The gloom of the small antique shop enveloped the atmosphere with a dense, timeless air. Amidst shelves crowded with objects forgotten by history and glass cases that seemed to guard secrets of extinct eras, a man with a piercing gaze turned the pages of an aged, leather-bound book.
His face, partially hidden by the brim of a black hat, was hauntingly familiar: he was the same individual who had attended to Biel and Bastián on that distant day when it all began.
The sound of sliding paper filled the silence, accompanied only by the faint creak of the floorboards beneath the weight of his slow steps. Finally, he stopped at a specific page, observing the letters as if they were staring back at him.
"And so the first act ended," he murmured in a low voice, laden with an ancient solemnity. His gloved fingers traced the final paragraphs as he continued: "A story of reckless bravery, of sacrifice, and a destiny that is only beginning to intertwine with the infinite."
His gaze drifted toward the shop door, and his eyes seemed to pierce through the wood, the city, and reality itself, observing the events that had just shaken the fortress.
"The young man gave everything for his friends. He surrendered himself to an ideal he barely understood to protect those he loved. And so... his earthly life came to an end."
The pages of the book began to emit a soft, golden, and melancholic glow, and the man continued narrating, turning ink into reality.
"Biel faced the unthinkable: nightmare creatures, allies with broken pasts, and a power that threatened to devour him. Everything culminated in that final heartbeat, leaving Lady Acalia and the others before a corpse that, for the first time, rested in peace."
But Biel’s death was not the end of the book; it was merely the turning of a page.
While his body lay inert in the physical world, something deeper—something indestructible—was awakening. In the instant his last breath escaped his lips, his essence was ripped from the gravity of the Earth and carried to a place beyond mortal comprehension.
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcZng8e0Bi4
A vast vacuum received him.
It was not the cold darkness of death he had expected. It was an ethereal space where colors danced like living aurora boreales and time seemed to have dissolved. Biel opened his eyes slowly. The first thing he noticed was the absence of pain. The wounds, the exhaustion, the fire in his lungs... everything had vanished.
He found himself standing upon a crystalline surface that stretched to the horizon, perfect and still like the reflection of an infinite lake. Beneath his feet, the "water" reflected a sky that had no sun or moon, only pure light.
"Where... am I?" he whispered. His voice did not lose itself in the wind but resonated in the air with an impossible clarity, like an endless echo.
In the distance, blurred figures began to form amidst the luminous mist. They were indistinct shadows, yet they conveyed no threat, but rather a sense of ancient peace and wisdom. Biel took a hesitant step toward them, but before he could advance, a voice that came from no throat resonated directly in his mind:
"Welcome, Biel. This is the threshold between life and the infinite."
The voice had no origin; it came from everywhere and nowhere. Biel spun around, searching for the owner of those words, but found only the luminous void. However, the sensation of being watched by a thousand invisible eyes was undeniable.
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3zKGi22KV4
Meanwhile, in a distant and dusty reality...
In the antique shop, the man closed the book with a soft but definitive thud, letting out a sigh that contained centuries of nostalgia.
"The story will get much more interesting now," he said, curling his lips into a barely perceptible smile. His clear eyes shone with a glint of forbidden knowledge—the kind of knowing that would drive a mortal mad.
He placed the tome on the shelf, where the old leather camouflaged among other equally mysterious texts, and walked toward the exit. The shop bell tinkled softly as the door opened, letting in a ray of urban light that briefly illuminated his sharp profile.
"Because in the end, every fragment has a price," he mused to no one, before disappearing into the city shadows, leaving behind a silent shop guarding the secrets of fate.
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡqmbAOo7HEG
Back in the void, Biel opened his eyes for the second time.
The weight of confusion clouded his thoughts like a thick fog. The environment remained ethereal: a landscape of fluid colors and infinite skies that seemed to breathe. His own breathing quickened as he tried to anchor his mind to reality.
The last memories of his life struck his consciousness like hammer blows: the sacrifice, the harrowing pain, the screams of his friends, and the final darkness devouring everything. He brought his hands to his chest, searching for the mortal wound, but his fingers only touched intact skin.
"This... this can't be true!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking in the static air. "I was...!"
"You have died, Biel," a deep, calm voice interrupted, cutting through his panic like a sharp blade.
From amidst the mists of light emerged a tall figure, wrapped in a shimmering halo that concealed its features. Its face was indecipherable, a mask of absolute serenity, but its presence emanated an ancient authority. Biel took a step back, feeling his non-existent heart pound with fear.
"No... it's not possible..." he stammered, refusing to accept the sentence. "My friends... Acalia, Xanthe... Are they okay? Where are they?"
The figure nodded gently—a slow, solemn gesture. "Your friends still breathe. In fact, they are attempting to defy the natural order to bring you back to the world of the living. They are fighting against the very laws that govern this plane."
Biel felt a dizzying mix of relief and desperation. They hadn't abandoned him. Even after death, they were still fighting for him.
"But you must know something important," the entity continued, its tone growing more severe. "Their effort will be in vain if the will of this world does not permit it. No mortal magic can steal a soul from this place without permission."
"Whose permission do I need?" Biel asked, urgency burning in his throat. "I must speak with whoever it is! I must ask them to let me return!"
The figure watched him in silence for an eternal instant, evaluating the determination in the boy’s eyes. "The Goddess of Spirits, Yael, queen and sovereign of this plane, resides in the city of Garderan," the figure explained. "It is a mystic place where lost souls and creatures of all natures converge. But I warn you: humans have no place there. This is a realm where your logic does not apply."
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡw3U0m6ALdb
Biel felt a shiver run through his spiritual form. The words confirmed that this was not a dream; it was a test.
"Garderan?" he repeated, testing the weight of the name on his tongue. "What kind of place is it? How do they decide what happens to those of us who end up here?"
The figure tilted its head slightly. "Garderan is not just a city; it is a tribunal. There, the will that governs this plane observes every fragment of your life and decides your final fate: whether you deserve to ascend to the higher realms and find peace... or be dragged into the depths of eternal oblivion."
Biel swallowed hard, absorbing the magnitude of the threat. In this place, his physical strength, his magic, or his sword were worth nothing. Only his soul.
"Who is this judge?" he asked, his voice thick with fear and respect. "Who has the power to decide that?"
The figure smiled softly beneath its halo of light. "Her name is Yael. The Goddess of Spirits. Queen and absolute sovereign of this horizon. Her power is incomprehensible to mortals and her logic is not human, but her judgment is just. If you wish to defy death, you must go to Garderan, stand before her, and prove to her that your existence still holds value."
Biel’s heart pounded. The path was clear, but it was madness. He was going to demand a second chance from a goddess.
"I’ll do it," he said, gathering all the determination he had left. "I will go to Garderan."
The figure before him began to fade, decomposing into flecks of light that drifted toward the infinite sky. Before disappearing completely, its voice resonated one last time in Biel’s mind: "Then walk, lost soul. Find the Goddess before oblivion finds you."
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡrKcFmI02r0
Biel stood motionless for a moment in the vastness, processing the sentence. He clenched his fists. "There's no time to waste," he whispered to himself, visualizing the faces of Acalia and the others. "I won't die here."
With that, he began to walk.
The landscape was of a beauty that defied all logical explanation: fields of luminescent grass swaying without wind, glowing under a sky that looked like a canvas in constant motion. In the distance, mountains that looked like solid crystal reflected the surroundings with iridescent glints.
As he moved forward, his eyes caught something in the distance: a small citadel rising amidst the hills of mist. It didn't have the imposing towers he had imagined for the capital, but its walls emanated a strange, almost magnetic energy.
"That doesn't look like the Great City..." he told himself.
But the decision was instantaneous. If he wanted to find Yael, he needed to understand the rules of this world, and that settlement was his only compass in a sea of uncertainty.
With a renewed energy born of desperation, Biel resumed his course. At the edge of the woods, shadows began to detach themselves from the trunks. Biel stopped dead, feeling a shiver run through his spiritual form.
"Who's there?" he asked, his voice steady, though his hands instinctively searched for a sword he no longer carried.
From the gloom emerged figures that were neither human nor entirely spiritual. One of them, taller than the rest, glided before him. "Traveler... your light is too dense for this place," the creature said. Its voice was not a sound, but a vibration. "You still smell of life and warm blood. This is not your place."
"I seek answers," Biel replied, holding the entity’s gaze. "I need to reach Garderan."
The smoke creature seemed to contract. "The City of Judgment... if you seek your sentence, the citadel before you will give you rest. But if you seek the Goddess, prepare to bleed without a body."
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE4Ibwtcb2T
Biel reached the gates of the small city. Crossing the threshold, a warm, sedating energy enveloped him, inviting him to forget, to rest, to stop fighting. He shook his head violently. No. I am not here to rest.
Inside, spirits of all eras walked or simply existed in loops of memory. Biel approached a group of spirits sitting by a fountain of light. "Excuse me. I don't belong here. I need to know how to get to Garderan."
The spirits looked at him with curiosity and pity. An old man in robes that looked like parchment rose slowly. "Garderan... The Great City is beyond the Crystal Mountains. It is a long journey, boy. The path is designed to break what is left of your spirit before you reach Yael’s throne."
"I don't care," Biel stated. "I must see her."
The old man smiled sadly. "Be careful what you wish for. Yael does not receive the living—or the half-dead—with kindness. She is the balance, and the balance is cold."
Biel bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you for the warning. But I have someone waiting for me on the other side. I am not going to fail."
Without allowing himself another second in that sedating atmosphere, Biel turned and left the small city, fixing his eyes on the imposing mountains cutting the sky on the horizon.
He knew the true hell was starting now. But as he walked toward the immensity, he clenched his fists and whispered a promise to the void: "Wait for me, Acalia. I’m coming back."
44Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡstxXIr17JE
and then Add to home screen.