The Threads of Time

First Season

Chapter 1: Encounter on the Road

The sunset painted the horizon in shades of orange and red. A whisper of wind caressed the treetops in the distance. The camera turned 180 degrees, revealing the sun beginning to peek from the opposite side, breaking the darkness of night. As the view expanded, a deserted road came into view. Along the side of the road walked a man—a beggar accompanied by a large white dog.

The dog, with its white fur and alert gaze, kept pace with its owner in steady strides. The man was tall and sturdy, but his eyes reflected the hard life he had led. He wore worn-out clothes, stained by the passage of time, but his face remained calm, almost impassive, as if nothing he had lived through could surprise him anymore. On his back, a peculiar backpack looked as if it carried more stories than the man himself. The beggar moved forward without hurry. His dog walked ahead and sometimes paused to sniff the air, ever vigilant.

In the distance, a great city rose against the clear blue sky. The city’s lights began to go out as the sun climbed higher, giving way to a new day.

The beggar stops and raises his arm, lifting his thumb.

EXT. ROAD – MORNING

A sports car approaches. Inside is CALIÓP, a woman with a determined presence. She studies the stars and longs to unravel the mysteries of the universe.

Caliop spots the beggar. An inexplicable feeling overtakes her. Her eyes lock onto him, seeming to see beyond his ragged appearance. There’s something in his expression that unsettles her—an eerie stillness that reminds her of the stars she studies so intently. An infinite void… beyond her understanding.

Her hand trembles slightly on the steering wheel, and for a moment, she hesitates. Her mind wrestles with the impulse rising in her body. Finally, as if no longer in control, she presses the brake and pauses before looking again at the beggar.

He doesn’t avert his gaze.

At that moment, the dog, with intelligent eyes, sniffs the car… and pees on the rear wheel, breaking the silence with a subtle sound.

CALIÓP
(firm voice, almost sharp)
Hey—tell your dog not to do that.

The beggar smiles calmly. His eyes glint under the rising sun, as if he understands something she hasn’t grasped yet.

BEGGAR
(deep, steady voice)
Might be too late for that.

The man steps closer to the car. His presence seems to fill the space. His voice triggers a strange sensation in Caliop—something she can’t quite place. For a moment, it feels like everything around her… pauses.

BEGGAR
So… may we come in, miss?

Caliop looks at the door lock, her finger hovering over the control, hesitating for a second longer. Something inside her says not to—but she presses it anyway, almost without thinking.

The beggar opens the back door with ease. His dog, a white Swiss shepherd, takes a few quiet steps inside and settles into the back seat.

he beggar slides into the passenger seat, adjusting his peculiar leather backpack between his legs. His gaze follows the road ahead with a disconcerting serenity.

CALIOP
(watching the scene through the rearview mirror, slightly puzzled)
(starts driving slowly)

The city begins to take shape before them—towering buildings, life buzzing all around.

The beggar remains silent. The only sounds are the soft hum of the engine and the faint whisper of the wind.

CALIOP
(breaking the silence, a bit uneasy)
My name’s Caliop. What’s yours? We’re almost there—do you want me to drop you off around here?

The beggar glances at his dog, who lifts his head to meet his eyes. A subtle nod.

The beggar smiles calmly, his white, perfect teeth at odds with his worn appearance.

BEGGAR
(soft but steady voice)
If you could drive a little further… we’d appreciate it.

CALIOP
(somewhat surprised, but keeping her tone steady)
It’s not very polite not telling me your name, don’t you think? And… what’s your dog’s name? What brings you to the city? Family, business… a soup kitchen?

The beggar doesn’t answer right away. The white shepherd stays alert, watchful.

Suddenly, the sports car starts making strange noises and smoke begins to rise from the engine.

CALIOP
(muttering in frustration)
You’ve got to be kidding me…

They’re on a moderately busy street, but luckily she manages to pull into a tight parking spot.

BEGGAR
(looking around, in a calm, reassuring tone)
We’ve arrived.

CALIOP
(jumping out of the car, cursing under her breath)
Unbelievable...

She heads toward the hood of the car. The beggar and his dog also step out.

CALIOP
(grudgingly, inspecting the steaming engine, hoping for a mechanical miracle)
You wouldn’t happen to know about engines… would you?

She glances around for help, but only sees the dog beside her. Then, looking again, she realizes the beggar is already at a distance, sitting calmly in front of what looks like an old music store.
He’s relaxed, watching.

CALIOP
(almost whispering)
Seriously? You're not going to say anything?

She pulls out her phone and starts to dial, but at that moment, the dog gently nudges her leg with his snout.

CALIOP
(sighing)
Really?

She walks over to the beggar, frustrated—but something inside her says this isn’t just a coincidence.

CALIOP
(with ironic tone)
Did you forget your dog?

CALIOP
(slightly sarcastic)
You're not much of a talker, huh? You won’t tell me your name, you don’t apologize when your dog pees on my car, and you don’t even say thank you... You don’t—

Suddenly, an old man—about 90 years old, disheveled, with crooked glasses and a sour expression—steps out of the music store.

YAGO (shouting, furious)
No, no, no! Absolutely not! Tell your friend to park his backside somewhere else—unless he wants me to call the police!

As the old man keeps yelling, Caliop lifts her gaze to the sky, clearly exhausted by the situation.

CALIOP (with a sigh, looking up)
This day just keeps getting better...

The camera lingers on Caliop’s face, capturing the mix of frustration and confusion.

EXT. STREET – IN FRONT OF THE MUSIC STORE – DAY

Caliop stands face to face with Yago, arms akimbo, clearly fed up.

CALIOP (very firmly)
Listen, I’m not going to let you speak to me like that. In fact, you should calm down—for your own good. I don’t think—

YAGO (grumbling, defiant)
My own good? You’d better get your friend out of here before I kick you both out myself, or worse...

CALIOP (incredibly calm, but with restrained anger)
First of all, what makes you think that—

Suddenly, the shop bell rings as the door swings open. Both turn toward the sound.

INT. MUSIC STORE –

The beggar walks in with his dog, who wags its tail happily. Both stroll deeper into the shop as the dog glances cheerfully at Yago.

YAGO (shouting, cursing as he walks away)
Damned bastard!

Yago storms further into the store, leaving Caliop standing outside, bewildered. She takes a few steps toward her car, but then stops. She looks back at the store. Another step toward the car.

CALIOP (muttering, annoyed)
Shit.

Without thinking, she heads into the shop.

INT. MUSIC STORE – CONTINUOUS

The store has a rustic charm—wood and exposed brick, with large metal beams giving it character. Vinyl records are stacked everywhere, and sunlight filters softly through stained-glass skylights. The atmosphere is warm, slightly outdated, but welcoming.

WIDE SHOT – INSIDE THE STORE

Caliop takes in the place, clearly impressed by the atmosphere, though her focus is on what’s unfolding.

CALIOP (muttering)
This is not the day I had in mind...

She spots the old man, in slippers, trying to shoo the dog away with one of them. The dog blocks the entrance to the aisle leading to the counter. Far from being intimidated, the dog seems to think it’s a game.

YAGO (shouting, angry)
Outta the way, you damn mutt! Or I’ll knock your teeth out!

The dog wags its tail playfully, unbothered.

The beggar moves calmly through the store, casually inspecting a few records, as if in his own world, unhurried.

CALIOP (watching from the entrance, slightly amused)
(smiles)

Suddenly, the dog jumps with a burst of energy and snatches Yago’s slipper. It dashes through the aisles, its tail bumping into instruments and making them produce random musical sounds.

YAGO (cursing, chasing the dog, knocking things over)
Damn dog!

VIEW OF THE COUNTER

The beggar reaches the counter and sets down his backpack. As he opens it, the metallic sound of a circular clasp—reminiscent of a Celtic triskelion—echoes through the store, momentarily silencing the earlier commotion.

The dog pauses briefly, giving Yago the chance to try to retrieve his slipper. The beggar gestures to his dog, who obediently drops the slipper and backs off.

YAGO (putting on the chewed-up slipper, furious; approaching the beggar, pointing a finger)
What the hell are you doing here, you damn...?

But the beggar, unfazed, pulls a vinyl record from his backpack. On the cover, a constellation of stars glows with an enigmatic shimmer.

YAGO (suddenly calm, surprised; whispering)
What is this...?

Yago lowers his arm, straightens up, and seems to calm down all at once.
He takes a step toward the beggar, now silent.

Caliop, still standing at the entrance, watches with growing curiosity. She steps a little closer, wanting to see more clearly. The vinyl cover mesmerizes her.

CALIOP (whispering to herself)
That... that is...

VIEW OF THE BEGGAR
The beggar takes something else out of his backpack: an old parchment. He places it on the counter and walks around it, slipping past the curtain into a small room behind the counter—Yago’s improvised pantry and kitchenette.

CALIOP (with an ironic smile, to herself)
Well... at this point, I don’t even know what to expect.

INT. YAGO’S BACK ROOM – DAY

The beggar, calm as ever, begins preparing something in the pantry, completely ignoring Yago—who no longer seems bothered by his presence.

The old man, holding the vinyl, turns to Caliop.

YAGO
Miss, would you be so kind as to hold this for a moment?

Caliop, entranced, takes the vinyl and examines the constellation-covered sleeve closely.

Yago disappears into the back aisles, rattling pots and pans as he searches for something.

The beggar emerges from the small room with two plates of food. He sets one down for Dagmar, his dog, and settles into Yago’s oversized armchair, his frame sinking deep into it.
He begins to eat, watching Caliop.

Caliop’s phone rings.
Without even looking at the caller ID, she hangs up and slips it back into her pocket.

CALIOP (to the beggar)
This doesn’t make sense… It looks like it, but… it can’t be.

Yago returns with an old gramophone. He sets it on the counter and extends his hand toward Caliop.

YAGO
My name is Yago. A pleasure, miss.

Caliop, surprised, takes his hand and shakes it.

CALIOP
Caliop.

YAGO
The pleasure is mine.

MENDIGO
Yago, where do you keep the black pepper?

Yago, as he prepares the gramophone, points toward the small back room.

YAGO
Second shelf, behind the bag of dates, next to the oregano.

Caliop, amused, can’t help but smile at how natural and familiar their interaction seems.

YAGO
Would you hand me the vinyl, please?

Yago, visibly nervous, carefully removes the vinyl from its sleeve and sets the sleeve down beside the parchment on the counter.
With trembling hands, he places the record on the gramophone—its body adorned with mother-of-pearl inlays, oak casing, and a golden crank.

Very slowly, Yago places the vinyl on the turntable, winds the crank, and looks at Caliop.

YAGO
Here we go.

He gently lowers the tonearm onto the record. The silence is broken by the subtle scratch of the needle beginning its journey...

The light in the room dims, as if being absorbed through the stained-glass skylights above. The shop seems to tremble slightly, and Caliop takes a step back.

From the gramophone, a voice emerges—first in an unknown language, then shifting, adapting... until it becomes fully intelligible:

AMAN (ethereal, enveloping voice)
Welcome, travelers...
I have awaited this moment since time immemorial.
Each of you plays a vital role in the fragile balance of this reality.
Nothing is written yet, and fate hangs by a thread.
You may succeed in your mission… or fail, as dark forces will try to lead you astray.

(A brief pause. The voice seems to smile with a hint of irony.)

AMAN
But do not fear… you will not be alone.
I, Aman, will offer you clues along your journey—
a path strewn with riddles, encounters, and dangers.
And your first challenge lies ahead.

(The voice grows more intense, whispering and mysterious.)

AMAN
This scroll… holds ancient secrets.
But its language can only be deciphered by an old troll,
a wise being who has lived in this world since its birth.
He hides in a remote corner, far from the rest…
Find him.
Convince him.
And perhaps—only perhaps—the path will reveal itself.

(The voice grows softer, almost like an echo.)

AMAN
I will be watching… always near… always aware.
The choice… is yours.

(The gramophone slows to a stop, leaving Caliop, Yago, and the wanderer in a silence thick with meaning and anticipation.)

Daylight once again pours through the stained-glass windows overhead, flooding the room with its glow.
The hum of the city vibrates through the walls—a reminder that, beyond this sanctuary, life continues its course.

Caliop stands still, transfixed, as if the words from the gramophone still echo in her mind.
Her face reflects a mix of disbelief and wonder,
as her fingers reach for the scroll on the counter, brushing its edges gently, as if afraid to tear its fragile existence.
The city's noise fades into the background, a distant murmur dissolving in the stillness of the shop.

Yago, a satisfied smile spreading across his face, gently lifts the vinyl from the gramophone with reverent care. His expression carries an almost childlike gleam of joy as he carefully slides it back into its sleeve, as if handling a precious treasure.

The wanderer rises slowly, his heavy backpack swaying on his shoulders. He leans down to pet his dog, Dagmar, who remains still as a statue, eyes fixed attentively on his every move. Then, almost automatically, he gathers the vinyl and the scroll, tucking them back into his backpack. Crossing his arms, he watches Caliop and Yago with a gaze that hovers between curiosity and distance.

From across the room, Dagmar lets out a low growl—soft, but sharp enough to suggest he senses something.

Yago walks toward the shop’s entrance with slow, deliberate steps. With a motion that feels almost ceremonial, he turns the key and locks the door.
The click of the lock echoes through the room—like a final sentence cast upon the world outside.

YAGO (in a deep, almost dreamlike voice)
I've spent my whole life searching for this record. I've dreamed of it since I was a child. I knew I wasn’t crazy… I knew it was real.

Yago turns to Caliop, his eyes shining with a rare intensity. He moves toward the counter and settles into his armchair, as if the weight of his entire life had led him to this moment.

YAGO (distant, as if remembering)
In my dreams, that very same voice…