Chapter 21: "The Feather of the Late Beginning

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During our escape, a bullet shattered Milo’s knee, immobilizing him. Soon we would be surrounded and executed.

If someone carries him, they’ll be left behind with him and they’ll get caught.

I looked at him in desperation: my companion was wounded and in critical condition.

“I’ll carry him, you go ahead.” I ordered Finn. As we spoke we were losing time—we had to act immediately: the shouts of the resistance were getting closer.

“But… we can’t lose you too.” Markos answered.

The march of our captors grew louder.

“Elias, please, leave me here.” Milo said, looking at me sadly, abandoning his life.

“No, that’s unthinkable. We all came together and we’ll leave together.” I replied, frantic.

The troops were closing in, and with them our execution.

“Elias, leave me. I don’t deserve for you to take me: I… I betrayed our escape plan.” His voice cracked, laced with guilt and fear. Each word tore a piece from his soul.

I stood stunned.

It can’t be…

“What… did you say?”

He took off his shirt. His skin was a map of cuts, burns and bruises.

“They tortured me until I spoke. They ripped me apart! Forgive me! I swear I tried to resist, but… I couldn’t,” he said with a broken rage.

You… betrayed us? You betrayed me.

Twelve years. Twelve years we’d survived together like brothers. Twelve years of hunger, cold and blood. He broke his promise as leader: to take us to a better place, together.

Together. Yes, all together. Like brothers, together.

Contempt rose through my veins without mercy.

I looked him in the eyes and found not the boy I’d shared bread with in the orphanage, not the friend who lent me his coat on cold nights. I saw only a traitor, a vile traitor.

You sold our hopes.

My heart flared in an explosion.

Time ran out: the soldiers’ shadows appeared.

A shot.

His head snapped back and silence fell over us: no footsteps, no pleas could be heard. His hot blood splattered my face.

I didn’t cry, I didn’t grieve, I didn’t beg for him to come back—I only felt something break inside me.

No— I lie. I feel nothing. I killed a traitor; I must not regret it.

We left his corpse behind and kept running.

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We settled in some ruins, far from the resistance base. This time, we were fugitives from both the enemy army and the resistance: we had no allies in the country.

It is just us again, like in the old days.

With Milo died our group, and sanity crumbled.

Finn paced back and forth, unresponsive, absent.

“How could you have killed him, you idiot!” Sven yelled at me, dazing me. “And you keep going on—don’t you care?”

I will not sink because of a traitor, and I won’t let you either.

He spun in circles, clutching his head and hitting us at every chance. His rage was uncontrollable.

“I didn’t kill Milo—I killed the traitor who betrayed us. We could have died because of him. Don’t you see?” I said, without a hint of doubt.

In one stone corner, Tav was gripped by panic. His breathing was ragged and he was drenched in sweat. He hadn’t spoken since we escaped. Markos at his side tried to console him.

“Look at what you´ve done!” Markos shouted. “Tav´s not talking, he doesn’t even dare look us in the eyes and you keep insisting what you did was right?!”

Traitors go to the graveyard.

“He didn’t do it on purpose.” Sven continued, pushing me against the wall. “They tortured him, it wasn’t his fault!”

“Who gave you the right to decide to shoot him!?” Markos roared, driven by voracious fury. “Forget about your twisted beliefs and understand: you killed your best friend, you psychopath!”

The arguments were endless. Sven and Markos hated me with a vengeance. Finn and Tav, meanwhile, suffered in silence.

They don’t approve of what I did because they don’t understand it was for their good. I’m right. Yes, exactly. They’re the ones who are wrong. Yes, exactly. It’s because they don’t understand. Yes, exactly.

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During the night, Finn suffered dreadful nightmares so overwhelming that, asleep, he clung to us with such force he tore pieces of skin from us. No matter how much we tried, it was in vain: he refused to wake.

The next morning, we found Finn’s body hanging from a tree.

He couldn’t cope with his conscience—he couldn’t accept it: Milo was a traitor.

Tav could not stop trembling. The events overwhelmed him. Neither the war nor the years in the resistance had taken such a toll on him. He stopped eating, drinking, and sometimes even breathing.

He can’t deal with the trauma—he can’t accept it: Milo was a traitor.

Water ran low. Rain soaked our matches;:we couldn’t cook.

Markos, for his part, turned his rage into hope: he said he saw Milo everywhere, begging for help. He cried, inconsolable, as Milo pleaded to be freed.

“Please, enough: go back to the world of the dead. Please, die already. Leave me alone, leave me alone!” He sobbed during the day, but especially at night.

He can’t deal with the guilt—he can’t accept it: Milo was a traitor.

Food began to run out. The cold pierced the ruins mercilessly. Looking at each other’s faces was painful.

Sven hated me: I was his greatest enemy. He despised me and showed it a thousand ways. When we approached, he beat us until we were exhausted. Nevertheless, we offered no resistance: we believed enduring his wrath would grant us redemption.

He can’t deal with his impotence—he can’t accept it: Milo was a traitor. I did the right thing, I was right, no one can tell me otherwise: I was not wrong.

Fear consumed us, hopelessness destroyed our wills, the last vestige of salvation we had left now had a bullet in his head.

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Days later, Tav was in a precarious state: he had not eaten, not slept, not lived. Remembering Milo’s face hurled him into an infinite, relentless void.

If we hadn’t trusted him, this wouldn’t have happened.

We ran out of water. Our clothes were in tatters. The world kept spinning around us, but we remained motionless.

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Days later, Marko left the ruins. He said Milo had told him how to save him, and that he was going to meet him to help, to remedy what he hadn’t done that night.

If we hadn’t accepted him into our brotherhood, this wouldn’t have happened.

We ran out of food. Snowfalls turned fierce, battering us from all sides. We couldn’t feel our feet, hands, or hearts.

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Days later, Sven, in an outburst of uncontrollable rage, smashed the last of the provisions. Then he took it out on the ruin’s walls, reducing them to dust. He shattered his hands in the process.

Tav screamed at him without cease to stop, that he was hurting himself, but it was in vain.

If we hadn’t known him, this wouldn’t have happened.

We lost reason, we lost affection, we lost sanity, and without it, the line between reality and our imagination blurred.

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Hungry, freezing, covered in sores and bruises, buried in filth and neglect, all we had left was to wait.

Hopeless, we crawled through misery. Each trapped in his own universe, we surrendered to oblivion.

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Days later, while sleeping, I a knife pierced my heart.

I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t want to know which of them had killed me. Although the answer was obvious.

The lights came on, the actors left the stage and the audience began to applaud. They were shadows—thousands of shadows cheering my death.

It pierces my soul to have seen it; I feel helpless. They are guilt and remorse: they punish this human wreck and have devastated me.

“How delightful, that was indeed a spectacular show. Your laments are worthy of nourishing my being.” The Ruin interjected, transporting me back to Creation, into the interior of The Tree of Animas.

When I died, I believed I was right, that I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did. But now, every time Milo’s face appears in my memories, bitterness and melancholy invade me. Why...?

On a pedestal surrounded by the tree’s sap, a halo of radiant white light floated small black threads like a desolate void. It was the Feather of the Late Beginning, waiting for its new bearer.

Has traveling with Zera tempered my spirit? Is it Lumen’s will? Does she wish me to be merciful with Milo, to forgive him? Or perhaps the vengeance I chase against Zenith has exhausted my soul?

“It is what hundreds of deities have yearned for through the ages. I offer it to you, human. The power to rewrite reality, to touch the veil of existence. The abyss calls you, leading you toward an inescapable fate, but now you can plunge the universe into your misfortune.”

Milo… I hated you with all my soul after that day. You were a brother to me, you rescued me in the most critical moments, in a world as hopeless as ours. And yet, why is your departure so tearing to me?

The weight of guilt was destroying me.

I was impulsive: I decided to kill him without thinking and locked myself in the idea that I had done the right thing. Zera… what would you have done in my place with your kindness?

The Feather of the Late Beginning trembled restlessly, weaving its threads into a mystical fabric.

Sentinel… How would you have kept your loyalty in my place?

The Ruin began to grow impatient, like one desperate to seal a perverse bargain.

“How can I free myself from this pain?” I asked the Ruin, defeated by the torments devouring me inside.

Did he really betray us? Did what he do deserve death?

“If you want to feel better, you must destroy your bond with him.” The Ruin suggested.

“Destroy it? How? That’s impossible. I can’t ignore how much I appreciated him.”

“Disintegrate every fragment of your past, ignore your emotions and offer your soul to the rift that oscillates between the human and the divine.”

Time passed slowly as I remained dazed in my thoughts. A drop of blood fell on my face, then I returned to the world around me.

“Why did you show me my past?” I asked, upset. “What benefit could The Ruin gain from manipulating a simple human like me?”

“You cannot use the Feather if you do not understand your origin and end.” It said, reverberating through the tree’s walls. “With its power you will unleash a primordial chaos. Existence and reality will blur again in a spectacle the world hasn’t seen in eons.”

I still don’t understand. Why does it want a human to possess it?

“And how does that benefit you?” I stepped toward the Feather, stunned as its radiant glow and absolute blackness swayed endlessly.

“If The Primordial Eclipse is unleashed, I will be freed as well.” It intoned solemnly, the world around me fading.

But I don’t plan to free the Eclipse—I want to kill Zenith. What does it mean?

Before it vanished, I took the Feather. On touching it, its colors tore and clung to my arm like chains, sealing a bond that would last until my final days.

When I opened my eyes, I was back with Zera and The Primordial Eclipse.

What did The Ruin mean? I don’t know, but I have other things to think about now. I think my past is unresolved. Milo… what should I do with you?

“What were you talking about?” I asked Zera, trying to distract myself.

“He told me that the Intermediaries are the only creatures linked to the Silence and that I can call them, but he refuses to explain why.” She said.

Is that why its power seems to extend beyond this world: they are part of a profane element. Will the gods know of the Silence’s existence?

“Drowned in a sea of uncertainty and despair that's when your gift will shine at its fullest.” He replied with an ominous voice. Yet she sounded tired: her words were heavy.

“What is the Feather?” I showed her my arm, wrapped in contradictory colors. They oscillated in perpetual motion.

How hypnotic… They seem to have a life of their own.

“Look at my wings, human.” He said, trying to move them. “Before I was sealed, The Ruin and the Genesis cursed them to prevent their realm from falling. The Feather you bear is the only one that persisted across their domains.”

If a single one can alter history, I can’t imagine what would happen if their wings weren’t petrified…

“He explained that we must protect it with our lives.” Zera added. “Many entities and divinities will come to claim it. Only the Sons of Silence can bear it and prevent a catastrophe.”

A small hill formed beneath our feet. From it a fetid steam rose. When some flowers approached, they consumed it and became titans.

“Your fate has changed: you are both now Sons of Silence.” He said, then closed the eye in her head. “I must go; the World Gods must not know that my eternal slumber has been interrupted. Remember, Darek: you must consummate your vengeance even if it means losing everything.”

The Abyss of the Forsaken Faiths began to devour the sky. The world trembled, the sun flickered and nature consumed its life.

“Wait, don’t go. I still have questions!” I cried, approaching her cage. “What does it mean to be a Son of Silence? How do I use the Feather? Can I kill Zenith with it? Why do the divinities seek it? What is a World God? Answer me!”

Why is The Ruin also interested in me killing Zenith? Why did it appear personally to give it to me? What do they want?

Without answers, the universe extinguished. In an instant, we returned to the edge of the Abyss: we were back on the surface.

What happened to this place?

The landscape we had seen before entering the Abyss had changed: the roots regained life, nature dominated everything and even some animals were exploring the area.

“Darek… what is this?” Zera asked, stunned.

“It can’t be—the hole was immense. How is it possible that it’s covered with undergrowth, roots and plants? What happened here?”

A pristine beauty captivated the sight, giving us a display of vibrant colors, delightful scents, relaxing sounds.

It seems as if the white roots we’d seen before had blossomed, regaining their beauty. Did this happen because of our visit to The Primordial Eclipse?

Then, a crash broke the calm. In the distance, from The Fringe Cities, an immense wall of plants, flowers, shrubs and animals rose, covering the horizon and the sky.

It’s heading toward us, but something is wrong: it’s a mass of diseased, corrupt life.