Lord of the Waterfall

The still-visible moon glowed with a pale light. Clouds, pushed by the wind, drifted lazily across the sky, as if dragging a tremendous burden. Several shapes floated in the air. Their silhouettes were vaguely outlined against the dark sky. It was difficult to guess what they were. They circled like ghosts from an unreal dream, making irregular circles, most likely in search of food. A man sitting on the beach had been observing them for some time. Dressed in a green hooded jacket, leather pants, and boots, he gazed out at the vast expanse of water stretching to the horizon, reflecting the moonlight. The calm surface of the water hummed its soothing song.

He stretched and yawned. Taking his time, he stood and reached for his backpack and bag, which lay nearby. He looked up at the sky again. Unrecognizable shapes were disappearing into the dark clouds above the horizon. He set off along the path leading to the forest, about a dozen meters to the northeast. He walked slowly, dodging large logs of wood thrown up by the waves. As he walked, he pulled out a dried sausage. He bit off a piece and began chewing. He felt the fat, meat, and saliva meld into a paste that tasted so delicious. He smiled as he imagined it.

A wind blew from the lake, and the tips of his blond hair, peeking out from under his hood, swayed in the breeze.

A few dozen meters further, and he found himself... A forest. He always felt at home there. As a little boy, he often chose the path through thickets, and the growing cannonade of forest sounds struck the traveler. He heard the cries of birds, their conversations beyond human comprehension. High up, something flashed quickly in the leafy canopy. To his left, in a cluster of trees, he spotted a huge owl. "It must be sleeping," he thought. How surprised he was when the owl turned to face him. Her enormous, yellow, and distinctive eyes stood out against the black wall of vegetation. As he passed her, he saw her watching him closely, analyzing whether it might not be a good morsel.

The sky was barely visible through the obscuring branches and leaves. Only occasional black patches peeked through as the tree limbs moved in the wind. Their shadows occasionally fell across the path in the moonlight, drawing strange shapes. As the stranger advanced, the forest grew darker.

The traveler stopped several times, listening. Once, he sat on a small hill covered with moss and branches. He removed his hood, revealing his young face, and drank from his canteen. He closed his eyes and listened to the peace emanating from nature. He concentrated on the silence. He tried not to listen to the sounds of animals, but focused on the scent of the forest, the wet earth, and the rustling of the trees. It reminded him of his youthful years spent playing and walking in his hometown. He always felt good then. He took a deep breath of that healthy air and slowly exhaled it, opening his eyes. He sat there for a moment longer... sighed and stood up. He brushed off the leaves and continued on.

After passing through another wall of greenery, he emerged onto a well-packed road. On either side of it stood old oak trees, watching the travelers. They climbed upwards, reaching for the sky. The young man gazed at them in admiration, mentally counting their heights.

"Man will never be able to catch up with nature," he declared aloud, the wind echoing his words.

He continued along the road, which stretched almost straight the entire way, only bending in places, without any noticeable difficulty. The sun peeked out from behind the mountains, turning part of the sky pink. The darkness was fading away.

He stopped several times to remove stones from his boots, which made the journey easier. Each time he bent down, a strange pain spread in the back of his head. As if something were tearing. He ignored it, wincing slightly and massaging the sore spot.

After a few kilometers, the young man stopped at a fork in the road. He considered for a moment which way to choose. He decided to turn left. Just as he was about to head in that direction, he remembered an item. It had been a gift from Chanah, his younger sister.

"How many years has it been since we last saw each other, sister?" Too many.

He pulled out a blue disc with a sword on one side and a question mark on the other. He remembered what she'd said about the coin.

"If you want to confirm your choice, toss a coin and catch it. If you see a sword, your choice is correct. However, if you draw a question mark, it will be just the opposite."

"Now we'll see if it does any good. "

He tossed it up and caught it at one point. He looked at it.

"Question mark." He frowned.

"Ha, that's quite a number. Shouldn't I go in that direction just because the coin shows it to me? Superstitions. I shouldn't even try. A person determines their own fate. Besides, I don't believe in such superstitions. That's for old women and children, so they have something to talk about."

He smiled and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He headed left. The path he had chosen was different from the one he had taken so far. The uneven and muddy path only made walking more difficult, but this didn't bother the young man at all. He walked at a steady pace, avoiding larger patches of mud. The forest thinned out. It changed from a thicket into smaller clusters of various trees, until it reached a place where solitary willows grew opposite each other on either side.

It was getting lighter with each passing minute. Day was chasing night. But it was cold, and the world had taken on a bluish-gray hue. In the distance, a mist appeared, spreading like volcanic lava. It circled the ground, stretching its tentacles like a giant squid.

Not far from a large oak tree, surrounded by small gooseberry bushes, he spotted a small clearing. "I'll rest for a while," he decided. He walked over and was about to sit down when, by chance, he noticed a color that stood out from the surroundings, on the other side of the road. He was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. He considered himself a good observer. He thought for a moment and concluded that the bushes must have exposed it. He shrugged. He left his backpack by the boulder and approached the thicket of bushes.

Carefully brushing aside the branches, he almost scratched himself on the protruding thorns. He saw a small plant no more than four inches tall. He didn't know its name, but its scent was exquisite. He leaned down to examine it more closely. It was surrounded by patches of intensely green moss. It gave the impression that someone had tried to place it on something soft. It had a few small leaves, and at the very top was a flower with black and burgundy petals that occasionally retracted.

He watched, mesmerized. He wondered if cutting it down was even worth it. He surveyed the surrounding area. Everything was gloomy and unremarkable. The young man drew a small dagger from its sheath.

"Such beauty here is a sin."

He was about to cut it down when he suddenly hesitated, his vision clouding over. He stood numb for a moment when he heard a strange sound. He blinked. He looked around, but saw nothing. Leaves rustled, and branches creaked like doors on unoiled hinges. Fog crawled across the ground like a liquid creature, obscuring the path ahead.

The young man felt uneasy, and a shiver ran down his spine. He felt someone's gaze on his back. He looked around again. Nothing. Nothing. The wind howled like a damned soul. The clouds thickened. Rain began to fall. It grew dark. "What's happening?" He stepped onto the road, dagger in hand. He spun around. "Something's wrong." A chill ran through him again as, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a strange shape on one of the branches. "What's that?" As he approached to see what it was, a blue creature met his eyes. Touched by an inner "stop," he stopped.

"Strange. What is this..."

He didn't finish his thought as the figure evaporated in a swirl of white light. The fog began to dissipate, and two shapes loomed from among the wide willows growing around. He narrowed his eyes.

"Is something definitely wrong here?"

He was naturally curious, so he intended to approach them. Without waiting for prompting, the boy ran to see what had piqued his interest. As he approached, he spotted massive, ethereal towers. They seemed unnecessary, as if someone, or something, had just placed them there. As he approached them, he felt a tingling sensation and warmth spread throughout his body. He blinked and turned back in the direction he had come from. "Strange." He turned and stopped dead in his tracks. Before him was part of the entrance to some palace. "I think I'm hallucinating." He stared straight ahead. It was something on the edge of reality. It shimmered silver-white and pulsated with blue light. Five wide steps were flanked by two pedestals shaped like uncarved blocks. Beyond them stood two large, ethereal columns. He walked to the center of the path and looked up. They were at least five meters high and topped by two spheres of solid matter. He took a deep breath. He looked back once more and sheathed his dagger. He sighed. "We create our own lives." Intrigued, yet cautious, he moved toward the stairs. He had doubts about his decision, but curiosity got the better of him. He took his steps very carefully, slowly, as if afraid that something was about to happen. However, when he reached the top step, his fears were unfounded, that he would be struck by lightning, for example. He was somewhat surprised, because as soon as he reached the top step, his perception of reality changed. Towers flanked him. "So what now? Should I say some magic word?

" "No," he heard in response.

"What, who said that?

" "Me, boy

." He turned in the direction he suspected he'd heard the voice, but saw no one.

"Hey, if anyone's here, show yourself and don't play hide-and-seek," he shouted back.

"You can't see me because I'm not physically here

." "Yes?" And may I ask what the hell is going on here?

" "All in good time, Bereus Gramfeld.

" Bereus didn't hide his surprise that someone he couldn't see and was hearing for the first time knew his name.

"Okay, I'm out of here."

He began to descend when suddenly, a blue light began to pulse more intensely, and two lightning bolts shot down diagonally from the spheres atop the towers, forming the letter M. The sparkling energy momentarily blinded Bereus. He covered his eyes, the intensity of the light too intense. It lasted a few seconds, and when he decided he could look calmly, he heard a sound behind him, like crushing stone. From the point where the lightning bolts met, two smaller ones shot out, striking the stone masses behind him. He turned around, in disbelief. Before his eyes, two enormous shapes were forming. "These are golems," he heard in his head. "They are there to protect you, that's why they won't let you leave." He stood closer to the left. Alarmed, he stepped back, looking at the newly completed creatures. They had the shape and posture of humanoids, but of course, everything was different. After the long din, silence fell. Even the wind said nothing. The groans of the trees were gone. Sweat broke out on the young man's brow. A shiver ran down his body. His breathing quickened.

"You should have chosen the right side."

Retreating toward the towers and watching the golems, whose eyes had opened, pulsating with yellow light, he noticed an inscription on the stairs. He read it in his mind and was surprised to find out what it meant. Unconsciously, he spoke its meaning aloud.

"Serferti Vardfer – Lord of the Waterfall."

As the last letter left his lips, the young man felt a chill and pain in the back of his head. At that moment, his thoughts turned to a faded memory.

...He was ten years old and playing with a few friends at the fountain. It was his turn to carry water to the lower bowl so that the water could flow out the top. It was a favorite summer game for children. He ran to his father's inn to get a bucket. He fell inside. He bypassed Grane, one of the waitresses, and headed right, towards the kitchen. Enthralled by the fun, he didn't realize he was running straight into Haner, a local hunter, who was strolling by. At the last moment, he realized he was about to bump into him and cleverly avoided him, turning into a small alcove on the left. Proud of his agility, he began spinning around. At one point, he misplaced his foot and fell flat on the floor. Heart pounding, he got up, checking to see if anyone had seen his foolish fall. Happy that no one was around to comment, he headed for the kitchen. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. An elderly gentleman with a long white beard entered the inn. He sat down in one of the alcoves, out of sight. He also bumped into some local thugs. The boy recognized them as Gyd and his gang. Local boors, as his mother had called them.

He quickly ran to the kitchen and grabbed a bucket. On his way out, he rolled up a piece of dried sausage. He loved it. He slowly walked back the way he'd come in. Haner, sitting at the bar, noticed the boy and offered to help. However, the boy, not wanting to appear weak, declined.

"As you wish, Bereus," the hunter replied.

The boy continued on, carrying the bucket. He was already at the door when he heard raucous laughter from behind the alcove. He moved away from the door. He set the bucket down. He walked to the corner and peered out. Gyd's back appeared in his line of sight, speaking to the guy sitting opposite.

"Hey, grandpa, you're new here. Me and my friends have never seen you here before." The boy thought Gyd must have been hit by something at some point because he was talking so strangely.

The old man, without looking up, nodded.

"You're speechless, old man? Maybe you don't want to talk to me, eh? Someone sent us these mute guys." They sat around the old man and stared at him with those dull eyes that were filled with stupidity.

"Are you going to say something, Grandpa, or should we help you talk?" The boy was a little scared. He didn't want any fights here. He remembered the last brawl and didn't want his father to worry again.

"Is that how you greet newcomers in this town? By scaring them?" the man replied in a voice that sent shivers down his spine

. "And if so, what will you do, Grandpa? You... want to beat us up?" Gyd and the others started laughing.

The boy was even more terrified. They were in the alcove farthest from the bar. There was little light here. Only a small torch burned in the wall and a candle on the table. He couldn't see the stranger's face clearly because it was blocked by one of Gyd's friends. Suddenly, the torch's flame dimmed, and the candle went out. The boy saw the shadow of a hand trying to tug at the old man's sleeve. But before it reached its destination, Gyd interrupted.

"Who gave the go ahead? Give the old man a drink." The bruiser shifted and waited. He looked at his friends and laughed hoarsely. He raised his hand, and in that instant the torch went out completely, and the entire alcove was filled with darkness. The three bruisers stood up as quickly as they could. They heard the clatter of falling stools. Indistinct shapes moved away from the bench. They could see nothing. Suddenly, the boy and the others, in the enveloping darkness, noticed a pair of blue eyes. An icy emptiness filled the surroundings. Cold sparkled. They could feel the steam of rising frost.

For a moment, Bereus stood motionless, frozen in place. He blinked several times to erase the strange feeling that had gripped him for that brief moment, as if he had somehow found himself in a vast chamber. He felt his entire body lack the strength to continue standing. The world slowed. He couldn't move his legs or arms. As if through a fog, he saw Gyd and his companions standing in some stone cave filled with ice. No sounds reached him. He turned his gaze to the old man, who rested his chin on his hands and smiled. He sat at the bench, staring into those eyes of his. A moment of silence... Then the old man shouted something. An increasingly intense, hypnotizing shade of blue filled the space where they now stood. It began to press against the boy's mind. First his legs, then his torso and arms. Blood stopped circulating, displaced by the ice crystals. He tasted frost and cold in his mouth. A feeling of emptiness filled his mind. He felt himself drifting away from his body. He wanted to scream. He was about to give up when suddenly, something deep within his mind told him to calm down. The peace that spread throughout the young boy's body was a relief. Suddenly, he felt his blood flow returning. The numbing feeling of hopelessness and mental pain dissipated as quickly as it had come.

It lasted only a few seconds. But to him, it felt like hours. He didn't remember how he found himself back at the inn. He only knew that something had happened that had startled the old man. Beside him lay piles of crystals. When his friends did, he stumbled backward. The pain of returning blood flow coursed through his body. Strange thoughts flashed through his mind, and one of them was so strange he couldn't believe it. So irrational he couldn't understand it. He heard someone talking in a tired voice in his head.

"Who are you?" the old man asked.

"It doesn't matter who I am..." the deep voice replied.

The boy's eyes saw the old man open wide. His skin took on a pale hue for a moment.

"You can't exist. 'Heverta nastreu,'" the old mage exclaimed.

Bereus looked at the old man. The coldness that melted the warmest fire vanished, and the man himself vanished in a blue cloud.

He remembered standing there for a moment, unsure what to do. He felt lonely. The life he had led seemed so distant. He forgot about the friends who were waiting for him, and about his family. Also about Gyda and his companions. At that moment, he didn't care; only what had just happened mattered. After this encounter, he discovered a birthmark on his arm that appeared with age. Three circles, connected by lines. Each of them had the same shape and were arranged around a single square...

In the distance, a wolf howl echoed, carried on the wind. A light mist hung in the air. Reality was returning to the young man's mind. He lay on his stomach in a strange place. Through tearful eyes, he stared straight ahead. Everything was blurry.

"I thought I'd forgotten about this."

He groaned as he pushed himself up on his hands and spat. He dug his fingers into the ground and was surprised. He looked ahead. There were no more columns or golems. He stood up. He was on a mountain, or some kind of elevation, and before him stretched a large lake. In the distance, the sky raged with various shades of blue. Clouds gathered in unnatural numbers, overflowing and creating a churning sea of ​​steam. They were so low you could touch them. Suddenly, an incredible bolt of lightning pierced the sky, and its threads, spreading in hundreds of directions, exploded in a powerful lightning bolt. It was both beautiful and terrifying. Bereus covered his ears. His eyes began to water. He closed them. Everything hurt. He had never felt so tired. He wanted to lie down again, but he couldn't. He slowly opened his eyes. He stood where he had been a second ago. Disorientation would be a good description of his current state. He tried to explain it all rationally. Where he was and what was happening, but he couldn't. Nothing came to mind. Suddenly, his hair stood on end. He felt a gust of wind. He turned and saw something he never expected to see: clouds, the ethereal figure he had seen on a branch.

"I haven't met anyone like you in billions of years, boy. And I've lived long enough. I'm sure I would remember."

Bereus clutched his head. He wanted to calm his raging headache when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw the shimmering figure of a woman with a long braid.

"Better?" the figure asked.

Slowly, he realized the headache was fading and his vision was improving. He nodded, his eyes widening