It was the beginning of spring. The day was clear, almost no clouds in the sky — undoubtedly, a fitting day, as if the world itself invited a soul to rebirth. And, in fact, it did. Tall trees surrounded me, and in the distance, I could see a small village. I never had good eyesight, but if my senses do not betray me, that village was built in medieval architecture.
It seemed like a civilization apart from everything I knew as normal. I believe it is worth exploring — after all, what is the point of a second chance if we do not seek all it has to offer? This reminds me that I never finished my conversation with João, nor resolved my ramblings. But somehow, I ended up in Eden.
I do not know the name of this world. However, the landscapes, the wind, and the feeling that surrounds me suggest I am in paradise. Therefore, it seems only fair to call it Eden.
As I approached the settlement, I was greeted by unfamiliar voices — yet somehow, they conveyed a sense of safety, as if I had heard them somewhere before. They reminded me of... home.
Home: the place where one lives. Hearth: the place to which one belongs. I have lived in many places, but I never belonged to any hearth. In fact, I did belong — when I had her in my life. I returned to the streets when I lost her.
As I walked, head down, a voice interrupted my thoughts.
It was a little girl: long black hair, green eyes, simple clothing. Her posture reflected innocence, and her voice carried a strange sense of nostalgia. She seemed about seven years old.
— It's not common to see an unfamiliar face in these parts of the world's end — she remarked.
— I don't think this place looks like the world's end... There are so many people, animals, plants, and colors. Where I come from, everything is monochrome — I replied, watching her.
— The world? — she asked, curious.
— No... the mind — I concluded.
At first, she didn't seem to care for the answer — or perhaps she didn't understand. She looked up at the clouds as if finding them more interesting than the arrival of a stranger.
— You're strange, you know that? — she said, smiling.
— And who isn't a little strange these days? — I replied, returning the gesture.
— You know, my grandma says funny things like you! — she said, laughing, before running through the streets as if freedom itself belonged to her by right.
— And who is your grandmother? — I raised my voice, trying to reach her ears amid her running.
— Maria! — she replied, her voice fading into the city's density.
Alone again, I took notice of the city around me: clean and organized streets, people moving calmly and others — in a hurry; children running freely, sometimes bumping into each other. There were also some people on horseback, wearing noble clothing, seemingly responsible for keeping order in the city; dogs in packs heading toward what I supposed was the market, and a few stray cats closely watching a man selling fish.
As if noticing my arrival, his gaze met mine and, like a good merchant, he began:
— Hello, you seem to be new here. My name is Vulcano, I sell the best fish at the best prices—
— For the best customers? — I interrupted.
— Yes, how did you guess? Are you a seer? I've never seen a seer in all my life — he replied awkwardly.
— I am no seer, but if you know an author well, you have a good idea of his works — I hinted tactfully.
— I see, so you know many fish vendors... — he answered, thinking aloud.
I don't know many fish vendors, but I have seen a few fools — and this man seemed to be both. Tall, strong build, apparently accustomed to hard work. His gaze was pure, which clashed with the occupation of a merchant. And what stood out the most: he leaned constantly on a staff. It seemed he was lame.
— You only recently started selling fish, didn't you?
— Yes. I used to be a blacksmith, but I had disagreements with my grandfather. He wanted everything done in its time — and I don't want to spend my life in a forge. I left it to my father, with his king complex, to tend to that.
— I see. We can't control where we're born, but we are the protagonists of our own story. I'd like to stay and talk with you, Vulcano, but I must go on my way.
— Farewell, sir — he replied kindly.
I moved on, but my peace of mind did not last. I had no idea I was about to face my eternal past.
At that moment, there was no light nor shadow. My senses were dulled, the sounds became muffled. A strange dichotomy embraced me — I wanted to flee and, at the same time, to embrace it.
I saw my past — the poetry that revealed my pain, the stain that had corrupted me, the reason for my constant flight... my Helena.
She had black hair, fair skin, arms and legs lightly bronzed, as if daily bathed by a relentless sun, and displayed a beautiful smile full of innocence; but behind so much tenderness, she hid the pain of a tragic past.
I approached and, hesitant, commented:
— Is it really you... Helena? — I asked, my face expressionless, though my gaze betrayed me. I awaited the answer, the breath I lacked.
Suddenly, her eyes met mine. There was a silent conflict, as if she did not recognize me and sought, in the darkest corners of her mind, some memory of me.
— Helena? I think you are mistaken, sir. My name is not Helena; perhaps my face reminds you of someone familiar. Good day, sir.
It was quick. Swift. An instant that lasted an eternity.
There could be no doubt. I remember everything: every gesture, gaze, laugh, and sigh — all of it hers.
How is it possible she does not remember me?
And so she went, once again, unhurried. She passed by me, and I... an impassive colossus.
Finally, I collapsed... I don't even know if there was ever a moment when I rebuilt myself — but it doesn't matter, it truly doesn't matter.
Strength left my legs; pathetically, I fell to the ground. My hands trembled, my body no longer belonged to me. I drowned in my desperate anguish.
How I longed for my bottle... a glass, or two... just one sip, anything to calm me.
A warmth arose in my chest, threatening to consume me. I don't know what strange feeling inflames me: it paralyzes me, freezes me in this despair.
How I longed for my bottle... at least it always stayed by my side.
Trembling, I stood and wandered through the busy streets. I no longer saw anyone, not even a destination — I just walked. Sometimes, someone would stare at me, point; others, excessively, would laugh.
As if it were destiny itself, I came across a tavern. On its decaying sign, it read: Acheron.
— Perhaps... loving was my sin. Then judge me, Charon — I said, to no one.
I entered.