Chapter 77: A Life
The visible horizon cracked like a mirror struck by an invisible force.
The earth trembled in all directions and split open in deep fissures. Screams full of panic erupted around him as bodies fell helplessly into the darkness.
Gabriel extended his hand in a final attempt to save himself, but his fingers only found air. The void swallowed him completely.
He was another of the victims who fell without recognizing the reason.
For an unknown time he remained totally unconscious.
Until he finally woke up.
His eyes took several seconds to adjust to the soft light entering through the window with a wooden frame.
His surroundings were made of rustic walls, a roof in poor condition, and a damp smell. He was enveloped in an avalanche of sensations.
Gabriel blinked confused. His pale hands rested on the edge of his makeshift bed filled with straw sacks.
He got up slowly.
His muscles were sore after a long workday. The night had done little for his rest.
He was an ordinary woodcutter in Miracle City. A man without great feats, possessions, or virtuous acts.
Just a son trying to keep his mother alive. He dedicated practically all his useful time to generating money that could help her with her condition.
The cabin was humble, inherited from his father. Two small rooms, stone furniture, and a fireplace that barely managed to combat the constant cold.
Gabriel approached the other room with silent steps, without intending to wake his mother without warning.
She lay in bed, pale and practically consumed by agonizing pain. The strange illness devouring her from within had left her without strength.
A few months ago she had lost the ability to speak. Only her eyes, overflowing with maternal affection, followed him when he knelt beside her.
With tenderness, Gabriel wet a cloth in the bucket of cold water and passed it four times over her forehead, as he did every morning.
"Dear mother... soon you will be on your feet," he whispered softly. "You don’t deserve to be chained to this bed."
The woman raised a trembling hand and caressed his forearm. That simple gesture contained all the love she could no longer express with words.
Gabriel gave her the daily dose of the medicinal brew that barely managed to delay the inevitable and prayed a short prayer beside her body.
Then, he took the axe and went out.
A purpose burned in his chest every time he attended to her attentively. Fortunately they had a close family friend who managed to take care of his mother.
***
The forest received him with its usual birdsong and a beautiful breeze that rippled his cheap clothes. They served their purpose in preventing accidental injuries.
His work consisted of cutting wood from dawn until the sun had practically set. Each blow of the axe resonated with force in an intoxicating rhythm.
His muscles burned, but he did not stop. Every log meant coins.
Every coin was a significant effort dedicated purely to his mother.
At dusk, he went and delivered the wood in the city. Ending at the local church.
He knelt before the worn altar and prayed with fervor. He asked for strength, health, and a miracle that seemed increasingly distant.
When he left, the sky was already tinted orange.
His second job awaited him at the tavern in the center.
The place was full of tired but cheerful people.
It was the only place of leisure in the city. Where everyone gathered to share their sorrows and, for moments, to live.
Merchants, peasants, and soldiers filled the tables. Gabriel occupied his favorite stool near the music and cleared his throat.
"Today I have a special story for you." He announced with a clear and eloquent voice.
The Noble and the Blood: A Tale of Destruction.
Those present fell silent almost immediately. Gabriel began to narrate with vehemence and experience.
His voice flowed like a river, never the same twice, changing tone according to the moment. He described the powerful noble, his gothic castle, his victories, and his arrogance.
Then came the betrayal, the fall, and the cruel winter. Which ended with a bonfire and the enraged crowd.
"And on a winter day, his moon went out." He recited with drama.
"The flames roared and the crowd added firewood to his feet, causing the great man to die with agonizing eyes!"
The ending drew enthusiastic applause. Some banged on the tables and many others asked for more.
"Another! Another story, Gabriel!"
"This boy has talent. Too bad he’s so committed to cutting wood."
He smiled modestly but shook his head.
"I would love to share another beer with you. But as you all know... it’s impossible." He said in a theatrical tone.
Making gestures that asked for mercy and forgiveness, in a comical way.
The boos were immediate, although they soon turned into warm laughter. They gave him pats on the back and toasted to him.
While walking back under the stars, Gabriel murmured to himself.
"One more story... I’m getting closer to the five the Baron asked for."
The lunar water his mother needed could only be obtained from the Baron’s family.
Five well-told stories in exchange for a single dose. It was an extremely strange deal, but it had become his only hope.
He remembered that day clearly.
He never regretted a single day. Just as his mother had struggled and practically given her life for him, he would do the same.
***
The night was at its peak, with bright stars illuminating the firmament.
Gabriel whistled a soft melody as he walked along the path leading to his cabin, located on the outskirts.
He had passed by the medicinal shop before, so the path felt longer.
Suddenly, a bad premonition ran down his spine.
A funereal intuition visited him. In an instant, he knew that something was really wrong.
He quickened his pace. With his heart beating hard.
"Mom, please... just one more day."
He arrived running. The cabin door was ajar.
With trembling hands he pushed it violently and entered directly into his mother’s room.
The silence hit him with an implacable force, much stronger than a wild boar.
His mother lay motionless, with a weak smile frozen on her lips. Her eyes were closed forever.
Gabriel remained paralyzed for several seconds. Then, everything became blurry.
He did not remember how he left the cabin. He only knew he was running like a wounded animal toward the deep forest.
He tripped over roots, fell, got up, and kept running. Uncontrollable tears stained his pale face.
He ran until his strength ran out.
He fell to his knees on a large moss-covered rock.
The cold of the rock brought him slightly back to reality. His vision was blurry, with swollen eyes.
He tore his clothes with fury and hit the rock again and again. His knuckles opened in a display of untamed violence.
In his head he had completely lost his senses. Motivated solely by the desire to vent and think that reality was a morbid illusion.
His hot blood covered the rock. The aroma spread through the forest.
"Why me?!" He shouted toward the sky.
"God! I have prayed so much for you!"
His voice broke.
"Why her?! Then me? Why?"
He hit the rock even harder. His knuckles had practically split, with his skin torn. But the pain never compared to the emptiness he felt.
He begged between sobs, with his face pressed against the cold rock.
In his life there was no other meaning. He had suffered too much to keep the flame of hope alive, but it finally went out without any mercy.
At that moment before him there was nothing more than an island of disappointment and fear.
"A miracle! A miracle! A miracle!"
Only his sobs were audible. The lush noises of the forest had disappeared.
The wind had stopped at some point, with the insects vanishing.
Gabriel, with his eyes closed and covered in tears, saw nothing. But he heard a voice tinged with an ancient, deep, and familiar coldness.
"Fear is the first defeat."
The voice resonated inside his mind like an echo from another time. A voice that seemed to belong to him and not belong to him at the same time.
Gabriel slowly raised his head. His breathing had become an agitated frenzy.
The blood that had once stained his knuckles in a bloody mess had disappeared.
For a moment, something inside him stirred.
A sensation born from a very distant memory. Extremely distant, like a cry crossing multiple lives.
The voice had not continued speaking, as if waiting for his reaction.
He found himself in the darkness. Condemned to suffer his mother’s death.
But at some point, his eyes shone with a crimson tone.
He clenched his fists, without his knuckles hurting. He had already lost everything, he no longer needed to keep doubting.
With courage he raised his face and immediately his face became even more livid and dead than before.
His mouth trembled without forming any words. As if what he saw before him was impossible and difficult to express.