24.- The name of light

Sunlight streamed through a high crack in the main chamber's ceiling, filtering through the vines that climbed the walls and painting the grass floor with golden patches. The air was filled with a sweet scent –wildflowers, damp earth, a touch of moss– so inviting it felt like a dream after the dark days of the dungeon. Sebastian awoke on his moss bed, a smile curving his lips. He felt rested, lighter than usual, as if the previous day's forest had left a peace within him.

He turned his head and saw her: the young woman slept peacefully in a nest of leaves and moss she had shaped herself, her green hair spread like a river of seaweed on the grass. Her small horns gleamed with a soft radiance in the sunlight, and her face, relaxed in sleep, held a quiet, wild beauty. She was a mix of strength and delicacy, and he couldn't help but watch her a little longer before getting up.

Careful not to make a sound, he left the main chamber, stretching his legs as he walked through the corridors. After exploring the fourth floor the night before, they had returned here to rest, and now he saw how the young woman's changes continued to grow. The walls were covered in vines and spongy moss, the floor a green carpet dotted with flowers –violets, yellows, whites–. It was as if the dungeon were breathing life, reflecting something of herself. "She has a gift," he thought, smiling. "She brings beauty out of where there should be none."

He returned to the chamber and lit a small fire in a corner, using dry branches he had gathered. He put a pot of water to heat and checked his backpack, taking out the juniper berries from the forest. As he crushed a few with a stone, the fresh, tart aroma filled the air, mingling with the smoke. "You'll like this," he murmured to himself, preparing an infusion with a special touch.

The smell awakened the young woman. She opened her eyes slowly, stretching like a cat before getting up and approaching him. Her steps were silent on the grass, and she watched him curiously as he stirred the pot. He offered her a wooden cup with the hot infusion. "Good morning," he said softly.

She took the cup, smelling the steam before taking a sip. Her eyes lit up, and a smile spread across her face –silent but clear–. Sebastian laughed. "Good, huh?" She nodded, drinking more, and he sat opposite her, crossing his legs on the grass.

As he watched her enjoy it, something crossed his mind. "Hey…" he said, leaning in a little, "what's your name?" She looked at him, tilting her head in confusion, the cup still in her hands. He smiled, pointing to himself. "I'm Sebastian. We all have a name –something that makes us unique–. Do you have one?"

She frowned, her fingers drumming on the cup. She didn't seem to quite understand –she was, simply, her– but her eyes searched his, as if trying to decipher him. He laughed softly, resting his chin on his hand. "I think I'll call you… Aurora," he said, the word coming out with a natural warmth. "It's like the aurora borealis –lights and colors that shine in the darkness–. Like you."

She repeated the sound in her mind –Aurora–. It was soft, bright, like the flowers she grew, like the warmth of the orb. She liked it. A lot. She looked at Sebastian and nodded quickly, a smile growing on her face. "Do you like it?" he asked, and she nodded again, harder, almost jumping with joy.

"Aurora," he repeated, laughing. "So, that's you now." She –no, Aurora– put down the cup and moved closer, sitting nearer to him, her fingers brushing his hand as if sealing the moment. Something in her seemed to change, a new spark in her eyes, as if the name gave her another piece of herself.

After breakfast, Aurora jumped up, pulling his hand eagerly. She wanted to show him something –she always did– and he followed without hesitation, trusting her energy. They left the main chamber, venturing into the transformed corridors. "What do you have today?" he asked, amused, as she led him towards a corner they hadn't explored.

The corridor opened into a new, smaller room, where luminous mushrooms glowed on the walls and thick roots hung from the ceiling. On one side, a small creature –a lizard with green scales and tiny wings– scurried among the flowers she had grown. Aurora pointed to the lizard proudly, and he crouched down to see it better. "Did you make this?" he said, impressed. The lizard looked at him, blinking, and clumsily flew to land on his shoulder.

She smiled, nodding, and he laughed, stroking the lizard with a finger. "You're amazing, Aurora. This place… us… you're doing incredible." She moved closer, resting a hand on his arm, and together they explored further, discovering the changes she had woven into the dungeon –niches with shining gems, grass paths, small living corners–. With each step, the dungeon felt less like a mystery and more like a home, and with Aurora by his side, Sebastian knew they were ready for whatever came next –whatever it was.