The obsidian Hummingbird

PROLOGUE Before the cities, there were forests. Before the roads, there were paths. And before men learned to light fires, the night belonged entirely to the stars and the world to the aether; magic had always existed. No one knew who had created it, but neither did they question its existence: waves of energy that were part of every stone, every plant, and every living being, as present as oxygen. Some said it was the breath of the gods. Others claimed it came from the depths of the earth. Scholars, being more cautious, simply called it a natural property of the world. Whatever its origin, for centuries magic belonged to a few determined enough to manipulate this universal energy. Whether through blood and sweat, or a rare talent for feeling this flow of energy around them. For most people, magic was something watched with awe from a distance. Until they found the Aether crystals. The first ones were discovered in the depths of a mine, north of the ancient kingdom of Arken. They were transparent stones of impossible colors. Some emitted heat, others produced light; their abilities to absorb and express the aether were revolutionary. Early researchers took decades to understand them. Then, it took centuries to learn how to use them. But when they did, the world changed. A crystal that stored light could power a lamp all night. A crystal capable of producing heat could keep a house warm through the winter. For a fortunate few, magic stopped being a spectacle and became a tool. And tools change the world. Cities grew. Roads stretched between kingdoms. Ships began to use crystal-powered engines. Great cities raised towers of stone, iron, and glass. The streets were illuminated even after sunset. Messengers began to use communication crystals. This technology, though impressive, did not become universal, as powerful kingdoms could afford to buy large quantities; but for most of the world, it remained cheaper and more practical to continue doing things the traditional way. Over time, a new profession emerged: adventurers. Explorers, hunters, mercenaries, biologists, archaeologists, cartographers, and treasure seekers. People willing to travel to the places where the roads ended. Because magic had advanced civilization, but it had not eliminated the mysteries of the world. In the forests, there still lived creatures that no naturalist had managed to classify. Beneath the mountains slept ruins belonging to vanished civilizations. And in the oldest regions of the continents, there were places where magic obeyed none of the known laws. Nor were all intelligent beings the same. For thousands of years, different races and peoples had coexisted, traded, and fought. There were men and women with siren blood. Peoples with beast-like traits. Elves who lived for centuries. Dwarves who had turned the mountains into massive underground cities. And humans. Many humans. Mixtures between species were not extraordinary either. In some regions, they were completely normal. In others, they sparked curiosity. In a few, fear. But the world had learned, with varying degrees of success, to live with that which was different. At least, that was what the books said. However, there was something not even the books could explain. Something scholars had not yet discovered. Something that had remained hidden for generations. Because even though men had learned to master the crystals... even though they had illuminated their cities... even though they had taken magic to the ends of the earth... there were still secrets belonging to a time before history. And one of them was about to be born. In a small village that did not appear on any important map. In a house next to a blacksmith's forge. Under the care of a blue-eyed woman and a man with hands blackened by coal. The river would rise one night. And amidst the rain, the wind, and the roar of thunder, its waters would carry something from an unknown place. A child. No one knew where he had come from. No one knew who had left him at the mercy of the current. And no one could explain why, that night, such a small creature had survived a storm that others remembered as one of the worst in many years. They found him that morning, and from then on, they called him son. Not because blood united them, but because they had chosen to love him. Without knowing who he was. Without knowing where he had come from. And without imagining that he carried with him one of the oldest secrets in the world.