Arturo headed towards the nursing home where, upon arrival, he was greeted with a warm smile by the same receptionist.
He headed straight to Ana's room, who greeted him immediately noticing the change in his demeanor.
"Good morning, Arturo. I see you're in a very good mood today," she said, with a sly look.
"Good afternoon. Yes, the truth is that I feel determined," he replied, with a confident smile. "I'm ready for another visualization session. I'm sure I'll do well."
Arturo sat next to the old woman, closing his eyes and preparing for the session. This time, he was more relaxed and confident. Soler's words gently guided him as he immersed himself in the world of Encantia once again.
"Imagine yourself breathing the air of Enchantia, Arturo. Inhale... exhale... Now, tell me, what is the environment you're in like? What do you see around you?" The first sound that greeted him was the murmur of a crowd. Intermingled voices, laughter, and a vibrant murmur of celebration filled the air. When he opened his eyes, he found himself standing on a vast esplanade that led to the Luminous Castle, a colossus of glittering towers that seemed to have been carved straight from the twilight. Its white stone was adorned with both gold and silver.
The sky, split between perpetual light and gloom, marked the boundary between the two worlds. Arturo paused for a moment, admiring the contrast that defined Enchantia.
Ahead of him, a procession of ornate carriages moved slowly toward the castle gates. The occupants were the elites of Solaris and Nocturnia, wearing extravagant costumes, golden robes that reflected the glow of the sun, and black cloaks trimmed with silver that seemed plucked straight from the shadows. A carpet of cloth embroidered with threads of light and shadow stretched from the castle steps to the cheering crowd as prominent figures descended from their carriages.
"Where are you now?" Anne asked from the gloom, her voice echoing far away in Arthur's mind.
"On the esplanade of the Luminous Castle, during the Separation Celebration," Arthur replied, not taking his eyes off the spectacle.
Ana said nothing more, letting him immerse himself completely in the experience.
Pennants fluttered overhead, representing the colors of both realms: the scorching gold of Solaris and the dark, silvery blue of Nocturnia. An orchestra played on a stage at the side of the esplanade, its instruments creating a melody that oscillated between bright and melancholic, as if trying to unite the two worlds through music.
Arturo began to move through the crowd. The outfits of the people around him were ostentatious, and the dialogue was empty, focused on the riches and opulence of their respective kingdoms.
"This is a celebration, but not of unity," Arthur murmured, more to himself than to Anna. "It is a showcase of what separates them."
As he moved forward, he noticed that on the edges of the esplanade were grouped the less fortunate, those who could not afford to enter the castle but had still gathered to watch. Their clothes were simple, devoid of the ornaments that defined the wealthy. Some looked like they were from Solaris, with faded robes that were once gold, while others wore dark cloaks worn by continuous use in the cold of Nocturnia. Their looks were not of joy, but of resignation, as if they were there because there was nowhere else to go. "The Separatist Kings have made sure that all eyes are on them, but the real Enchantia is here, on the sidelines," he said, clenching his fists.
A blare of trumpets echoed through the air, and the crowd turned toward the castle's main entrance. The giant doors of obsidian and gold slowly opened, revealing the Separatist Kings. Both stood on a raised balcony, from where they could look out over the crowd and be looked at by them.
The king of Solaris, tall and regal in bearing, wore golden armor that reflected light with every movement. His crown was a glowing ring of sunbeams, and his face was marked by a severity that brooked no argument. Beside him, the queen of Nocturnia, wrapped in a black cloak decorated with silver stars, looked like a shadow moving gracefully. Her expression was as cold as her kingdom, but her eyes shone with an intensity that suggested she could see beyond the darkness.
The crowd cheered and clapped, their voices creating a cacophony that echoed off the castle walls.
"Ladies and gentlemen of Enchantia," the king of Solaris said, his voice echoing thanks to an amplifying spell, "today we celebrate our greatness, our individuality, and the strength we have found in embracing our differences."
The queen of Nocturnia spoke up, her tone low and melodic.
"Today, we reaffirm that light and shadow are not meant to mingle, but to coexist in eternal balance. Each in their place, each with their purpose."
Arturo felt a pang of indignation.
Balance? There was no balance in division, only isolation and suffering.
Ana suddenly spoke, her voice a whisper in his mind.
"What will you do, Arturo?"
He closed his eyes, letting the noise of the crowd and the empty words of the kings fade away for a moment.
"I will show them they are wrong," he said finally. "I will show them that light and shadow can not only coexist, but can unite. That Lyra can rise again."
When he opened his eyes again, the scenery had changed. In front of him, the Twilights, hidden in the crowd, were beginning to stir. Their gazes met Arthur's, and he knew they were waiting for something too. Something only he could unleash.
Arturo continued to move through the crowd, his heart pounding as he approached the balcony where the Separatist Kings spoke.
The words of the king of Solaris were a proclamation of supremacy, embellished with rhetoric that hid the cracks in his kingdom under a veneer of pride. The Queen of Nocturnia, for her part, spoke with a calculated coldness, her words exuding a serenity that Arthur knew was only a mask.
But it wasn't them who caught his attention. No, his gaze drifted to a figure standing to one side of the balcony, in a more discreet but no less prominent place.
The crown princess, a living symbol of the union between the kingdoms.
Arturo paused, feeling a lump form in his throat. There was something about her, the way she tilted her head as she listened to the kings, the way her hair fluttered in the breeze, that was painfully familiar.
He moved closer, his steps unsteady, as if an invisible force was pushing and stopping him at the same time. When he was finally close enough to see her clearly, his world stopped.
It was Maria.
His sister.
Arturo felt everything around him fade away. The crowd, the cheers, even the glow of the Luminous Castle, blurred to a distant echo. He could only see her, standing on the balcony, alive and radiant.
But there was something different about her face, something distant, as if the memories they shared had been erased.
"Maria..." he murmured, barely able to say her name.
His chest began to tighten. The scene before him was impossible, and yet, it was there. How could it be her? How could she be alive? Fragments of memories of his sister swirled in his mind: her laughter, her hair fluttering in the sun, her dreams of being a brave princess.
The opulence of the pink dress, the crown adorning her head, couldn't be real. They couldn't belong to the Maria he knew.
Suddenly, he felt like he was short of breath. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might break. A fog began to envelop his vision, and his legs trembled.
"No... it can't be..." he whispered, bringing a hand to his chest.
Ana's voice came to him like a distant whisper, trying to cut through the panic that consumed him.
"Arturo... breathe. Come back to me."
But Arturo couldn't. Anxiety gripped him with relentless claws, and all he could do was look at Anna, who didn't seem to see him, or recognize him, or even notice his presence.
"Arturo!" Ana's voice grew louder, more urgent.
The visualization crumbled. The castle balcony disappeared, along with the crowd and the kings. Arturo's eyes snapped open, gasping, as if he'd been underwater for too long.
He was back in Ana's small room, the dim light of the morning sun illuminating the room. The air was heavy and dense, and the heat of his own skin made him feel trapped.
Ana watched him worriedly from her chair.
"What happened?" she asked, her tone firm but not demanding. She knew something had struck a deep chord in Arturo, something he couldn't ignore.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
Arturo couldn't answer right away. His breathing was erratic, and his hands shook as he pressed them against his knees.
"I saw her..." he finally managed, his voice barely a murmur.
Ana leaned forward, frowning.
"Who did you see?"
Arturo looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and anguish.
"My sister. Maria. She was there, on the balcony, as if she'd never died".
The silence that followed was thick, broken only by the sound of the clock on the wall. Ana let out a sigh and stood up, walking around the table to sit across from Arturo.
"Visualization is powerful, Arturo," she said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It can bring things out from the depths of our minds, things we may not even have known we had inside."
"But it wasn't a memory..." Arturo shook his head, his words coming out in a rush. "It was her. She was alive, there, with them."
Ana watched him silently, her eyes filled with understanding.
"Maybe Maria has a bigger role in this story than you think."
Arturo clenched his fists, trying to regain his composure. But the images of Maria, dressed as the crown princess, were still etched in his mind.
"If that's so..." he finally murmured, looking at Ana with an intensity he hadn't shown before, "then I need to know why."
Ana nodded slowly, giving him time to process what he had just experienced.
"We will know, Arturo. But for now, rest. The answers will come when you are ready to receive them."
Arturo left the nursing home at a hurried pace, his labored breaths mixing with the cold evening air. Crying had swept over him so suddenly that he didn't even notice when his tears began to wet his face. The necklace Eva had given him was hanging around his neck, weighing more than he could have ever imagined. He still couldn't understand what had just happened, what he had seen, what he had felt in the visualization.
The weight of his own pain was choking his chest, and despite the quiet streets of Magallon, everything around him seemed like chaos. The houses, the shops, the people passing by... everything seemed alien to him, as if it didn't belong here. It was as if the world he knew was falling apart, and in its place, the ruins of Lyra and the figure of Maria continued to haunt him, like ghosts that refused to go away.
He ran aimlessly, his legs moving faster than his mind, as if the simple act of running away would free him from what he had just experienced. It felt as if the visualization had trapped his soul and thrown it into a world he couldn't escape. The familiar, quiet streets of Magallon became a labyrinth, as if he himself was trapped in the heart of Enchantia.
He didn't know how much time had passed. Heavy breathing burned his throat, and the chill of the evening seeped into his bones. The city faded behind him, and the only thing that mattered now was getting to a place where he could hide, where he could stop feeling.
Finally, he arrived at Jacinto's house, where his mind and body seemed to go into automatic mode. The gate was open, and Arturo, without thinking, walked into the garden.
Eva and Jacinto were in the living room, reading a book and watching television respectively, when they saw him enter. Noticing his red eyes and dejected expression, Eva immediately stopped what she was doing and stood up.
"Arturo, what happened?" she asked worriedly, approaching him.
Arturo didn't answer. He walked past them without looking at them and up the stairs two at a time, wanting only the shelter of a room.
Eva followed him, insistent. "Arturo, talk to me. Are you okay?"
But he continued without stopping, the echo of his footsteps resonating in the house. He opened the door to his room and closed it behind him, blocking out the outside world.
Eva and Jacinto stood outside, hands outstretched toward the door.
Inside the room, Arturo dropped onto the bed. The crying that had once disappeared came back with force, shaking his body with silent sobs. He curled up on the sheets, hugging the pillow as if it could somehow fill the emptiness he felt.
Tiredness and emotion finally overcame him. His tears continued to fall, but his eyelids grew heavy. Slowly, exhaustion plunged him into a restless sleep.
They both stood outside the door a moment longer.
They wanted to help him, they wanted to tell him that he wasn't alone, but Jacinto understood that at that moment he needed his space. With a sigh, Eva moved away from the door and they went down the stairs, deciding to wait until he was ready to talk.
Arturo wanted to sleep because it was the only time where he didn't think about anything, where everything was possible and where he could see his sister safe and sound.
In his dreams, the weight of reality faded away.
There were no expectations to meet or failures to regret. The walls of the room, so suffocating during the day, dissolved into an infinite space where freedom was his only guide. In that dreamlike state, Arturo was not a failed brother or a blocked writer; he was simply a human being seeking comfort in the most hidden corners of his mind.
Maria was safe.
He saw her with the clarity of the most vivid memories: her hair blowing in the wind, her crystalline laughter echoing like a familiar melody, and her eyes, always full of energy and love.
In those moments, Arturo not only saw her, he felt her. In his dreams, they could walk together through endless meadows, or sit under the tree where they used to share secrets as children. He could tell her about his fears and his failures, and she always responded with words of encouragement, giving him back a peace that was denied him in the waking world. In that state, Arturo could be the brother he always wanted to be and the writer his sister admired.
He dreamed of a world where his work was complete, and Maria read each page with pride and admiration. He dreamed of reconciliation, of a life where pain was replaced by gratitude for having known and loved her.
Suddenly, something disturbed his peace. A distant sound, as if someone was calling him.
"Arturo... Arturo..."
The voice grew louder, pulling him out of sleep.
With one last glance at Maria's smile, Arturo felt the flowery field begin to fade, dragging him back into consciousness. He opened his eyes with a start, expecting to see the room where he had been staying, but what he found was completely different.
He saw a small group of people leaning over him, unfamiliar faces illuminated by the light of a nearby bonfire. One of them, a woman with dark hair and eyes like embers, gave him an intense look as she spoke quietly to the others.
"He's awake," she said, with a mixture of relief and caution. "I told you it was him."
Arturo sat up slowly, his senses still clouded. He looked around, trying to understand where he was. Tall trees rose up like columns that seemed to have no end, and the sound of a nearby stream filled the air with its constant murmur.
It was the Enchanted Forest.
"What is going on?" he asked, his voice raspy and full of confusion. "Who are you?"
"We are your allies, if you decide we can be," the woman said, her tone firm but not aggressive. "You carry with you what we have sought for generations. The key to Lyra."
Arturo looked down at his chest and saw the necklace hanging around his neck.
"This... this is just a gift. It means nothing," Arturo said, fingering the key nervously.
"Nothing?" one of the men replied, his voice rough as the dry leaves of the forest. "That key is the hope of Enchantia. It opens the doors of Lyra, the heart of the Twilights. And now you carry it."
"I am not who you think I am," he said, looking at the group with fear and frustration. "I'm not a leader. I barely understand this world. I'm just... I'm just a writer".
The ember-eyed woman stepped forward, her gaze unrelenting.
"You write stories, right? And what are leaders but those who narrate the future? If you have the key, it's for a reason. Lyra needs us, and we need someone who believes in the impossible."
Arturo stood up slowly, staggering a little. His eyes scanned the expectant faces around him. Despite the distrust he felt, he couldn't ignore the spark of hope he saw in each of them. The key weighed heavily on his neck, but more than that, there was the responsibility that seemed to come with it.
"What do they expect of me?" he finally asked.
A man with skin tanned by the cold, who until then had remained silent, answered:
"We expect you to take us to Lyra. To open the gates. To be the leader we need."
The rumor spread like wildfire in a dry field. From the depths of Nocturnia, where the sorcerers whispered their dark incantations, to the shining peaks of Solaris, where the emissaries of the sun debated in elevated tones, the news was the same: the key to Lyra had been found.
The key, long relegated to legends and tavern songs, was now a tangible reality. And the most disturbing thing for the Separatist Kings was not only that it existed, but that it was in the hands of an unknown man, a stranger who had been proclaimed leader of the Twilights, the dreamers who longed for the reunification of Solaris and Nocturnia.
At the Luminous Castle, a place of icy neutrality where the Separatist Kings met annually to celebrate the Feast of Separation, the news came with the dawn.
A night messenger burst into the council chamber, his robes torn in haste and his words laden with urgency.
Lyra's key had been found.
The king of Solaris, swathed in robes that shone as if the sun itself was woven into their threads, paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. Each step resonated like the echo of impending judgment.
The queen of Nocturnia, sitting on her onyx throne, watched him coldly. She was a woman of few words, but her presence was commanding. Beneath her night-black cloak, she seemed motionless, as if the shadows themselves surrounded her, absorbing any light that dared to approach.
They both knew what that rumor meant. Lyra, the lost city in the Terminator, had been for decades an impossible ideal, a dream buried by the reality of division. If the key had really been found, that dream could resurface, and with it, the threat that their kingdoms would no longer be needed.
But there was an even bigger problem. It was the week of the Separation Celebration, the most important holiday for both kingdoms, an opportunity to reaffirm the independence of Solaris and Nocturnia. The agenda was full of commitments: speeches, banquets, parades and ceremonies. Cancelling any event would be interpreted as a sign of weakness.
The only solution was to delegate.
The kings turned to the same figure at the same time: the crown princess, who stood by a window, her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her bearing was impeccable, her expression, inscrutable. Since childhood she had been prepared for these moments, trained to be the voice of the crown when her parents could not raise it.
The princess immediately understood what was expected of her. Although her heart was pounding under the weight of that responsibility, she did not show it. It was her duty, and duties did not admit of doubt.
A meeting would be arranged. Arthur, the supposed bearer of Lyra's key, would be summoned to discuss the future of Enchantia. But the princess knew that this was not a simple diplomatic meeting. It was a test, both for Arthur and for herself. If she managed to divert his cause, if she managed to make the Twilights doubt him, the kings would have gained time to strengthen their defenses and crush any attempt at rebellion.
However, if Arturo proved to be more than just a circumstantial leader, if he truly believed in his cause... then the princess would have to make decisions that would change the course of her life.
With her gaze still fixed on the horizon, the princess felt the tension in the room grow with every second. The kings had already decided. The orders were clear. It was her time to prove that she was ready to shoulder the future of Solaris and Nocturnia.
The world of Enchantia was changing, and the princess knew it better than anyone.
"News from the Luminous Castle," a Twilight said, handing him the message. "The crown princess wishes to meet with you. Formally."
Arturo, his hands still stained with soot, unfolded the scroll. The words were written in firm, elegant calligraphy:
"To the bearer of the key of Lyra:
For the welfare of Enchantia, I request a formal meeting to discuss the fate of our land. Division is our present, but the future can still be negotiated.
Your Highness, Crown Princess of Solaris and Nocturnia."
Arturo's heart began to pound. He didn't need to see the signature to know who it was.
Maria.
He stood up abruptly, ignoring the gaze of the Twilights surrounding him. "I will go," he said, with a firmness that brooked no argument. "I must speak to her."
Liora stepped in, her face full of concern.
"You cannot. This has all the hallmarks of a trap. If you go, the kings will capture you, execute you, and use the key for their own purposes."
"I have to see her," Arthur replied, gripping the parchment so tightly his knuckles turned white. "If there's even a chance I can convince her, I have to try."
Ghalen let out a snort and threw a branch into the fire.
"Convince her of what? Of betraying her own parents? She's a princess of the Separatist crown. She's not going to join us, Arthur. This will only serve to weaken us."
Arturo looked up, meeting the eyes of the Twilights who watched him with a mix of disbelief and disappointment.
"They don't understand," he said in a tense voice. "It's not just the princess. It's Maria."