Belief and the death of the ego.
Creativity and the birth of the spirit.
What are two of the most important elements to humanity today were nothing but faint dreams at the very beginning, and as the essence of memories myself, I, Erinner, saw everything as if they happened in my presence.
While the empty vessel travelled to all ends of the dark, he spent what looked like an eternity until finally, he caught a glimpse of the Genesis.
When reality was but a dark place, devoid of anything and anyone, THEY poured a little bit of their own on the dark canvas to create light on the first day.
As the essence of creation was born, a little girl hatched from an egg. Thinking that she must have felt lonely, the second day arrived, and THEY created the skies to coat the little one in its embrace as she fell. It was a truly divine sight to behold, if one could have been there to witness it, of course.
On the third day, though she could have fallen forever without complaint, the girl longed for something solid to meet her. And so the first earth took shape — firm ground for her to land upon, with seas to quench her thirst and green vegetation to fill her hunger.
After landing on a beautiful hill, sprinkled with all kinds of flowers, THEY designed two distinct types of heavenly bodies. One that helped the girl grow and stay warm, the sun, and another that helped the girl sleep, dream and think- the moon; The fourth day had come to an end.
As she slept, she dreamt about many other worlds and their heavenly bodies, all filled with their own beauty and beings tasked with the preservation of such- their guardians.
The first land served as a barrier between the flesh and the spirit, its skies were woven with all kinds of different stars. The body was filled with mountains- gigantic in size, and woods- as green as the most beautiful jade, inhabited by both the body and the soul.
Then, through all creation, a shadow fell — as if the world itself unfolded around it. Sand stirred, rain descended, snow melted, storms raged, thunder cracked, and even the still air whispered.
Like some primal force, the figure felt a bond with all things, as though everything was one.
The daydream was cut short.
"BOY!" an angry voice tore through the crowd.
The blind child flinched, torn from visions of falling and beginnings, and found himself not in a dream but on a stage. Around him gathered a strange mix of revelers: some in sweat-stained jumpsuits, others in gowns far too fine for a place like this. The rift between the wealthy above and the workers below was clear — yet for this night, they were united by what they wore.
The dark wall in front of him had red eyes popping up from every corner, until a weak stage light illuminated the crowd. Everybody, both young and old, wore masks. Some those of animals, others- or the rich, chose mystical and fictional beings and beasts, but none resembled the other. While most of the men had them tied around their head, women, and once again- more fortunate women were using luxurous sticks adorned with special engravings and jewellery to hold them against their faces.
It was a Saturday evening in Belburg. The workers had finished their long day above, and now the crowd pressed into The Garden for release.
The blind boy stood stunned by the weight of so many unseen eyes — until a gentle voice reached him. A girl in a golden mask and a black dress clasped his hand. Her flawless dark skin shimmered beneath the stage light, elegant and composed.
"Focus," she teased, brushing her fingers over his black blindfold and guiding his face back to her. At once, he steadied, as if following some hidden command. Then, slowly, they began to dance. Step after step, they mirrored one another, their movements tender and fluid, carrying an elegance almost phantasmal.
The melody swelled, and soon the room itself seemed to fall under their spell. To the onlookers, the sight of a blind child outshining every dancer they knew was not strange at all. Most were regulars. They had seen it before — and yet, still, they were captivated.
After a short moment of silence, the two began to take a few steps back till they were about ten steps apart from each other. An older woman, clad in a purple dress emerged from the back. Her baby-smooth pale skin, curvy body, silky golden hair, plump lips and sapphire eyes were almost too good a match for someone who lived in the slums.
As she walked out, her arms were raised in grandeur.
In an imposing tone that only the most confident woman in all of Stellaria could express themselves in, she shouted,
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"
As if she enchanted them, the kids, the drunk men, the friends and families all fell into absolute silence.
„The Garden will hereby enter today's finale!"
Another silence followed, until...
"YEAAHHHHHH!" ...A group of drunkards screamed, and the entire crowd applauded in anticipation and excitement, and while they did, the curtains closed.
It was a reaction that only could have been attributed to The Garden, a once famous bar that featured all kinds of artists, dancers and actors a long time ago. Nowadays, the place's reputation has since shrunk down to a local bar where families, friends and blue-collar workers seek to enjoy a nice evening after a long day or week of work. All the years of deterioration and abandonment by celebrities have taken a toll on the building's look-, a so-called "Belburg special".
But in the end, one woman decided not to give up on all of the memories the establishment had created.
Approximately two minutes had passed before she returned.
"RAISE THE CURTAINSSSS!"
The female voice sang.
The clapping intensified until she weaved her hand as if directing a choir, and it was in that same moment, that the building went back to silence.
"As all of you may know, this place isn't what it used to be a long time ago...-"
As she uttered her first sentence, she tried to carefully choose her next words.
"The de- p-people... People have turned a lot more aggressive over the past few years, which led to many of you rather staying home during the night...- BUUUUT, we are approaching the last year, and with that, this whole place will be born again! As a means to celebrate this, Bando over here will play something special for us on the Piano!"
Two incredibly buff men in black suits (that were clearly not made for their size) carried a grand piano from the back and placed it in the middle of the stage.
The crowd already knew what was coming. As part of the tradition, everyone rose from their chairs. The men cleared the floor, the women readied themselves, and the children braced. Steam billowed across the ground, gears groaned and shifted, and after a few clanking noises, the building's roof split open, revealing the vast cosmic wall beyond.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I- Vanessa Vantoria ask you to remove your masks as you enjoy the night and join me, as we celebrate the arrival of a new year!"
"Bando! Let the world rejoice as you play "Star of hope"!"
She went up to him and grinned.
As the masks were taken off, smiles were gathered, and a weirdly familial essence graced the room.
"The blind boy will play on the piano?" A curious girl asked. Many children posed the same question, but it were the adults, and most of the drunkards who looked at the kid with joy and anticipation, fully believing in his capabilities.
***
...It was around 6pm when the first stroke hit.
Then followed a mellow melody, its notes accompanied by the gentle light of the cosmos; a subsequent guidance of the Lunaria and its children immersed the room. Families, both young and old, were enchanted into a dance. The song was telling a story. Not of a slum or a dystopia, but a realm and a people, who served as the first seed of creation.
While the sweet melody kissed the many people listening, Bando had intended an entirely different message for the song, but as he felt the tranquil scene around him intensify, even he couldn't help but be captivated.
In ways more than one he was less than special- especially compared to the other kids in the room, but his passion for music never eased despite his condition.
Yet beneath the harmony, a voice lingered. A whisper.
"... .. ...."
It muffled something.
***
Several hours had passed since the performance, and the Garden was winding down. As always, the locals — children, parents, even the elders — helped clean up, a small tradition of thanks for the joy the place gave them.
But one child had something else in mind.
As Bando entertained a circle of kids with his blindness, laughing along with their questions, a small girl squeezed through the crowd and stood before him. Her cheeks burned red, her fingers fidgeting restlessly. She was hard to miss: brown skin streaked with dirt, dark curls tangled over her shoulders, an oversized ripped shirt barely covering her frame.
The other children recoiled, holding their noses, but Bando tilted his head. What caught him wasn't her ragged clothes — it was her eyes, deep purple and unblinking. He couldn't 'see' them per se, but he knew that there was something about them.
Without a word, she took his hand, pressed something into his palm, and closed his fingers around it. Then she bolted into the night.
"...A bracelet?"
The craft was rough, childish, but thoughtful. Etched into its surface were characters he could feel: B + 07.
Made for someone who couldn't see.
The kids whispered and laughed nervously, but Bando only sat in silence, turning the inscription between his fingers. He noticed something about her as she left.