A deep regret

Sierra Gorda, Querétaro, Mexico -

While deep within the alpine bunker, Isabel and Ricardo found grim satisfaction in their sacrifice, thousands of miles away, in the mystical heart of Mexico, the Sierra Gorda of Querétaro awoke beneath a sky still studded with stars. Here, in a hidden fold of time and space, concealed by dense vegetation and ancient Mayan and Toltec incantations, a section of rocky slope glowed with an inner light and then slid aside, revealing a dark entrance.

The White Brotherhood lived on. Within this secret sanctuary, arcane teachings on universal energy manipulation, spiritual healing, and communion with the forces of nature continued to be imparted to a small but devoted circle of initiates, largely oblivious to the unfolding cataclysm in the outside world.

But what Isabel and Richard, in their distant cell, didn't know—the painful irony of their brave and chaotic distraction—was that those they had protected so fervently, those for whom they had offered their freedom believing they were safeguarding the head of the Lodge, were not the ancient and primordial Masters they revered in their memories.

Those who had managed to escape the relentless pursuit of the Consortium and the Thirteen Families thanks to the sacrifice of their loyal guardians were, in fact, a much younger couple, figures of a crucial lineage within the Brotherhood, but not its supreme leaders. They were Seraphina and Raphael.

Their faces, though now in the ripe old age of their forties, bore the indelible marks of nearly two decades of constant flight, of loss, and of a longing that never left them. Seraphina's hair, once a fiery red like her daughter's, was now streaked with premature silver, and her emerald green eyes, reflecting the same light that now shone in Aria, held profound wisdom and infinite sadness. Rafael, at her side, maintained a calm strength, but the tension around his eyes and mouth spoke of years of vigilance and suppressed pain.

Their story was one of love tested by the darkest forces in the world, and of a separation that had torn at their souls. Nearly twenty years ago, they had been forced to make an impossible choice: to protect their only child, a barely five-month-old baby named Aria, from the same powers that hunted them, they had left her in the care of the only person they could trust to protect her and, perhaps, guide her nascent, already extraordinarily potent and dangerous energy: the girl's maternal grandmother, a then highly respected and powerful Umbrian Master named Eleonora.

As Seraphina and Rafael fled around the world, from one hidden sanctuary to another, always one step ahead of the Consortium's relentless agents, the memory of their little Aria, of her tiny hands clinging to their fingers, of her innocent laughter, was the beacon that guided them and the wound that never healed. Their mission was to preserve not only their lives, but also certain knowledge and artifacts of the White Brotherhood that the Thirteen Families either coveted or feared.

Finally, sensing that the world's energies were convulsing in an unprecedented way, that the ancient evil the Brotherhood had always feared and fought in secret was awakening with unprecedented fury, they had decided to risk everything and return. Their first and most desperate objective: to find Eleonora and reunite with the daughter they barely remembered as a baby, but whose face they had reconstructed a thousand times in their dreams.

But their return to Mexico had been a series of devastating blows. Eleonora's ancient and isolated home in the Spring Forest near Guadalajara, where they had left their little Aria under a veil of magical protection, was nothing more than blackened and cold ruins, a silent echo of a battle or a purge long ago. There was no trace of Eleonora or her daughter.

With their hearts heavy with the worst of fears, they had traveled to their last known refuge, this sanctuary in the Sierra Gorda, the place where they had hoped to find the beating heart of the Great White Brotherhood, their Masters, their brothers and sisters in the Light.

But upon arrival, upon passing through the secret door that now opened before them, they found neither the vibrant community of adepts they remembered, nor the Ancient Masters whose wisdom illuminated their counsels. They found only a handful of worshippers, keeping a dying flame alive on the main altar, imparting the teachings to a few frightened acolytes. There was no trace of the great and powerful White Brotherhood they had known.

A deep sorrow, a sadness that chilled the soul and threatened to shatter their already shattered hope, gripped Seraphina and Rafael. The world they had known, the Brotherhood that was their family, their purpose, and their only hope for humanity, seemed to have faded or shrunk to near extinction, just when the planet needed their light and wisdom most. They were alone, with the ghost of their lost daughter and the ashes of their broken order.