Aidam insisted, "So, how did you manage to do that magic?"

I took a deep breath, knowing I could no longer avoid the question. "It was an accident," I began, looking at my hands still marked by burns. "I was trying to create a light show for Evelyn, but something went wrong. I used a mix of chemicals I had gotten, and... things got out of control."

Aidam shook his head, clearly impressed. "You really have talent, Kiel. Learning to use magic so early is something few kids manage to do. But you need to be more careful. Magic isn’t something for children. It’s complicated... How did you even pull it off? Do you understand chemical balance or how matter reacts?”

"I just thought about making the primordial energy power the reagents; they did the rest," I admitted, looking directly at Aidam. "I can't explain it, but it feels like I can sense it, manipulate it in a way that... seems natural to me."

Aidam frowned, thoughtful. "That’s interesting, Kiel. The truth is, your mother explained how magic really works in a very simplified way. And… apparently, that mixture you used made it happen naturally."

I nodded, grasping the situation. "So how does it work then? Did I do it wrong?"

Aidam smiled, relaxing a bit. "This stays between us, but your mother doesn’t seem to like the idea of magic being taught to you, and I don’t know why."

"I’ve noticed that," I replied.

Aidam smiled calmly and explained, "The thing is... ‘magic’ isn’t quite like the stories tell. In reality, it’s more like a special kind of energy that exists in everything around us, like the wind or sunlight. It’s not mystical; it’s real. Over time, living beings, like us, learned to use this energy. And to do so, our bodies developed special parts, like the Arcane Encephalon."

He paused to see if I was following.

"That name sounds complicated, but the Arcane Encephalon is like a magical brain inside our heads. It helps us remember what we’ve learned about the world and use that energy to do incredible things, like move objects or create light with a thought. It’s like a key that unlocks all the possibilities we already know."

Aidam took a deep breath before continuing, "You see, every living being has a different moment when their 'magic' becomes usable. But over time, fewer people use real magic. Still, some are so dedicated to it that not even weapons can stop them easily. And that’s where the Stars of Gowve come in. You can feel a mage’s strength with your senses! Every mage has an aura—it’s like an invisible light that comes from them, powered by the Arcane Encephalon."

Noticing that I was starting to lose focus, he leaned towards me, smiling excitedly.

"Let me finish quickly. Did you know it’s possible for a blind person to 'see' without their vision, thanks to this system? Close your eyes. When you do that, your body shifts to another level of perception, replacing sight. You begin to see the primordial energy, manifested as auras, in a dark world. The primordial energy is more concentrated near matter, like this table. That’s what we call the Stars of Gowve. The more concentrated the primordial energy, the more intense and colorful the aura or light that comes from it, but it’s not an ordinary light... it’s another kind of light."

Again, he paused, making sure I was keeping up before continuing.

"There are seven visible spectrums of aura, known both by our sixth sense and science, along with a speculative eighth: black, red, orange, yellow, beige, white, blue, and finally, purple. The more concentrated the primordial energy, and the more powerful the mage, the closer the aura gets to blue. You still can’t see my aura or your mother’s because your sensitivity isn’t developed enough."

"Dad, that’s a lot to absorb all at once," I responded, feeling overwhelmed by the flood of information he had just unloaded.

"Yeah, I think I got a little carried away," he said, laughing.

I let out a sigh, tilting my chair back at a 45-degree angle, trying to relax to the sound of the soft instruments playing around the party. But in my mind, a whirlwind of thoughts was forming.

I found myself lost in thoughts about the new universe that had just opened up before me. A different world, full of unsolved mysteries: colossal structures, perhaps built by an ancient civilization long lost to the sands of time; a sky that didn’t hold stars like the ones I knew but instead housed a nebula, a veil of glowing gases hiding unimaginable secrets.

The cosmos above me revealed itself in all its grandeur.

A shiver ran through my body, not from cold but from pure excitement, an indescribable thrill.

The mountain's chill penetrated every fiber of my being, but I welcomed it as a reminder that I was alive, truly alive, in a world full of unknown wonders.

This was the essence of being conscious—the burning desire to know, to understand, to explore! There was nothing more powerful than this insatiable will to uncover the universe's secrets, to expand the horizons of knowledge.

And at that moment, gazing at the cosmos, I felt a deep estrangement with everything around me, as if I were part of something much larger, entirely different. My soul burned with the passion to discover, to live, to experience every nuance of this mysterious world.

"Dude, you’re going to fall off your chair," Evelyn’s voice cut through the air, abruptly pulling me back to reality. And, as if her words were an inevitable prophecy, the moment I turned to look at her, I lost my balance and fell backward, feeling the cold ground meet me with a harsh thud.

"Ouch," I groaned with the impact, "I’m fine."

As I lay there on the grass, still feeling the effects of the fall, I realized that this simple stumble, in the midst of all the grandeur I had just witnessed in my mind, was a reminder that no matter how vast the universe was, I was still just a fragile kid.

But at the same time, I felt a certainty growing inside me: I was ready to unravel every mystery, every secret!

"Get up already, what’s got you so excited?" Eve asked.

"I was just thinking of some exciting things, nothing much," I replied, standing up particularly cheerful.

Still recovering from the fall, I heard my mother’s light steps approaching. She carried a wooden tray. Evelyn was by her side, a mischievous smile on her lips as she held a jug of fresh fruit juice. Night had fully fallen, and the party around us was growing more lively.

"Get up, Kiel, and come sit at the table," my mother ordered, her voice filled with firm authority. She placed the tray on the table, revealing a roasted bird, golden and succulent, exuding an aroma that made my mouth water instantly.

"And stop leaning like that in your chair, or you’ll hurt yourself for real... The kind of son I’m raising, totally delinquent; this is all your fault, Aidam," she complained and joked at the same time, looking at me with that worried expression only perceptive mothers have.

"Hey, I’m a good father!" he said, looking at my mother, who didn’t have a welcoming expression, seemingly stressed about something beyond this party and my dangerous spectacle.

It had never been like this in my previous lives, always left to my own devices—if not literally devoured by them, the more selfish mothers, of course... haha...

Thinking about it, I prefer this.

"Sorry, Mom," I said, getting up from the ground with an awkward smile. "I promise to be more careful."

Evelyn laughed, placing the jug on the table and pulling out a chair to sit beside me. "I want to see you keep that promise, Kiel. You always break them, remember when you said you’d go with me to the spring and then pretended you didn’t remember?"

"Stop, that’s a lie. I do everything for you, ungrateful," I replied.

We all settled around the table, with the floating lamps softly illuminating our faces. The bird meat was served, and my eyes gleamed at the piece my mother placed on my plate. The meat's juiciness, combined with the aromatic spices, made every bite feel like an explosion of flavors in my mouth. I savored it slowly, closing my eyes with each bite, letting the taste spread, bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity.

"Don’t just eat the meat, or you’ll miss out on important nutrients," my mother said as she cut a piece for Evelyn.

"Ah, but the leaves and fruits don’t interest me... fine," I replied.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press the issue. "Okay, but remember, the meat isn’t all yours."

"I know, Mom," I said, in a soft tone.

The conversation flowed naturally between us. We talked about the year that was ending, recalling funny moments and problems we had overcome.

As we ate, I looked around, appreciating the atmosphere. The plateau was a magical place at night, with the gases playing the role of stars in the sky and illuminating everything.

...

Quite some time had passed when we all finished eating, and people began to gather for the New Year’s celebration. The tradition was to release lanterns into the sky, each carrying a wish or promise for the new cycle. I, Evelyn, and my mother joined the group, picking up our lanterns.

The lanterns were made of translucent paper, each decorated with symbols and colorful patterns. When lit, they glowed from the inside out, shining like small stars.

Nina, Nene, Nelco, Nene’s mother, the lady from the bakery... many Néfos, all positioned with their lanterns scattered around.

As I prepared my lantern, I gazed at the sky, where the nebula above us seemed to pulse with life, its vibrant greens and blues moving like clouds, though almost still.

"Let’s make our wishes," my mother said.

Focusing on watching my mother’s face while everyone else—Aidam, my sister, and everyone around—had their eyes closed, following the tradition of this world.

What I saw moved me—I saw her cry for the first time.

Seeing my mother cry, I felt my heart tighten in a way I had never experienced before. That strong woman, always so firm and unshakable, now revealed a vulnerability I had never imagined. The silent tears that rolled down her face, illuminated by the lantern's soft light, told a story I didn’t fully know but somehow echoed deep within her soul.

She was lost in thought, in introspection. It was as if, at that moment, time had stopped for her, and all that remained was the pain and memory of something I couldn’t touch. Aidam, beside her, had his eyes closed, unaware of what I was witnessing. Evelyn also had her eyes closed, focused on her wish, innocent and unaware of the storm of emotions our mother was facing.

She took a deep breath, trying to stifle the sob that threatened to escape. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the lantern, as if she were struggling to keep control. I didn’t know what to do—whether to hug her or simply pretend I hadn’t seen—but something inside me stopped me from breaking that moment. It was as if she needed to live through it alone, without witnesses, without anyone to offer comfort.

Just like my own pain, hidden and impenetrable to others—the silent death of parts of me, the relentless agony of reality, the crumbling of my sanity—these are examples of burdens that only those who have lived through them can truly understand. They are solitary pains, deep wounds we carry alone, facing them in the silence of our souls, where no external comfort can reach.

Then, she whispered, almost inaudible, but I caught it: "For all that I’ve lost... and for all that I’ve gained."

It was a lament, a prayer, an acceptance. Her words carried a weight I couldn’t fully understand but that touched me deeply. And there, under the vastness of that sky, I realized that my mother wasn’t just the strong figure I had thought. She was a woman who had fought, suffered, lost, and yet continued moving forward.

Suddenly, she looked at me. Our eyes met, and for a moment, I saw something change in her expression. She smiled, a melancholic smile but filled with love. A smile that seemed to say it was all right, that she was ready to let the past go and embrace the present again, with all its challenges and joys.

My mother then released the lantern, letting it float slowly into the sky, carrying with it the wishes she had made, the burdens she had carried, and the hopes she now embraced. Aidam and Evelyn followed suit, releasing their lanterns as well, and soon the sky was filled with small points of light, gently drifting toward the cosmos.

When it was my turn, realizing they were looking at me—yes, I had forgotten to release mine—I held onto my lantern for a moment longer, reflecting on what I had just witnessed. I closed my eyes and made my wish, even though it might be futile and not come true through this act. It didn’t hurt to express my will by releasing the item: "May this not expire," I whispered, referring to this state of life.

The wind began to blow softly, making the lanterns sway as they rose. The nebula above us seemed to respond, its colors contrasting with the lanterns' orange glow, creating a breathtaking sight.

The sky was filled with light, and the world seemed at peace.

And as the lanterns continued to rise, carrying our wishes into infinity, I felt a wave of gratitude for the Entity that had placed me here.

I was no longer alone.

They slowly floated upward, merging with the others. I stayed there, watching until my lantern blended in with the rest, becoming part of a swarm of candles.

"Happy New Year, Kiel," whispered my mother, wrapping her arm around my shoulders and pulling me into a tight embrace.

"Happy New Year, Mom," I responded, not too emotional but content.

As the lanterns’ lights drifted away, illuminating the night sky, I noticed several others joining in from all around, from different sides, from other communities and towns.