The forest behind the city was not made of trees, it was made of memories. Tall and motionless, the canopies intertwined in a ceiling of dense leaves, blocking most of the morning sunlight. The little that passed through created golden slits between the branches, beams that seemed to search for something time had buried.
The ground was damp and dark, covered in dry leaves, exposed roots, and small fungi that shone shyly under the filtered light. A strong smell of wet earth, moss, and decaying wood permeated the air, heavy and cold like an ancient longing.
The forest was silent. Not the natural silence of the absence of sound, but a forced, imposed silence, as if something in that place drove away even the birds. And in a way, it did.
A little more than three kilometers from the last paved street, hidden among crooked trees and giant ferns, there was a cabin. Small, made of aged boards, the wood darkened by time and abandonment. The windows were closed, covered in dust. One of the doors creaked slightly with the wind, even though locked, as if protesting against the silence. Spiderwebs adorned the corners of the sloped ceiling, and the interior, visible through a crack in the window, seemed frozen in time, with a blanket thrown on a sofa, a dirty glass on a table, and a picture frame fallen on the floor.
But no one could see that. Because no one could get close.
The cabin was surrounded by an invisible barrier, expanding for a radius of exactly one kilometer. There was no warning. There was no sign. Only a silent force, dense as glass, pushing everything away: animals, insects, humans. Anyone who tried to cross that limit would be gently repelled, as if the forest rejected them.
And in the center of it all, like the last point of warmth in a fading world, was Cael.
Sitting on the cold dirt ground, facing the cabin, he remained motionless. Legs crossed in a meditation position, back straight, eyes closed. His appearance, at 20 years old, was that of someone with contained strength, which did not scream, but resonated deeply. His oval-shaped face, with fine but well-defined bone structure, radiated an intense beauty. His black hair, long and straight, reached his shoulders, with some strands resting gently over his ears and framing his face. It was well-kept hair, even if sometimes a bit messy, adding a touch of naturalness to his composure.
The sunlight, filtered by the leaves, drew golden patterns on his light-toned skin, almost translucent, like forgotten porcelain. The shadows played with his features, accentuating his tense jaw and the seriousness of his countenance.
He wore a black hoodie jacket with the hood down, covering part of his neck, and equally dark pants, in a wide and comfortable cut. His flat-soled sneakers, totally black, barely touched the ground. Everything about him seemed to want to go unnoticed. Except for his presence. Standing there, in the center of the clearing, Cael looked like a loose piece of a painting someone tried to tear, something out of place, but incredibly right where it was.
The cabin, despite being abandoned, seemed alive to his presence. As if both shared the same grief.
The breeze among the trees ceased as if even the wind respected that moment. Cael's eyes, dark brown, almond-shaped and deep, opened slowly, with a melancholic shine that carried storms that never came to explode. He inhaled deeply, the cold air filling his lungs, and then stood up with the same fluidity of a lengthening shadow.
Upon touching the doorknob of the cabin door, the wood responded with a "dry crack", like an old bone being dislocated. The door opened, and the smell that came out was that of memory: mold, ancient dust, and a distant touch of cheap perfume, something sweet, floral, which he hadn't smelled in years, but still lived in his mind like an echo.
The interior was dark, except for a single beam of light entering through a crack between the boards of a poorly sealed window. The light cut through the gloom like a golden blade, hitting directly a framed portrait on the table. Cael looked away, his serious and introspective expression barely altering.
He entered. The wooden floor creaked under his steps, protesting, recognizing. The two-seater sofa was exactly as he had left it: with the old red blanket thrown carelessly over one of the arms. On the small table, next to the portrait, there was a cracked mug with dry coffee marks. A stack of crooked books still supported a melted candle, now extinguished.
Spiderwebs covered the corners of the ceiling, thin and trembling, like mourning veils. On the floor, the accumulated dust revealed only a pair of footprints, his own, going back and forth, always in the same rhythm, like a ritual.
Cael walked to the picture. It was an old photo: him and Rose, embraced in front of the cabin itself, when everything was still warmth. She wore a simple white dress, and her red hair tied in the two characteristic buns. The slightly freckled face, the open and bold smile, the orange eyes shining. He was younger, less dejected, with a shy but genuine smile.
Cael ran his fingers along the edge of the frame, like someone touching a ghost. He stayed there for long seconds, until the memory swallowed him.
The image of the last time they were there together appeared vivid: the smell of rain, the taste of the kiss, the sound of her laughter mixing with the crackling of the fireplace. And then, the silence. The disappearance. The lie.
He squeezed his eyes shut, like someone trying to crush a pain against their eyelids. The frame cracked under his hand, and he let go before it broke.
— You used me... — Murmured he, almost in a whisper, his voice choked, an echo of his silent guilt and fear of getting attached and losing again.
In that instant, something inside him broke again, like every time he returned there. But even with the pain, he kept coming back. Because that was the last thing left of her. And perhaps, the only thing that still kept him whole.
He sat on the sofa, sinking into the old padding and resting his elbows on his knees. Head down, hands clasped, gaze lost on the wooden floor. The golden light from the window now touched his face, tracing soft contours on his exhausted and introspective expression.
A long silence hung, until broken by an almost imperceptible sound: a small "tick", like metal scraping against metal. It was her pendant, hanging on the doorknob of the bedroom door in the back. A simple circle with a rose drawn on it, her symbol.
Cael stood up slowly, as if every muscle in his body weighed a ton. He walked to the pendant, took it off the doorknob, and closed it in the palm of his hand.
— This should be with you. But you chose to disappear, Rose... — His voice broke a little at the end, revealing the open wound. — After all these years, why couldn't I get over you?
His eyes, for an instant, shine in a prismatic tone, like a flash. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, the telekinetic barrier around the forest oscillated. The air around seemed to tremble, as if the world itself had held its breath.
And then, he took a deep breath and regained control.
But the storm was just beginning.
Some time later. The forest was left behind, but it still seemed stuck to Cael's skin, in the damp smell infiltrating his clothes, in the silence still living inside his ears. He walked slowly between the bushes that bordered the backyard of his house, the sun starting to rise above the treetops, casting golden blades against the tall grass and the roof of the simple, but well-kept house where he lived.
His room was upstairs, with a frosted glass window facing directly the back of the house. With a smooth, almost lazy jump, Cael landed on the window ledge like someone returning to a nest, a glimpse of his hidden enhanced abilities, a habitual, almost automatic gesture. He pushed the glass with his hand and slid inside without making a sound, like a breeze crossing the crack of a slightly open door.
The room was small and clean. The walls, a dark blue shade, were covered by shelves with science books, organized boxes with disassembled gadgets, and a whiteboard stained with unfinished formulas, signs of his hacker and scientist mind. There was a single bed against the wall, with rumpled sheets and a black blouse left on the pillow. Cael, still in sneakers, didn't take off his shoes. He swapped his black hoodie jacket for another black hoodie jacket without a zipper, which was lighter. A ray of sun passed through the blinds, scratching the wooden floor with a faint light, as if the world outside tried to peek in.
Cael left Rose's pendant on the table beside the bed, and rubbed his face with his hands, revealing the tiredness in his countenance. Then, he opened the bedroom door and went out into the hallway, his steps soft against the varnished wooden floor. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and melted butter reached him even before turning the hallway. He smiled, only slightly, only inside, one of the rare and subtle flashes of tenderness that only the presence of "family" provoked.
In the kitchen, Hana stood near the sink, stirring something in a frying pan. She was an Asian woman of 40 years, 1.60m tall, effortlessly thin and elegant. Her black hair was cut in an elegant bob style, and her gentle face, with well-defined features, conveyed a serene vitality. She wore gray pajama pants and a long-sleeved blouse, simple and functional, but with an elegant fit reflecting her personality. Beside her, leaning on the counter with a mug in her hands, was Maya.
Maya, a young woman of 20 years, had a livelier presence. Her face with soft features, leaning towards oval with slightly fuller cheekbones, gave her a delicate and adolescent appearance making her look younger than her 20 years. Her intense and voluminous red hair was tied in a bun, her fair skin sprinkled with freckles, and her vibrant emerald-green eyes seemed always about to explode with joy. She wore cotton pajama shorts stamped with hearts and a light pink strap top, enhancing her youthfulness.
"Was he in the forest again?" — She says, in thoughts. The smell of wet woods accompanied him like a shadow.
Hana looked over her shoulder, eyes passing quickly from Cael to the black hoodie he wore. But neither of them commented. That was part of the daily routine. A habit of his. A ghost that came with him. Hana, with her always straight posture and gaze that reads the soul, understood Cael's need.
— We're out of bread. — Said Maya, taking a sip of coffee, her witty and loud voice breaking the silence.
Cael opened the fridge, took an apple, and bit it, without haste. He stood with his back to them, looking at the interior of the fridge as if searching for a hidden world among the margarine tubs.
— I can go buy it — Said he, with a low and sharp voice, as if it were a calculated sacrifice, fighting against his social phobia.
There was a small silence. Maya stared at him with an expression mixed with surprise and doubt. Hana stopped stirring the pan, her logical reasoning already processing Cael's unusual attitude.
— You? Going to the bakery? — Maya questioned with a crooked little smile on the corner of her mouth, ready for provocation. — Is the world ending today?
Cael turned his face to her, eyes half-closed, and replied dryly:
— If it's not needed, I won't go.
The cold and direct tone froze the kitchen atmosphere for a second. But Maya smiled, and Hana lowered the fire.
— You're trying, right? — Said Maya, softer now, revealing her empathy behind the facade. — It's the weird way of saying "I'm preparing myself not to freak out at university", right?
Cael bit another piece of the apple and simply ignored Maya. Hana watched him with an almost maternal gaze, but loaded with respect. She understood that kind of silence, his internal struggle.
— There's still a month left until initiation. — Commented she, casually, while flipping the pancakes. Her calm and stable voice transmitted security. — There is time to buy more bread... and to breathe a little before diving in.
Cael looked through the kitchen window. The sunlight now hit from the side, spreading soft reflections over the stainless steel sink. He finished eating the apple, took the key from the holder near the door, and just said:
— I'll be right back.
And left.
The sound of the door closing left a pause in the air. Maya sighed, and Hana smiled from the corner of her mouth.
— He is trying. — Hana murmured, with certain relief in her voice.
The world was still wet from the dawn. The sidewalks shone under the pale sun, reflecting a faded blue from the shallow puddles accumulated on the slopes of the street. The city woke up slowly, as if stretching its bones after a heavy sleep. Cars passed slower, shops began to raise their metal doors with metallic noises sounding like mechanical yawns.
Cael walked along the sidewalks like a silent shadow of 1.80m. His silhouette, wrapped in a zipperless black hoodie jacket and wide dark pants, moved as if he didn't belong to that place, as if floating among the living, but had already been buried. His dark hair, long and straight, fell over his forehead, further molding the expressionless countenance he carried. His dark brown eyes, almond-shaped and deep, were fixed on nothing. It wasn't a thoughtful look, nor attentive. It was a look... switched off, reflecting his introspection and isolation.
The bakery was a few blocks away. Small, with exposed bricks and moss-green awning, the kind of place sustained by people's affective memory and the unmistakable smell of hot bread. As soon as he entered, the aroma of yeast and butter invaded his lungs like a sweet slap.
The environment was welcoming, with light wood shelves, beige tile floor, and a display case full of simple sweets: sugar donuts, chocolate-covered eclairs, cakes with missing slices. On the side, an open metal heater gleamed under white lamps, revealing rows of freshly baked bread, still steaming. Cael took three, with firm hands, and went to the counter.
— Good morning. — Said the baker, a middle-aged gentleman with a round belly, thick mustache, and an apron stained with flour.
Cael just handed over the bread, avoiding eye contact. The man weighed, labeled, smiled, without response. Cael paid at the cashier and left, with the paper bag in his right hand and the silence around him like armor.
The way back was the same. The streets gained more movement, the noise of engines competing with the timid singing of birds hidden in urban trees. The sun now infiltrated between the buildings, projecting long shadows like fingers trying to grab the city.
Cael stopped at the traffic light of the neighborhood's main avenue. The pedestrian signal was still red, and he remained motionless, staring at the asphalt as if expecting it to give way under his feet.
It was then that a voice beside him broke the bubble:
— Beautiful day, right?
He didn't look.
— Seems like the city decided to wake up in a good mood today. — Insisted the voice, female, young.
Cael blinked slowly but kept his eyes fixed on the traffic light.
— My name is Aurora. — Said she, now a little closer, with a smile that could be heard in the intonation of her voice.
He replied, dryly:
— Cael.
— Strong name. — Said she, like someone evaluating a rare jewel. — Anyway... I'm new here. I lived with my aunt before. I moved this week, to live with my sister. I'm going to study at the same university she works at. I'm nervous, you know? New city, new people... But I'm also excited. I want to know everything, make friends... Oh! This street has an amazing ice cream shop, did you know? The strawberry one is surreal!
Cael didn't react. The young woman didn't seem to mind the unilateral monologue, filling the silence like someone planting flowers in sterile ground. She had platinum blonde hair falling long and straight over her shoulders, with a soft shine making her look ethereal. Her blue eyes, large and bright, radiated vivid curiosity, and her very fair skin, slightly pink, accentuated her delicate features. She wore a white t-shirt with a sunflower print and a yellow backpack, white sneakers already dirty from the city.
The signal opened. Aurora gave a rushed wave with her hand, excited.
— See you, Cael!
She took the first steps on the crosswalk... That was when the scream tore through the air.
A black car ran the red light with a violent roar, too fast for that time of morning, and hit Aurora full on. The sound of the impact was dry, horrible. Her bag flew, the backpack fell to the ground, and she was thrown a few meters before rolling on the asphalt.
Time seemed to bend.
Cael ran. His legs moved before his mind, as if something inside him broke the torpor.
Aurora was lying on her side, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth, scared look trapped in the clouds. Her legs were turned at a strange angle, one hand scratched by the asphalt, the other holding the void.
— I... I can't feel... my legs... — Said she, trembling, eyes watering.
Cael knelt beside her, throwing the bread bag on the ground. He looked around, the car had disappeared, fled like a coward. People began to gather. Murmurs. Screams. Cell phone cameras.
He raised his hand, slowly, and an invisible wave pushed everyone away in a radius of four meters. Not with violence, but with firmness. A soft, telekinetic barrier, drawing a sacred space around the injured young woman.
With the other hand, he took the cell phone from his pocket and called emergency. The attendant's voice was overshadowed by adrenaline. The world seemed like a buzz.
Minutes later, the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics ran to them. Cael stepped back a little, letting them do their work. Aurora was placed on the stretcher with care, the IV hung, the cervical collar fixed.
She still looked at him, even weak. Her blue eyes seemed to beg for something even she didn't know.
And he stood there, motionless, with the bread bag in one hand and her wallet in the other, which had fallen during the accident. The ambulance left with lights flashing and the siren breaking the air.
Cael followed it with his eyes until it disappeared around the corner.
And there, standing on the sidewalk, alone in the middle of the morning, he realized, the city had woken up, yes.
But not in a good mood.