The Place Where Time Stands Still
There are places where time does not flow.There, men hear what the gods stopped saying millennia ago.
The journey north lasted days—or perhaps years.Kael did not know.In that wasteland of stone and ice, time had become a sleeping animal: still, indifferent to the seasons.The child walked ahead of him, barefoot, leaving no footprints on the snow.From time to time, he murmured words in a language that made the air vibrate.Sometimes, Kael felt those words pass through him, rearranging the thoughts inside his head.
The sky was a gray vault, without sun or moon.And yet, there was light.A cold, steady light, as if it were born from the earth itself.
One night, they camped beside a vast rift that split the mountain in two.Kael lit a small fire, more out of habit than for warmth.The child sat before it, silent.
—Why do we keep walking? —Kael asked at last.The child looked up.—Because you haven't arrived yet.—Arrived where?—At the end of your voice.Kael frowned.—What does that mean?—Every man has an echo. Yours hasn't finished speaking.—And you? Do you have one?—I am the echo —the child replied.
The wind blew harder.For an instant, Kael thought he heard ancient laughter, prayers rising from the ice itself.
At dawn, the rift before them had changed.It was no longer a natural opening but a carved doorway: a stone arch covered in symbols Kael vaguely recognized.They were of the same language the child used in his dreams.
—What is this? —Kael asked.—The place where the gods slept after growing weary of creation.—And why have we come here?—Because you woke them—without meaning to —said the child, and entered.
Kael hesitated.The air from the rift was warm and carried a strange fragrance: neither incense nor ash, but something purer—like the scent of a blank page before the first word is written.He followed the child inside.
The interior was an endless cavern.The walls were covered with human hands carved into the rock—thousands of them, all different, all pointing toward the same place: an altar at the center.Above the altar floated a sphere of liquid crystal, and inside it… fire.A fire that did not burn, but revolved, like a thought suspended in time.
Kael took a step.The echo spread in all directions.The fire responded.
Images flooded his mind:the burning temples, his sword piercing innocent flesh, his wife's face reflecting the glow of the flames.But this time, beside every vision, there was another: a woman with a silver veil, watching him with compassion.
"Fire purifies, but love condemns."
—Why do you keep appearing? —Kael whispered.—Because you still don't know what you are —answered the bodiless voice.
The fire in the sphere stirred, and from its center emerged a figure: not the woman, not a god—but Kael himself, made of light.
The child watched calmly.—That is you before you lied to yourself.—What… am I?—You are the fire that killed the gods.
Kael stepped back.—That's impossible.—Everything impossible sleeps here —said the child—. You weren't chosen to destroy them. You were their flame. Their instrument.—You lie!—No. You lit the world—and then tried to forget.
Kael felt the weight of the air crushing him.The entire cavern trembled.The carvings of the hands began to move, as if applauding in silence.
"Kael Dren, Inquisitor of the Pure Flame.""Kael Dren, Heir of the First Fire.""Kael Dren, the one who ignited the gods."
The inquisitor fell to his knees.The child approached.—What do you see? —he asked.—The beginning —Kael whispered.—Then remember the end.
Everything turned white.
Kael found himself on an endless plain of ash and extinguished stars.In the center, the woman with the silver veil awaited him.
—Are you a memory or a promise? —Kael asked.—I am what you left behind when you lit the fire —she said—. Your love. Your faith. Your true name.—And why do you return now?—Because the fire fades, and someone must remember who lit it.
She came closer.For the first time, Kael saw her entire face.It wasn't human.It was his own.
"The fire that destroys is the same that creates."
Kael reached out, and she touched him.The contact was like holding a flame: it didn't hurt, but it emptied him.He felt his soul divide, part of it staying with her—within the infinite.
When he awoke, he was kneeling before the altar.The child watched him carefully.
—You have remembered —he said.Kael breathed deeply.—I have remembered too much.—Then you can decide.—Decide what?—Whether the fire should burn again.
Kael looked at the fire suspended in the sphere.It was neither red nor gold.It was gray—like ash.And he understood: fire was not destruction. It was choice.
He drew a breath.Raised his sword.And plunged it into the sphere.
The fire vanished.The echo faded.And for the first time, silence was absolute.
The child approached and touched the still-smoking blade.—The fire sleeps within you now —he said—. Until someone needs it again.Kael closed his eyes.—And you? What will you do?—Wait for the next echo.
Kael smiled faintly.And as the northern wind erased his footprints, he understood that infinity was not a place, but a voice that never stops fading.
And so, Kael Dren walked into nothingness,with the fire asleep in his chestand the echo of the infinite resounding in his soul.