The next ten years became a long and arduous journey for Roland. With the firm conviction that there was a way to break the curse, he began his research, traveling every corner of the kingdom in search of answers. The great libraries and abbeys, places where knowledge was guarded jealously, were his first destinations. However, he soon discovered that the information he sought was more difficult to obtain than he had anticipated.
Ancient documents about trolls and the curse were scarce, and those that still existed were filled with gaps, burned, or deliberately erased. Sometimes, the clues he found led him to dead ends, places where the truth had been lost to time or to the fear of the people.
"Why does no one want to talk about the curse?", murmured Roland, frustrated after another fruitless investigation at an abbey.
"Because the wounds it left are still open," replied an old monk with whom he had shared a cup of wine. "People fear trolls. And fear, young Roland, is not an ally of truth."
Despite the difficulties, Roland persisted. Sometimes, his research took him to darker places: taverns filled with smugglers, dangerous neighborhoods where legends about trolls were distorted and mixed with superstition. It was in one of those taverns, during a rainy night, that he encountered a drunken old man who seemed to know more than he let on.
"Listen to me, boy," said the old man, his tongue loosened by alcohol. "It's not just the trolls you have to watch out for. There are humans... who don't want the truth to come to light."
"What do you mean?" asked Roland, leaning closer, intrigued by the conspiratorial tone in the man's voice.
"Shhh," whispered the old man, glancing around before speaking more clearly. "There are forces, ancient forces, that would do anything to keep the world as it is... Beware of the symbol, young one. You will see it. And when you do... you will know that you are too close."
Intrigued by the old man's revelations, Roland decided to meet him the next day at his inn, hoping to unravel more secrets about the dark truth he had begun to uncover. However, upon opening the door to that room, horror paralyzed him. There, the old man lay crucified to the wall, his lifeless body hanging with a macabre serenity. On his chest, a strange mark was drawn with his own blood, a disconcerting figure that seemed to radiate a diabolical intensity in the dim light of the room.
The image sent shivers deep into his being. Roland tried to regain his composure, battling against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm his stomach. He looked around cautiously, searching for any sign that the danger that had taken the old man's life might still be lurking. The atmosphere was thick with palpable tension, as if the very air feared to utter a sound.
He focused his attention on the figure painted with the old man's blood. It was a symbol he had never seen before, yet somehow it resonated in his mind like a dark echo. Unease washed over him, for it was clear that his investigation had touched sensitive chords, and someone, or something, was determined to silence him.
Not wanting to tempt fate any further, he decided to leave the room. He still did not know the dark hand that seemed to be lurking behind him. He needed more information. With one last glance at the macabre scene, he quickly left the inn, his mind filled with questions and his spirit resolute to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.
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As time passed, Roland began to notice the symbol in other places. It appeared in ancient documents, engraved on the walls of inhospitable locations that his research led him to. He soon concluded that it was part of an organization, something larger than he had initially imagined.
The atmosphere grew heavier as Roland walked through the city streets. That unsettling feeling had become his shadow, an invisible presence that followed him with every step. It was as if unseen eyes scrutinized him, watching every movement, every whisper that escaped his lips. Even when the streets seemed deserted, there was a weight in the air that made him feel vulnerable, as if every corner could hide an imminent danger.
Roland paused for a moment, leaning against the cold stone of a building. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind of paranoia. But the sensation persisted, a dark warning that kept him on edge. He knew that his investigation had touched sensitive chords, and now it seemed that unknown forces wished to keep the truth hidden at any cost.
With renewed determination, Roland forced himself to move forward. He would not let the shadow of fear stop him. The truth was out there, and he was determined to unearth it, no matter the price.
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As Roland investigated the physical world, Brynja, on her part, embarked on her own journey. Following the teachings of the old man Zugmar, she began to explore the spiritual realm. The trolls, in closer communion with nature, had a unique connection to that ethereal world where the secrets of antiquity were hidden.
Zugmar, with his voice trembling from age, warned her of the dangers. "The spiritual world is vast and unknown, Brynja. Accessing it is not complicated, but remaining there too long... could cost you your soul. If you get lost, if you yield to its temptations, you could be trapped forever, leaving your body here, empty."
Despite the risk, Brynja knew this was the only path to the truth. Like Roland, she was willing to face any challenge to break the chains of the curse.
In her early travels to the spiritual world, Brynja encountered the souls of her ancestors. Distances were not traversed by walking, but by the force of will. "You must have firm conviction," Zugmar repeated to her. "Only spirits that know what they seek can move in that world without getting lost."
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The spiritual world, although initially imperceptible, revealed itself as a vast labyrinth of symmetry with respect to the physical world. In this ethereal plane, time lacked the linearity that mortals knew. Past eras intertwined and overlapped, creating a complexity that defied logic. It was a place where the echoes of history resonated, where each temporal thread told a story, a tale of times that had been but still vibrated in the essence of the spiritual world.
Upon entering this realm, one could observe how the threads of time extended in all directions. The threads closest to the present were of a dark and intense color, shining with a palpable energy, as if they were still alive with the emotions of the events that had woven them. However, as one moved backward, the threads became weaker, more ethereal, their colors fading into subtle tones that were difficult to detect. It was a reminder that time, although eternal in its flow, was also ephemeral in its manifestation.
Each thread had its own life cycle: a beginning, a development, and an end. Some threads, those representing everyday events, faded quickly, like mere whispers that left barely a trace. But there were others, threads that intertwined with critical events, which could endure for centuries, millennia, resonating with the force of decisions made and tragedies lived. These threads were like deep roots clinging to the ground of time, refusing to be forgotten.
The intensity of events influenced the life of these threads. Moments of great passion, pain, or conflict left indelible marks, capturing the essence of those who had lived and fought. As Brynja explored this world, she could feel the emotional weight emanating from the threads. Sometimes, when she touched one of those vibrant threads, it was as if the memories of her ancestors flowed through her, narrating stories of love, betrayal, and hope that had become trapped in the fabric of time.
However, the spiritual world was not just a refuge of memories; it was also a place of hidden dangers. Those who ventured too far could lose themselves in the tangled web of threads, trapped in a time that did not belong to them. Shadows lurked among the threads, reminding Brynja that, although she sought the truth, she must proceed with caution. The journey through the spiritual realm was a path filled with wonders and dangers, where each discovery could bring her closer to the truth, but also put her own essence at risk.
Gradually, and with much training, Brynja began to unravel small fragments of the trolls' history before the curse. Each journey brought her a little closer to the truth, but it also brought with it a growing danger. With each incursion, she felt a dark presence watching her, lurking in the shadows of the spiritual world.
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It was after several years of hard training and exploration in the spiritual world that Brynja finally began to master the complex navigation of that ethereal plane. With each journey, her connection to the temporal threads grew stronger, and her ability to unravel the hidden stories of her ancestors sharpened. However, during one of her incursions, she encountered something unexpected that would change her perception of the spiritual world forever.
Hidden among the mist of time, she found a thread that shone with overwhelming intensity. It was a deeper and more vibrant color than any other she had seen before, even more than the threads connected to the present reality. Intrigued, Brynja realized that this thread might be related to a significant event that had occurred a thousand years ago. She had not detected it before, as it was veiled by a thick fog that made it practically invisible to untrained eyes.
Cautiously, Brynja began to investigate that thread. Curiosity guided her as she sought answers in the memories of her ancestors. She focused and started to converse with the spirit of an ancestor who seemed deeply connected to that thread. He was a wise troll, one who had lived in times before the curse that had marked her people. His presence was comforting, and Brynja felt that by unraveling this thread, she could gain valuable information about the origin of the curse and perhaps a way to break it.
However, as the conversation flowed, a sudden and disturbing change occurred. The ancestor, whose face reflected wisdom and patience, suddenly froze, his expression shifting from calm to horror. Brynja felt that something was wrong, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was. "No! It's coming for us!" the spirit screamed in a burst of terror. His words echoed in Brynja's mind like a heart-wrenching cry before the ancestor vanished in a flash of pure panic, leaving her alone in the vastness of the spiritual world.
Brynja felt a cold, invisible hand wrap around her soul, a chilling touch that made her shudder. It was as if a dark presence were breathing down her neck, lurking in the shadows of time. With a desperate gasp, she was forced to return to the real world, an act that required all her willpower. The transition was abrupt, and as she opened her eyes, she found herself in her room, her body trembling and covered in cold sweat.
The sensation of being watched overwhelmed her. It was the same unease she had felt during her travels in the spiritual world, but now it was palpable, as if a dark shadow had infiltrated her reality. Brynja realized that something, or someone, did not want her to continue seeking the truth. That revelation filled her with profound fear, but at the same time, her determination flared. She knew that the path to the truth was fraught with danger, but the desire to free her people from the curse was stronger than the terror she felt.
With her heart pounding and her mind filled with questions, Brynja vowed to herself that she would not be stopped. The search for the truth was her destiny, and although the shadows were stalking her, she was determined to confront them. She would not allow fear to rule her life; instead, she would transform it into the fuel that would drive her journey toward the truth. The darkness might be powerful, but her inner light was even brighter.