On the tower that always lay prostrated on the horizon, distant and impossible to reach unless it called you itself.On one of its floors, a young man with purple hair —like watercolor freshly brushed onto a canvas— stood atop the peak of a gigantic steam-powered flying machine, whose center housed a crystal that pulsed with thousands of colors sliding and bouncing like fragments of liquid light. The vessel, as wide as a small town, cut through the sky at a steady speed.
"Ah, damn it! I keep moving forward and… every step sets me two steps back." Adam gnashed his teeth, yanking out strands of hair in frustration, not noticing the emptiness opening beneath him.
A brutal gust slammed into him from the side. His body gave out, leaving him hanging in midair, wobbling over the abyss.
"Adam!!!" shouted a youthful voice from a balcony that served as a lookout. A hand waved, and a rope shot in his direction.
As he plummeted, Adam shoved his hand inside his coat. From the darkness, a small book emerged, glowing faintly as it opened."First pages, the most important ones!" he muttered, fingers skimming frantically through the paper.After a moment, he found what he seemed to be searching for. He pointed his palm downward and growled:"I wanted to save this for something better…" He clenched his teeth. "Gluttony, regurgitate."
A shockwave burst from his hand, launching him upward in an instant. The rope managed to latch onto him and drag him to the balcony.
Adam grabbed the railing, panting hard, and walked inside as if nothing had happened."Young master, are you all right?" asked Fidelis, his voice soaked in worry.
"Yeah, yeah… nothing I can't handle." Adam shook his coat, let go of the book, and it turned to ashes that vanished before hitting the floor.
"But… how did you fall from—?""I'm fine," he cut him off, curt. "Bring me something… the most complicated thing you can find."
He gently pushed him toward the interior and shut the door. With his ear pressed to the wood, he waited to hear his footsteps grow distant.
"Alright…" he whispered, stretching. The word broke into a cough; a mouthful of blood spilled out. He wiped it with his coat without flinching and slid down against the wall, his chest burning with pain.
"Shit… didn't brace for the impact, and it managed to hit me—" he let out a rough, bitter laugh. His eyes lifted toward the bright sky.
"A year and a half here… and I still haven't finished collecting the fragments. I can't even get out of this place." He slipped his hand back into his coat; the book reappeared, its pages spinning at a dizzying speed. "Right, primordial?"
After the dizzying night, Adam had fallen asleep on the lookout.
After being dragged to his room, 42-29, he was placed in bed and left there until the next morning.
The room, though small, was equipped with just enough for a short stay; more than a bedroom, it resembled a tiny apartment.
Fidelis, like any good member of a retinue, had been awake long before the one he called his "master." He moved through the room with silent precision, cleaning and preparing breakfast for the day. Every gesture, every movement, reflected care and routine, while the morning light slipped through the window, illuminating simple furniture and the calm air of the room.
Adam opened his eyes with a start. The pain in his chest tore through him like a brutal reminder of last night's fall. He pressed a hand to his torso and let out a groan.
"You brought me back to the room?" he rubbed his eyes with his sleeve.
"That's right, my lord. As your follower, it is my duty to serve you."
"We've talked about this so many times, Fidelis. You're my companion, not a follower. I let you come with me because it was better than leaving you where you were, where…" Adam turned his gaze toward Fidelis.
Maybe he hadn't noticed it before, or maybe he had been ignoring it, but the one accompanying him was barely a child. In the eyes of any adult, both of them were. As he remembered, since they met half a year ago, Fidelis had only just turned fourteen. Far too young for any of this.
Adam wasn't much older; he only had three years on him. And still, there they were: two kids facing problems that felt made for adults, tangled in matters they shouldn't be involved in. The awareness of their own youth and responsibility weighed on them with a silence that filled the room.
Fidelis shifted uneasily in his chair. He knew Adam was right, but Adam had never treated him like a servant or a follower. His loyalty and affection knew no hierarchies, only the trust they had chosen to give each other.
Adam extended his arm for Fidelis to help him stand.
"So, did you find anything about the one behind the white hat?" Adam asked as he changed his shirt.
"Unfortunately, no, my lord." There was doubt in his voice.
Adam rolled his eyes in defeat. Fidelis wasn't going to change.
"Alright, we'll have to go out and…" He fell silent for a moment. "I don't even know anymore, I can't find anything useful."
They'd been stuck for days, unsure of which direction to take, and nothing seemed to work in their favor.
"Are you sure such a person exists? Lately it seems like you're just putting together pieces from different puzzles to look for someone who might not even exist."
Adam gave a bitter smile.
"Maybe. But this letter…" he raised his hand and, with a flash, the object appeared between his fingers. The paper was covered in symbols that seemed to crawl beneath the surface like insects under skin. "It's the only real clue I have."
Fidelis leaned over the table and frowned. He stopped for a moment to examine the letter. Soon, a defeated expression settled on his face. It was covered in symbols and unintelligible shapes that, with every glance, only confused him more.
"I don't understand any of this. The more I look at it, the less sense it makes."
Adam didn't fully understand it either. Until, amid the chaos of dancing symbols, one remained still. Golden. Motionless. As if it were staring back at him. His indigo eyes met that golden gleam, forming a hypnotic contrast.
The air in the room grew dense. Despite the unease, Adam let out a faint smile.
"It doesn't matter…" he said, closing the letter. He slid it inside the book he pulled from the inside of his shirt, as if that hiding place had always been there. "It's not time yet."
With a hop —ignoring the stabbing pain in his body— he grabbed his coat and, with a simple gesture, signaled Fidelis to get ready to set off. He then walked out with a motivation he hadn't shown in a long time.
"It's time to look for results, Fidelis," he said, looking at him from the doorway.