Norman, Gwenn and Lloyd reached the northern outskirts of the city without any trouble. Columns of gray smoke rose on the horizon, where immense dark silhouettes circled above the wisps. An enchanting melody hung in the air, penetrating the vehicle's interior.

"What a strange music," exclaimed Gwenn, surprised by the sounds around her.

"They are the Death-Singers," replied Norman in a deep voice.

"Mutants?" guessed Gwenn.

"Birds. Gigantic ones. Black as shadow," explained Norman briefly.

"Their songs are beautiful, yet so full of sadness," murmured Gwenn.

"They herald death," added Norman, darkening the atmosphere.

Perplexed, Gwenn sought answers in Lloyd's gaze. He silently affirmed Norman's words. "They are scavengers," he explained. An acrid smell began to pervade around them.

"Ugh, what's this time!" grumbled Gwenn. "It smells like burning fat!"

"Lloyd, the taste..." remarked Norman.

Lloyd sadly nodded. "I know, kid, I know..."

"Lloyd..." insisted Norman, pointing at the smoke, his gaze filled with despair.

"Yeah... Well, okay, we'll go, but cautiously and quickly, understood?" decided Lloyd, looking at Norman and Gwenn in turn. The latter seemed overwhelmed. "What exactly is happening?" she innocently asked.

"There are pyres, immense pyres," informed Lloyd, his jaw clenched.

Norman's gaze was fixed on the gray trails. To their left, the wall gave way to the flowing Liseraz. After about ten minutes, the nauseating smell became so unbearable that they had to cover their faces. A macabre amalgamation of brownish mush and charred bodies littered the shore.

Gwenn averted her eyes, feeling almost on the verge of nausea. Norman, on the other hand, couldn't take his eyes off the scene, his face tensing as much as his fists. Lloyd, silent, observed the charnel without blinking.

In a fit of anger, Norman shouted, "Why!? Why did they do this!? They have Ether... Why incinerate them!? What a gruesome death!"

Lloyd didn't know what to say to calm him; he simply murmured, "To send a message, I suppose. It's a thing that's done."

"Yeah, you're well versed in these things," retorted Norman disdainfully. Then, spotting something in the sky, he exclaimed, "Stop the car!"

Without a word, Lloyd slammed the brakes. Norman rushed out of his seat, leaving the door wide open. Gwenn and Lloyd's perplexed faces watched him run towards the shore, waving his arms towards the sky like a fledgling taking flight. Norman called out to the clouds, "Plauré, Plauré... Plauré, it's me!"

In response to his calls, a shadow gracefully detached from the swarm of Death-Singers that swirled in a funereal flight. Its powerful wings beat the air with hypnotic elegance, guiding it towards an old tree.

Gwenn and Lloyd hurried to join Norman, who was already standing in front of the bird. When they reached his side, Norman, looking up, respectfully addressed the creature, "Greetings, Eoc Plauré. I'm sorry to disturb your sorrow in these circumstances, but I urgently need to know if the Erratics have escaped... I beg you to help me, wise one of tears! Guide me to them, I pray."

Eoc Plauré stood proudly on a bare branch, its plumage of impenetrable black vibrating with the dark energy of Ether. Its majestic silhouette combined the grace of a raven, the fierceness of a vulture, and the powerful aura of a raptor. Its piercing gaze, sparkling with silvery brilliance, testified to its sharp intelligence and profound wisdom.

All were captivated by the imposing presence of this strange creature, observing with fascination. Suddenly, a melodious sound, an enchanting symphony, escaped from Eoc Plauré's throat.

It was a song filled with sadness and regret, a funeral oration carrying the lamentations of the destruction caused by the GC troops. The ethereal notes blended, creating a tragic melody, like a requiem for the lost souls.

Although the words spoken by Eoc Plauré escaped Norman's understanding, each sound carried the grief emanating from this funereal lament. Each vibration resonated with its own despair in the face of the absurdity of their situation.

As the last notes rose in the air, Eoc Plauré slowly lowered its majestic wings, signaling the end of its mournful song. A respectful silence enveloped the surroundings.

The bird cast its tearful gaze on Norman, then gracefully flapped its wings to soar over the landscape, landing on the beach strewn with corpses.

Norman hurried to join it, covering his face to escape the dense smoke. Lloyd and Gwenn followed as best they could, dodging the flames of the pyres.

Up close, the heat made the air ripple with ashes. Some fires burned slowly, while others still released their flames. The animal sadly gazed at one of the latter. Norman approached, devastated. His trembling voice betrayed his distress, "Are they all here?"

The Death-Singer remained motionless, tears flowing on its dark plumage.

Overwhelmed by grief, Norman turned to Gwenn, who was rushing towards him. "Gwenn, we have to stop this... I need to check something."

The young girl stared at him, her gaze reflecting sadness and worry. "Norman, it's a huge pyre... After the bridge, I'm exhausted, I'm afraid of making a mistake."

"Don't say nonsense!" retorted Norman angrily. "You did it with the jar, you can do it again!" he insisted.

Gwenn hesitated, nervously twirling a strand of hair escaping from her hood. "Yes, but a jar is simple. What you're asking is much more complex, and if that thing comes back..."

"Please, Gwenn," pleaded Norman, his voice wavering with emotion. "I have to make sure it's not there!"

The young woman remained silent, seeking answers in Norman's tormented gaze, where darkness seemed to oscillate between determination and madness.

Norman's face tensed. "Fine, then I'll do it myself!" he declared with tension. He closed his eyes, letting out a voice full of bitterness. "What was it you said? Feel inside?"

"Norman, don't do this!" exclaimed Gwenn, "It's dangerous, you don't control your emotions right now!"

Gwenn's warnings fell into the darkness of Norman's despair as he repeated, determined, "Feel inside... the Ether. Feel the Ether deep within myself."

Norman felt lost, not really understanding what he was searching for deep within him. All he knew was that he had to act. Amidst the whirlwind of his thoughts, he focused on the Ether, letting this mysterious energy invade him.

Visions flashed rapidly in his mind: desolate landscapes, jet-black foliage, invisible rocks, fur and wood as dark as the night. These images carried away the torments haunting his mind. Among them, Gwenn's bridge memories took shape, merging with the currents of his tortured consciousness.

Statues, shadows, trees, the creature... A power emanated from these memories, both cold as the infinite of space and burning like the hottest sun, uncontrollable as a dying star: Ether. For the first time, he wasn't just experiencing it; he felt it deep within himself.

Then, unexpectedly, the incessant flow filling every corner of his body spread in all directions, turning his being into a fluid wave. A slight unease overcame him, but he remained focused, trying to control this threatening surge.

However, hidden in the shadow of his unconscious, indefinable emotions lurked, waiting for their moment. A recent memory resurfaced, so vivid that he could still feel its trace on his skin, the touch of the bubble of eternity.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Suddenly, he opened his eyes, panicked. His hand floated, incapable of the slightest movement. Around him, water and flames seemed frozen. He tried to free himself in vain. Behind him, a voice rose, "Now, Lloyd!" A violent blow to the back of his head plunged him into darkness.

*

Norman opened his eyes, disoriented. The warmth of the pebbles radiated behind him. He lay on the black shores of the Liseraz, his backpack serving as a makeshift pillow.

A movement to his right caught his attention. "Lloyd, he's awake!" exclaimed Gwenn. Her face appeared above him. "Honestly, you're lucky to have a friend like him; otherwise, I would have had a hard time getting us out of there," she reprimanded.

White flashes blurred his vision as Norman sat up. His hand instinctively touched the back of his aching head. His body oscillated between fever and chills. Confused, he stammered apologies, "I... sorry... I don't know what came over me... I didn't think..."

"Yeah, that's right, you didn't think," interrupted Gwenn in a detached tone. "Your gift is not to be taken lightly. You're a natural, but you can't imagine the consequences when overwhelmed."

"Yeah, I guess I'm starting to understand..." articulated Norman, suppressing a shiver.

"That's why you need to learn, and quickly," suggested Gwenn in a firm tone.

Norman fell silent, searching for something with his gaze. "There," Gwenn pointed, sighing.

He saw Lloyd absorbed in some kind of ice sculpture, carefully extracting charred bodies and placing them on the beach. Looking up, Lloyd announced, "A cryogenic bomb. Don't ask me why I had one; it's a long story. Anyway, it's more practical than magic."

Ignoring Lloyd, Norman cautiously approached the frosty pyre, captivated and repulsed by this morbid sight. The sculpture rose like a monolith in the desolate landscape. The flames had been instantly extinguished by the bomb's explosion, creating a striking contrast between heat and cold.

The charred remains were encased in a thick layer of ice, their twisted forms seeming to dance in their crystalline prison. Faces frozen with empty eye sockets observed their grim fate, silent witnesses to their cruel destiny.

Water beads clung to the mingled flesh and ice, like tears on frozen cheeks. The glaring light revealed mixed textures, where sparkling frost and dark ashes shone.

Turning his gaze away from this macabre vision, Norman inspected the charred bodies. Blurred features and distorted shapes denied any identification. Noticing marks on the burnt necks, he examined the others, perplexed.

Turning to Lloyd, he exclaimed, "It's strange; look at these marks on their necks, right where the..."

"The chips," Lloyd murmured, cursing his negligence. The incisions revealed nothing implanted.

"Why remove them? What are they trying to hide?" Norman pondered aloud.

"Who knows what those devices record..." lamented Lloyd. A mechanical sound disturbed their grim task. "We need to leave - we have company!" he grumbled, grabbing Norman and calling Gwenn.

Lloyd led them to shelter behind an old shed where their vehicle was hidden. He jumped into the driver's seat, followed closely by Norman and Gwenn. The engine didn't have time to rev before an imposing armored van, mounted on tracks, emerged on the shore.

"Damn it!" swore Lloyd. "Nobody moves," he ordered firmly. "We stay quiet; I'll get us out of this," he assured with confidence.

They waited in tense silence. Voices emerged. "Alright, alright..." whispered Lloyd. However, the discreet clack of Norman's door shook his resolve. "Damn it," he growled. "You, stay here," he ordered Gwenn.

Quietly, Lloyd joined Norman behind the shed, observing the intruders disembark. Once beside him, he grabbed Norman by the shoulder and, whispering in his ear, grumbled, "What's gotten into you, idiot?"

"Shut up," Norman cut him off, his tone firm and authoritative. "Listen."

Anger rumbled in Lloyd, annoyed at being reprimanded. Despite this, he controlled his reaction to avoid trouble.

On the bank, voices increased in intensity. "Oh, damn!" cursed a man with approximate English tinged with Asian accents, "You promised they'd all be dead!"

"Doesn't matter if he's still breathing; throw him with the others; he'll burn without making a fuss," assured the other with an African English accent.

"Damn, what are you talking about, fool? The chip has to be removed! If it's still active, it'll spill everything. Take care of it now; I'm going to piss!" said the first as he walked away.

Hesitating, the other drew a long blade from his wrist. As he raised his arm to strike their victim, Norman had the impulse to rush forward. But Lloyd tackled him with all his might.

"No more nonsense," he hissed. "Norman, I need to know if Erratics have escaped!" shouted Norman. His outburst surprised the mercenary, who approached.

"Damn it!" spat Lloyd. He released Norman and slid his rifle. Pressed against the angle, he glanced at the beach.

The GC agents had regrouped and were advancing on either side of the shed. Lloyd knew he had little chance of eliminating them. "Go get the car; I'll hold them off," he ordered before shooting.

His shots hit a mercenary who laughed. "Stranger, you use lasers... what nonsense," he mocked. "Look at a real weapon!" he said, activating his own.

Lloyd had only time to throw himself to the ground. The shed imploded. Hit by debris, he stood up and ran in the opposite direction.

Engine sounds echoed. The off-road vehicle appeared in front of Lloyd as the van collided with the shed debris. New mercenaries aimed at them from the windows.

Suddenly, a strange whistling filled the air from the beach. The cry rose and found an echo in a black silhouette swooping down onto the battlefield.

A more enchanting melody filled the atmosphere. As the howling subsided, Lloyd reached the car. "Cover your ears!" shouted Norman.

Lloyd made his way inside as the tumult ceased. The van came to a halt, and its occupants descended to the ground, dropping their weapons. Then, all walked, as if hypnotized.

Step by step, the small group followed the Death-Singer to the tumultuous waters where it dove. Shortly after, the four mercenaries disappeared in turn. Moments later, a pair of scavengers lifted their lifeless bodies between their talons.

Meanwhile, the giant bird had landed next to the one who had called it. Norman drove the vehicle to meet them.

Seeing the approaching group, the old man straightened up despite his lamentable condition. Beneath the bruises staining his tanned face, his eyes gleamed with evident determination.

Slowly, he raised his hand towards the Death-Singer, inviting it to come closer. A hoarse whistling emanated from his swollen lips. The bird responded, and soon, an animated exchange took place between them.

After five minutes of chattering, Lloyd put an end to the conversation. "We express our gratitude for saving us," he declared with respect. "However, we have questions and little time to ask them."

The man dismissed the bird with a brief whistle. He turned to Lloyd, touching his lip. Gwenn delicately offered him water, which he drank slowly. "Shkran, young girl," he thanked.

"Can you speak?" Lloyd asked. "For now..." sighed the man. "That's what worries me. But we can only offer our ears and voices."

The man smiled. "And what a charming voice. What is your name, Gallician?"

"Lloyd," he replied. "I am Yousef. Unusual companions for a Gallician," he remarked, observing Gwenn and Norman in turn.

"He's not my companion; he's my servant, and she's a hostage," Lloyd replied.

"She seems quite free for a hostage," noted Yousef. "Jou comse fron Esthiade?!" he asked, turning to Gwenn.

Gwenn, surprised, responded, "Jas! Mator mene, jou sprek et?!"

"Nust an bik," clarified the old man, "Vat jour name, junglau?"

Gwenn made a small moue, almost apologizing for not introducing herself earlier, and finally introduced herself, "Haik, Yousef, ik ben Gwenn."

"Salam Gwenn, ziey nokt jou wert?" the old man worried.

"Nan, ik'm sake, da ne zorra," reassured Gwenn.

"Guut, guut," smiled the old man.

"Hey, you two, no secrets!" intervened Lloyd.

"Do not worry, Gallician. If I truly wanted to hide things from you, you could do nothing about it," teased the old man. "But, I'm afraid my Esthian is a bit rusty, sorry, young Gwenn."

"It's not a problem, anyway; it's up to him to speak; he came back for you," assured Gwenn, nudging Norman.

"Salam Yousef, I am..." attempted Norman.

"I know who you are. Professor Archer told me about you, Norman. He said you were linked to the Ether, to our intertwined destinies."

Yousef's expression grew more serious. After a moment of silence, Norman gathered the courage to speak. "I thought Professor Archer was dead... That's at least what I've always heard."

Yousef looked at Norman, his old and wise eyes expressing a profound understanding of his pain and confusion. He took a short breath before responding in a soothing voice, filled with perceptible empathy.

"The mysteries of time and truth are sometimes veiled, Norman. The paths we take, the decisions we make, all create a complex fabric that can remain hidden, even from our most scrutinizing eyes. Your heart is not alone in this belief, but let me offer you a perspective."

He paused. "Professor Archer is a man of caution and foresight. Shadows of danger can lead to difficult choices, to actions that may seem strange or uncertain. Sometimes, to protect what is precious, one must retreat into the darkness, even if it means the world believes you're gone."

Norman was stunned. "But why has he never contacted me? How... How did he know I would be here?"

Yousef raised a parchment-like hand to quell the questions buzzing in Norman's mind. "The Ether is a mystical link that connects everything in this world and beyond. Only a few chosen ones have been able to sense its presence and understand its contours."

Lloyd, intrigued, interjected. "You speak of it as if you know him... What exactly is the Ether?"

Yousef looked up at the sky, seeking the right words. "The Ether is the primordial energy that governs life and reality. It is the invisible thread that ties all things, from the smallest particles to the distant stars. Some are more sensitive to its fluctuations and can harness it. Professor Archer observed these individuals, knowing that Norman was one of them."

Lloyd frowned. "And Professor Archer? What happened to him?"

Yousef closed his eyes, recalling painful memories. "The professor disappeared during the attack. But before that, he transmitted a mental message to me, warning of Norman's arrival. He said Norman would be a guide and hope against the Global Cortex."

Lloyd tilted his head. "But if the professor doesn't directly control the Ether, how could he have warned you?"

Yousef smiled gently. "Thanks to my own connection with the Ether. I can't manipulate it like others, but I can feel it. I developed a connection with the creatures of the Zone, who warned me. The professor used that channel."

Norman bit his lip, pensive. "The attack on Faunaralis, the pyres, the Erratics... So many things that can't be random. It seems the Global Cortex is hiding much darker motives."

Yousef sighed, the shadow of grief clouding his eyes. "The Global Cortex seeks only power over the Ether. Their exact goal still eludes me, but they were looking for something - they interrogated me about you, Norman, after my capture."