"Aaaafr," I yawned, the sound dissolving into the soft melody of the parrios, the winged creatures of Áurea that flew in distant circles, their wings shimmering under the multiple lights of the sky. The welcoming warmth of the third sun, Nadir, seeped through the wooden tent, bathing the space in a soft reddish hue, while I could still feel the chill of the mountain air from the night, as if wrapped in a cold yet gentle embrace.

Lying on my simple mattress beside my parents' bed, I stared at the wooden and fabric ceiling. The silence was unusual. It was rare for the house to be so quiet, without the usual sounds of my sister chattering or my parents’ low conversations. The contrast felt almost strange. Had they already started their day? Did I oversleep? A lazy sigh escaped me as I rubbed my eyes.

"Ah... of course," I murmured, feeling a slight wave of guilt for waking up late, but also embracing the momentary laziness. The empty bed felt more like an invitation to go back to sleep, but Nadir's rays made that impossible.

I got up slowly, each movement causing small pops from my bones and joints. “Growing shouldn’t hurt this much,” I thought, swinging my arms as if to shake off the stiffness. From the corner of the room, my brown boots lay haphazardly, tossed aside the previous night. I slipped them on, feeling the leather wrap snugly around my feet. Then, I donned my usual outfit: a gray linen shirt and sturdy trousers.

Taking a step forward, I paused in front of the old mirror in the corner of the tent. The cracked surface reflected a slightly distorted version of myself, but enough to see the details. My blue eyes, inherited from my mother, gleamed brightly under the light spilling into the tent, while my hair, as blonde as wheat, stubbornly refused to behave, with strands sticking out in random directions. I combed it with my fingers, without much success.

I stepped outside into the world. The morning air was alive with sounds and smells. The scent of earth and freshly cut wood mingled with the sweet aroma of fruits that the Néfos carried in baskets on their backs. Their blue skin, with shimmering black stripes, danced under the first rays of the day. There was a vibrant energy in every movement they made, a spontaneous choreography that made life in the village seem more... alive.

I watched them for a moment, feeling a twinge of envy at the agility with which they worked. The Néfos were small, but fast and full of life. A group of young Néfos played around a giant tree, their laughter ringing out like sharp bells as they ran in circles, their tails swaying.

I headed towards the central square, where daily life bustled. The smell of fresh bread hit my nostrils before I even reached Nara's restaurant. My stomach growled, demanding attention, and I quickened my pace.

When I entered the bakery, the warmth of the oven and the sweet scent of mineral spices in the air wrapped around me like a hug. Nara, her face lit up with a smile, greeted me with open arms. "Good morning, Kiel! Did you sleep well?"

"Good morning, Miss Nara. I slept well, though I woke up a little late," I replied, grabbing a warm loaf of bread from her hands. “I guess sleeping in a little isn’t too bad, right?” I joked.

“You’ve got many years ahead to worry about time,” she laughed, “Enjoy it while you can.”

I thanked her and sat near the window, where I could watch the village in motion. As I bit into the soft, sweet bread, a wave of gratitude washed over me. The contrast between the softness of the food and the wild, chaotic lives that haunted my dreams was almost surreal. It was nice, for once, to feel like someone important and relaxed, with no need for effort.

And then, as if to shatter my momentary peace, Nunu, the tallest, most muscular Néfo in the village, burst in like a storm. "Nunu greets you, Kiel! You like my mother’s food?" he asked, his voice full of enthusiasm and youthful pride.

I looked at him with a smile, admiring how large he was — especially for a Néfo. I'm already as tall as most of them, but Nunu is twice the size of a normal Néfo. “Yes, I do, Nunu. Your mother is an excellent cook.”

He grinned even wider, his eyes gleaming. “I like you, Kiel. You are a good friend and speak very well.” And with that, he left as quickly as he had arrived.

Back to my thoughts, I took another bite of the bread. Áurea, with its four suns, always fascinated me. The world followed its own rhythm, and the local calendar, with its months divided by the stars Zenit, Alvora, Nadir, and Poente, always seemed... perfectly organized to me. The cycle of the seasons, synchronized with the celestial dance of these suns, governed life with precision. Each year had exactly 360 days, and each season lasted 90 days — simple, yet almost poetic. For instance, the year starts on Zenit, day 1 of Zenit, and ends on the 90th day of Zenit. Then we have Alvora, also lasting 90 days. After that comes Nadir, the winter, which also lasts 90 days. And at the end of the year, there’s Poente, with 90 days.

I took three more bites.

The Áurea calendar works like this: 1/Zen/xx/xxxx. Today is 3/Nad/58/3033. Áurea, in its path through the solar system, naturally transitions from star to star throughout the year, as if navigating between cosmic lighthouses, its mysterious trajectory leaving scientists and scholars perplexed for generations.

I finished the last piece of the sweet bread, the flavor slowly melting in my mouth.

"Bye, Nara! I’m going to look for my parents!" I shouted, with more enthusiasm than I actually felt, getting up from my chair.

The bakery was saturated with the smell of caramelized sugar and freshly baked bread. I waved one last time to Nara, who watched me with her large, attentive eyes. As I stepped outside, Nadir's sun enveloped me, warming my skin like a blanket of living energy. The heat was familiar, comforting, as if the stars of Áurea never stopped watching and nourishing life below their rays.

The village was waking up, the sounds of conversations and laughter mingling in the air, a dissonant cacophony, yet somehow nostalgic. The dirt roads seemed busier now, with Néfos in their daily routines. I saw Nira and Nolo, two young Néfo siblings, pushing wooden carts full of blue-toned fruits, their skins gleaming under Nadir’s light.

I passed Nilo, an older Néfo, who was hammering away at a worn-out cabin. He waved to me with his calloused hand, and, as always, I waved back, pretending a friendliness I barely felt. I’ve been trying to connect with them more. Gaining some social points has been my goal — after all, they’ve surely noticed how I, little Kiel, have been becoming more ‘open’ in recent months. It’s forced, but it’s my attempt at building empathy.

I kept walking, feeling the air thick with the fresh scent of conifers. Each breath seemed to bring more life, but also a growing sense of unease that I couldn’t quite place.

I reached the central square. People were coming and going with purpose. I greeted a few familiar faces as they passed by.

My eyes wandered to the horizon. At the edge of the village, I saw two unmistakable figures in the distance. My parents, Aidan and Ari, stood atop a hill, at a pagoda where the Néfos held their festivals.

The tree... I glanced at the spot where I used to sit. Where no one else would go. That place used to be my refuge, where I watched the great tower in the distance, its silhouette imposing over the landscape. But now, no one sat there anymore — I was the only one who ever did.

Suddenly, a Néfo passed by me, pulling me out of my thoughts. He waved cheerfully, and I waved back mechanically.

But something made me stop. The air around me felt suddenly heavier, as if an invisible presence was watching me. My heart began to race, for no apparent reason. I turned to look, and that’s when I saw her.

An old, frail woman, bent over, was trying to push a log under the tree where I used to sit. She was small, her movements slow and hesitant. "How did she go unnoticed by me?" I thought automatically. I watched, unsure whether I should help her or not. Something in her eyes caught my attention: they were golden. They shone with an almost supernatural intensity, like the sun of Alvora.

A shiver ran down my spine. Néfos didn’t have golden eyes.

The old woman lifted her gaze and saw me, and in that moment, I felt as if she was seeing every secret, every flaw, every hidden doubt within me.

"Young one, help me," her voice sounded. "I want to sit comfortably in this spot."

I hesitated. There was something in her voice that made me feel small, insignificant. But my rational mind took control. "Sorry, ma’am. I’m in a hurry. I need to see my parents." I responded, trying to walk away. But she didn’t move, and instead, she stepped toward me slowly.

I turned to leave,

 but felt a strange weight holding me back. I looked down, and the old woman’s hand was on my arm, gripping it firmly, but not aggressively. When our eyes met again, I felt as though I was being laid bare, my deepest fears exposed.

"You are, in the end, a shadow," she said, her voice like distant thunder. "Your vision is clouded by selfish ambition. Ruin awaits those who lose themselves to pride. Your worth lies not in status or superficial recognition, but in the true essence of who you are. Don’t let your soul rot like a fruit that never ripens. Your choice has disappointed me."

Each word cut deep, like sharp blades slicing through layers of my identity. I wanted to scream, but my voice was lost in my throat. My body was paralyzed under the weight of her words, my heart pounding wildly.

“Kiel? What are you doing?” Nelco’s voice sliced through the air like a blade, pulling me back to reality. He was standing there, looking at me with a curious expression.

“I... I was talking to the lady..." I looked around, searching for the old woman, but she had vanished. There was no one there, only me and Nelco.

“What lady? You were pushing this log by yourself." Nelco’s voice was full of skepticism, and he shook his head. "You must be daydreaming, kid. Maybe that long hair of yours is messing with your brain." He laughed, before walking off.

I stood there, still trying to process what had happened.