The axe slipped from Matheo's hand once again. The log before him remained intact, as if mocking his effort. He took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
"You look like you're fighting the tree, not cutting it." Marcela's voice came from behind, dripping with irony.
Turning around, he saw his friend lift her palm. The wind obeyed instantly. With a single gesture, invisible blades cut the log into clean pieces.
"Too easy." She smiled proudly, making the pieces of wood float around her like feathers.
Matheo let out a short laugh, trying to mask his frustration. He picked up just a small piece of wood and rested it on his shoulder.
"Very funny, for someone who manifested the power of the Black Light. At least this one I managed on my own."
"Sure, sure… The Sunless Day happened ten years ago, Matheo. Most people have already manifested the Black Light." Marcela rolled her eyes, though her expression softened. "One day you'll still surprise me."
The way back was filled with laughter. Marcela kept the wood floating above their heads; Matheo pretended to command the spectacle like a cheap magician, pulling more laughs out of her. Between the two of them, there was always this light air — jokes bordering on flirtation, but never beyond that.
As they crossed the wooden gate of the town, children ran up to them.
"Matheo! Marcela! Did you bring a lot?." A girl shouted, her eyes shining.
Marcela lowered the wood slowly, like magic. All eyes turned to her, but the smiles were for Matheo as well.
"Of course! Enough for the biggest bonfire in the whole world!" Matheo declared with a grand gesture. Though most of it had been Marcela's doing.
Colorful banners were already strung along the cords crossing the central plaza. One resident used the wind to align them perfectly, while another shaped small jets of water to fill shallow plastic pools infused with Black Light energy. They were preparing for the annual June Festival — and this year promised to be especially big.
"It'll be the biggest bonfire we've ever built", said Benedito, the town elder, running a hand through his white beard as he watched the pile of logs grow.
"Thank you for looking after Marcela, Matheo. A young woman like her shouldn't walk the forest alone."
She's probably a thousand times stronger than me, but okay.
Matheo nodded, feeling his heart warm. He liked that feeling: everyone together, laughing, preparing something as one.
As the sun set behind the hills, the town seemed to breathe joy.
Highrock was more than just a cluster of houses in the countryside of São Paulo — it was a town forgotten by time. While the world advanced in technology and explored new possibilities brought by the Black Light, life there moved at a slow pace, almost untouched. In the town's center, the square formed a large circle around a fountain that poured crystal water nearly year-round, refreshing residents during hot, dry months. In winter, however, the fountain was turned off, and in its place rose immense bonfires, where the community gathered to celebrate the traditional June festival — the greatest event on the local calendar.
Despite its name, the houses were all wooden, scattered along the hillside in gentle curves like a great "S" drawn on the ground. But it wasn't ordinary wood: each beam and wall bore the subtle touch of the Black Light, able to hold warmth in winter and release coolness in summer. In Highrocks, heaters and air conditioners had been useless since the Sunless Day.
Every year, during the June festivities, native warriors who had reached levels two and three returned to Highrock. Many already lived in the big cities, where their abilities earned them better opportunities, safety for their families, and a more comfortable life. But at that time of year, they left the urban glow behind and returned to their roots. They were welcomed as heroes, symbols of pride for Highrock. Their presence not only reinforced the festival's security but reminded everyone that, thanks to their courage, the community could light the bonfire, dance under the banners, and laugh around the square without the fear of darkness.
When night came, the town seemed to breathe joy. But the wind carried something strange. A shiver ran down Matheo's spine. He lifted his eyes to the starry sky. And for a moment — just a moment — he swore one of the stars went out.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The rooster's crow still echoed when Matheo opened his eyes. The sun had barely risen. His head throbbed, as if something had whispered during the night. A fragment of dream still haunted him: a figure with white hair lifting his bloodied body. But when he tried to recall it, the scene dissolved like smoke.
He shook his head, pushing the thought away. It was only a nightmare, and today was a day of celebration.
Matheo's house didn't differ much from the others in Highrock, but to him, it was the center of his small world. Two floors of wood imbued with Black Light energy ensured protection and comfort. The walls, though simple, seemed to hold the memory of every laugh and every shared meal. Upstairs was Matheo's room — a modest space, but full of meaning. There, in silence broken only by the distant sound of familiar conversations or the wind rattling the window, he found privacy, his thoughts, and the feeling that even without having manifested the Black Light like the others, there was still a place just for him in the world.
Descending the wooden stairs, Matheo was greeted by the comforting aroma of fresh coffee spreading like an invitation through the house. The breakfast table was nearly ready.
Cássia was a youthful and beautiful woman who had manifested the Black Light three years earlier. She was fifty-seven, though no one would ever guess. She often said this was her second great pride in life. The first was her children. She moved her hands in circles: plates, cups, a steaming pot of coffee, and freshly prepared eggs floated in smooth harmony, landing delicately on the table.
Liriel, his sister, laughed as loudly as any fifteen-year-old could, provoked by one of her father's stories. Her newly manifested energy was still unstable, and each burst of laughter made small branches and roots stir across the wooden floor, as if the house itself were alive.
Antoine, their father, gesticulated theatrically, acting out old memories with a passion that always drew laughter. He had never manifested the Black Light, just like his son, but that didn't mean he lacked good stories about life in the countryside during the seventies. Being the only one, alongside his son, who hadn't manifested the Black Light, Matheo felt at ease around him.
Matheo's heart warmed at the scene. For a moment, he forgot his own weakness. In that home, surrounded by laughter, powers, and human warmth, all he could feel was gratitude.
"Sleep well, son?" Antoine asked, smiling.
"Kind of…" Matheo replied with a smile. "But today will be a good day."
The rest of the morning passed in greetings and chores. Around town, everyone rushed about. Matheo helped an old man carry bags to the market, held a small plastic pool while a young man filled it with water using Black Light, and made mental calculations about perfect lines and curves for where the festival banners should align, patiently explaining to a man who, with effort and the help of Black Light, tried to adjust them in the air. He greeted everyone with that wide smile that made him so beloved.
Passing by the wall, he overheard two warriors arguing:
"I'll take guard."
"No, there's no danger today. Nothing's happened here since the Sunless Day. It won't start now."
Matheo just waved and kept walking.
By evening, he returned home. He found his family gathered in the living room — but something was different. Antoine stood in the center, lifting the furniture without touching it. Chairs floated, the table trembled lightly.
"He… he manifested!" Liriel shouted, eyes sparkling.
Cássia brought her hands to her mouth, tears streaming unnoticed. She ran to her husband, hugging him as if to hold that moment forever. Liriel jumped around them, clapping, while Antoine laughed nervously, still trying to control the furniture that dropped to the floor one by one.
"Did you see that, Matheo?" he said, laughing, chest puffed out. "Looks like I'll finally manage to impress you".
Matheo smiled. He didn't want to dim that light. He walked over to his father and hugged him too, feeling the strength and warmth that had always been there, even without the Black Light. For a moment, he let himself be carried by pride.
"I've always been impressed by you, dad" he whispered, so only he could hear.
Antoine stroked his son's hair, pulling him close to his chest.
"And you make us proud every single day, son."
Matheo swallowed hard, hiding the knot in his throat. Now he was the only one in town without manifestation. The weakest.
Liriel, as if reading his mind, gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder.
"Don't be like that, brother. Even without the Black Light, you're the one carrying the whole town on your back." Her smile was so wide it was impossible not to smile back.
Cássia wiped her tears as Antoine approached Matheo with something hidden in his hand. A simple braided cord with a small wooden pendant carved into the shape of a flame. He placed it around his son's neck with a tired yet tender smile.
"Your mother and I made this for you" he said, voice steady despite the tears in his eyes. "It doesn't matter if you manifested the Black Light or not. You are, and always will be, the love of our lives. That's stronger than any energy flowing from us."
The pendant rested on Matheo's chest as if it had always belonged there. For a moment, the shame he carried dissolved before that gesture, replaced by a warmth no power could mimic.
Hugs. Tears. Pride. The house breathed happiness. Matheo smiled too, deciding it was time to get ready. Tonight was a night of celebration.
The square was lit by countless improvised lamps. Banners danced in the air, moved by a resident's wind. Children ran with balloons in hand. And at the center stood the bonfire: a tower of nearly three meters of wood, infused with Black Light, waiting to be lit by the ritual of the town's twenty warriors.
Marcela approached, smiling.
"Shall we watch together?" she asked softly.
"Of course" Matheo replied, heart racing.
They climbed to the top of the wall. From there, the stars spread across the sky competing with the festival lights. They talked, laughed, and enjoyed that moment of calm.
In an unexpected silence, Matheo noticed Marcela out of the corner of his eye. She was smiling gently, gazing at the stars as if in conversation with them. Usually, silence unsettled him — an awkward void that betrayed nerves. But not here. By her side, silence was light, almost comforting, as if words weren't needed.
He looked at her again. The makeup was delicate, highlighting only the glow of her eyes and the blush of her cheeks, without hiding the natural beauty she'd always had. Her blonde hair fell straight down her back, with bangs framing her forehead perfectly.
Once, Matheo had wondered what beauty truly was. Was it the symmetry of a face? Statuesque bodies? Or simply a personal reflection, intensified by the feelings we hold for someone? Maybe it was a smile, a conversation, a touch.
In that instant, he found the answer. He wouldn't know how to describe it if someone asked, but he knew it was there: sitting beside him, lit by the distant bonfire and the starry sky. Marcela was the very definition of beauty.
Too late, he realized he was staring. His heart pounded, his cheeks flushed; he turned away, embarrassed, praying she hadn't noticed.
"If you keep looking at me like that, I'll start thinking I've got ash from the bonfire on my face" she said with a sly smile, breaking the silence.
Matheo choked on his breath, coughing without finding words. Marcela laughed softly, turning her gaze back to the sky as if she hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.
For a moment, the world seemed perfect.
A thunderous boom echoed through the square.
The bonfire burst into dancing flames, casting everything in shades of orange. They watched in silence, smiles on their lips.
Matheo turned to Marcela, ready to speak — but froze as drops of blood splattered across his face.
Her smile had vanished. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. He followed her gaze downward and saw a black arrow piercing her chest.
"Marcela!" he screamed, desperate.
"Math…"
Her eyes, once full of life, emptied before him. Her body went limp. Matheo caught her, holding her against him.
Before he could call for help, the screams reached him. As he descended the wall, horror unfolded: a horde of more than a hundred creatures stormed the town. Monsters with dark skin and blazing eyes tore through houses, slaughtering some, capturing others. Those who fought were cut down. Those who froze were dragged away from the town.
Matheo ran through the square with Marcela in his arms. At last, he found his family.
Five creatures dragged Cássia and Liriel, while Antoine, newly manifested, tried to face a giant monster, as tall as the bonfire.
"Dad!" Matheo cried, his voice tearing from his throat.
The man didn't answer. The enemy's ice blade pierced his chest once, twice, three times, each thrust spilling crimson and drawing a strangled cry. Antoine resisted, even in shreds, driven only by the instinct to protect.
"No… no!" Matheo shouted, his heart pounding, his legs trembling. Marcela's lifeless body weighed in his arms, and the sight of his father being torn apart was endless torture.
With a cry of despair, he laid Marcela down and charged forward. His eyes met the creature's: a wide, monstrous grin, the hungry gaze of one who delights in others' pain. The hairs on his neck stood on end, but still he punched the monster's stomach. A horrible crack rang in his bones; pain burned like fire, but he didn't stop.
"RUN!" Antoine shouted, coughing blood.
Matheo didn't obey. Tears blurred his vision. He struck again with his other hand, a blind, desperate move.
The creature drove its weapon into his abdomen as if crushing an insect. The world collapsed in pain and darkness. The last images Matheo saw were Marcela's eyes fading and his father's body falling in blood. Then, only silence.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
When he opened his eyes again, he lay on a pile of corpses, lit by the dying embers of the bonfire. At his side was his father's lifeless body, blood spread around him. Even then, Matheo could swear his father's eyes held tears. On the other side lay Marcela's body, broken, still with the black arrow buried in her chest.
And through the smoke, a white-bearded man walked toward him.
Before Matheo could say a word, he fainted once more.