a prayer escape from her sweet lips. Today she entrusted herself to her personal angel, the one who had left her that box as a legacy, and in the midst of her nerves and anxiety she asked him to enlighten her to carry out everything that depended on her. In said meeting, more than one destiny would be playing jointly.
The sun abandoned the silhouette of the woman and with the resounding sound of a stampede the gigantic doors closed after the entrance of the last missing member. Before the entrance closed completely, The Woman of the Jasper's gaze met the yellow eyes of a raven in the central plaza; He was definitely watching.