Chapter 14: Deep Darkness (!!!)

Chapter 14: Deep Darkness

What is a soul, anyway?
A purely human, intellectual concept, or something unfathomably magical?
Beyond human comprehension?

Tom certainly didn't know. Of course, like most people of his time, he was a believer, though not particularly religious.
He trusted in sea gods and relied on the luck they granted him.
He believed in the immortality of the soul, but understood nothing about it.

She, on the other hand... never pondered such matters. A worldly phronesis had prepared a different role for her. One not as trivial as human souls or lives.
At least, that's what she thought.

Only her opponent in this game understood it better than she did—and certainly better than Tom. For it was his soul that became the stake in this contest.
From his perspective, it would have been rather primitive and foolish to make such a wager without grasping... at least as much as he could. For victory in this seemingly hopeless game would return to him that...

However, to fully understand the flow of this story and the role of Tom—a seemingly ordinary man—in this superhuman game, we must turn to the past.
How distant and dark that past is, I cannot say, for time is a very strange thing.
It seems to flow linearly, yet you've likely noticed how, at certain moments, it accelerates, while in an endless queue, time itself stretches infinitely.

What I know for certain is that it happened. And it was in the past relative to Tom's journey.

An unknown city. An unknown year. An unknown pier by an unfamiliar ocean.

That day, things were going terribly. His father had been fired from work again, prompting his mother to start a quarrel with him.
Under such circumstances, staying home was hard, though he felt a nagging sense of responsibility for his younger brother and sister.
He should have stayed to encourage them, but today, he simply lacked the strength.

He loved his mother and respected his father, but there was nothing he could do. At just 17 years old, it wasn't a particularly dignified age to influence household matters or lecture his parents on how to live. He had enough trouble figuring out his own life.

His stomach was empty, and unpleasant thoughts flooded his mind. Perhaps the circumstances might have justified stealing a pie from the neighboring bakery, but nearly all the common folk in this city—and the baker himself, whom he knew—were in similar straits.

The baker occasionally fed him, his brother, and sister, but such kindness didn't happen every day. So he quickly dismissed this obviously poor idea and decided to take a walk by the ocean.

Water always calmed him... For no matter the weather—be it calm or storm—it always felt natural... Unlike people.
For survival and his own safety, he had to draw boundaries in his mind between good and bad, which sometimes eased and sometimes complicated his life.
The ocean, however, had no such issues... There, he could be anyone while remaining himself.

This was a unique trait, one he believed was inaccessible to ordinary people.
From birth, nearly everything was decided for you: what you'd eat, what education you'd receive, what job you'd have, and how happy you'd be.
In the end, not much was left to your own discretion.
But what did it matter... If life was just a dream between birth and the true, eternal life in Paradise.
Of course, provided you didn't sin...

This evening's melancholy was also tied to the fact that a string on his guitar had broken today. And, naturally, there was no money for new ones.
This preordained life had once again snatched away a tiny piece of his already meager share of happiness.

That evening, the ocean was calm. It mysteriously reflected the light of the full moon across its surface, as if sending a luminous signal far, far into the sky.
A dichotomy of infinities and mystery.
For only God knows what lies in the deepest ocean depths and high in the heavens. To us humans, it's given only to observe a small part and play with ourselves in guesses: "What lies beyond the horizon?"

Wandering far from populated areas, he settled comfortably on the cold ground and, trying to dispel his gloomy thoughts, attempted to play something on his broken guitar.

He loved music—even more than the ocean. For while the ocean only showed him the freedom of existence, music allowed him to touch it, if only briefly.
Since childhood, he could spend hours listening to street musicians, their joyful and sometimes dramatic melodies carrying him far away.
Touching invisible realms, embracing what felt like all humanity, and literally dissolving into the mathematically precise harmony of life.

— Music is pure magic!
He truly believed that, but his parents disapproved of this passion.
When his father brought him the guitar as a child, he thought it would be just a fun toy his son would eventually abandon. After all, music was merely entertainment. Of course, it brought peace and a sense of mystical enchantment, as if the world itself were speaking to you through these motifs.
But it didn't fill your stomach... So, from his father's perspective, he should focus on more "adult" matters. The guitar should have been set aside long ago—or better yet, sold...

He couldn't agree with that notion... Dreams were one of the few things that were pleasant and free for ordinary people. They lit a fire in eyes that might otherwise close forever.
So he couldn't give it up. He needed to at least try, but... He needed new strings.

The guitar sounded awful... Nothing worked, no matter how hard he tried. And with that, negative thoughts began to take over.
It was time to head home. To his brother and sister, to his parents, to that anxious, unpleasant bustle.
No point wasting time here... He couldn't change anything anyway.

But then... At the last moment, just before he left, he heard a melody... A beauty he'd never heard before.
It was a violin...
A violin—a noble instrument. A commoner like him had never had the honor of hearing it before, so the awe it inspired was even greater.

In that moment, his feet carried him forward. No... It wasn't his feet; rather, the melody wrapped around his torso and guided him toward the source of this angelic sound.

— Who's playing this...?

Hastening his pace and making a few turns, he saw her.
For a moment, he thought it was some unknown goddess descended from the heavens.
The same moonlight seemed to blaze even brighter. In its light, her delicate figure in a white, almost translucent dress appeared like a phantom levitating above the ocean.
The music reaching his ears felt... It felt too beautiful.
He surely had no right to hear it. It was something from another world, another existence—more beautiful, more exquisite, simply better...
But he was here. He heard it and felt it.

His body broke out in goosebumps from the moment of beauty he'd never forget.
This girl had given him a perfect moment that would now be his guiding star through life.

Caught in this flood of thoughts and sensations, for which his body wasn't prepared, he didn't notice how his hands surrendered to the magic of the rhythm of this composition and its creator.

His fingers began to slowly pluck the old strings of his worn-out guitar...
It was a union of the ununitable—the very essence of this world, two sides of the same coin.
On one side, a goddess with her mysterious musical charms; on the other, him—a poor boy, not even with a musical instrument, but with mere trash.
Yet it was a true sensory symbiosis of beauty—the very reason a soul enters this world. An unforgettable moment of pure beauty—a manifestation of the world's will in an ordinary event that might never have happened.

The girl turned... She reacted to the flawless playing of this young man.
In that moment of her personal drama and despair, this melody was a lifeline.

An act of divine providence and bestowed hope.
She began to play with even greater enthusiasm, and he continued to accompany her.
That night, without knowing each other, they created something truly incomprehensible and unique.
And their minuscule composition surely brought tears of joy not only to them... But for them, that no longer mattered.

Two lost souls, under different circumstances, met each other at precisely the moment they needed to.
Later, both she and he would think, "Why does this cruel world toy with us like this?! Is such a terrible place truly capable of being illuminated by something so... so beautiful?"

But that didn't matter now. For now, only they existed, along with this connection of unknown nature between them.
Musical notes and waves bound their souls together that evening. Not just for that moment, but for their entire lives.
For all their human lives and beyond.

It seemed that moment lasted an eternity. But eternity is eternity because it has no end, and the value of any beautiful moment lies in its finitude.

When the melody ended, they gazed at each other for a long time, unable to utter a word.
Their bodies grew numb and, for a time, were unresponsive to anything, while the patron god of time exerted all his power to prolong this moment as long as possible.

Coming to his senses, he gathered all his courage. He pushed aside all doubts and finally dared to ask...

— How are you...?
— My name is Tess! And you?