Echoes of yesterday

Let us leave the present moment behind for a moment, that moment marked by blue fire and the burning pain of rebirth. Let us turn our backs on the ritual, on the sweat falling onto the wooden floor and on the whispers of the power that awaits. Now, let us look back to a time when blood had not yet stained memories and promises were not made of ashes.

To the quietest, and perhaps cruelest, days of Jota Morel's life. Because to understand his determination, his rage, and his purpose, it is not enough to see him endure suffering. One must know the roots of that fire that burns within him.

Before talking about justice, there was a childhood. Long before the ritual and the RN, there was a home. A life that seemed ordinary... until the extraordinary burst in with claws and teeth. A family broken, not by time, but by something much wilder and more ruthless.

We find ourselves in the region of Deldoria, which stretched out like a sea of dense, tall trees, where the sun barely managed to peek through the tangled canopy. The air smelled of damp wood, living earth, and freshly cut grass. In the distance, surrounded by green hills and narrow dirt roads, stood an old farmhouse with a red-tiled roof and aged wooden walls, resisting the passage of time with dignity. It was the home of Jota's paternal grandparents, a half-forgotten corner at the farthest reaches of Frontier. 

Specifically located in the village of Pondcross, a rural settlement at the northern end of Frontier. Isolated from the hustle and bustle of the cities and surrounded by thick forests, Pondcross was the kind of place that seemed suspended in time. There, the seasons set the pace of life, and technology had barely reached its roots.

A small vehicle made its way along a dirt road, surrounded by dense, whispering forests. Dust swirled beneath the wheels, while the trees seemed to close in on the sky.

Jota Morel, just eight years old, was travelling with his family to his grandparents' farm. Saida, his seven-year-old sister, slept in the lap of their mother, Adelise Morel. Their father, Edras Morel, drove with a concentrated expression, his hands tense on the steering wheel.

Jota, sitting in the back seat, stared out the window with wide eyes. The landscape passed before his eyes like a warning whisper, and although he was young, something inside him told him that this trip was different.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on the back of the driver's seat.

 "Dad... why are we going to the farm if it's dangerous? You said this area used to be yellow... now it's red..." asked Jota, his voice mixing curiosity with a hint of nervousness.

Edras Morel, a man with dark brown hair, a short beard and hands weathered by years of physical labour, smiled slightly when he saw him in the rear-view mirror. His deep dark brown eyes reflected a solid calm, the kind that seemed unshakeable even when the world was reeling. He had always been that way: serene, protective, with a patience that felt like a refuge for his family. Despite the firmness of his gestures, there was a quiet tenderness in his manner, a warmth that did not need many words.

But he felt somewhat uncomfortable hearing what his son said.

It was no place for the innocent. That territory was classified as a Red Zone, which in government code meant a clear warning: dangerous area, unstable presence, and hostile activity.

Yellow Zones, transitional regions where security was moderate and threats rarely appeared, still held a latent danger. The inhabitants lived under constant surveillance and hoped for stability. Heroes patrolled more regularly, but the balance could be broken at any moment.

"Because sometimes, Jota, the most valuable things aren't in safe places." She paused briefly, her deep voice sounding like a promise. "Your grandfather planted those fields with his own hands. That's where your roots were born, even if you don't know it yet. Sometimes you have to look to the past to understand what you must protect in the future."

Jota frowned, processing those words, as he felt his mother's hand rest gently on his shoulder.

Adelise Morel, sitting next to him, her long hair golden like ripe wheat, and large eyes a warm, bright brown, like honey in the sun. Her face, with its delicate features, was framed by subtle freckles that gave her a youthful, almost ethereal air. She had always been the heart of the family: sweet, understanding and deeply intuitive, able to grasp any emotion with just a glance. There was strength in her tenderness, a quiet fortitude that Jota admired even without fully understanding it.

"What about heroes? Isn't there one in Pondcross to protect us?" Jota asked curiously, turning his gaze to the forest, where the tall trees swayed as if whispering secrets.

"Yes, there is one," Edras replied, his tone becoming more serious. "He's not one of the highest-ranking heroes, but he's strong. Strong enough to keep the Devourers at bay... most of the time."

Adelise let out a soft laugh, like a gentle breeze through the leaves, and said, 

"Trust me, my love. We'll be fine. It'll only be for a week. Your grandparents will love to see how much you've grown."

Jota nodded slowly. He didn't want to worry them any more, but something inside him remained restless.

When he looked down, his thoughts began to flow through his mind like whispers.

"When I grow up... I want to be stronger than that hero. I want to protect everyone. Mum, Dad, Saida. I won't let anyone hurt them."

He clenched his fists on his legs, with a strength that came not from his muscles, but from his heart.

Unlike other children, Jota Morel had a special gift. From an early age, he could sense what others were feeling. He didn't understand how, he just... knew. As if he could see the colours hidden in their souls, as if silence itself spoke to him.

As the car moved forward, Jota felt his father's tension as he gripped the steering wheel, and the sadness hidden in his mother's gaze.

"They're worried..." he thought, watching as the trees seemed to close in on the path. "But they don't want to tell me."

He hugged his legs, as if protecting himself.

"This forest is scary," he thought. "It's like the trees are watching you."

His eyes fell on Saida, asleep in her mother's arms, oblivious to any danger.

"Sister... when I grow up, I'll become one of the top 20 heroes in the rankings and you won't have to worry about anything anymore," he thought, clenching his fists tightly. "Even though I'm scared to face the Devourers too... they're very scary."

He didn't know how he would do it. He only knew that one day he would be stronger, braver. Not so that others would admire him, but because there was something in his heart that would never allow him to give up.

Behind this entire defence system was the Hero Agency, known as the Celestial Tower. From that imposing structure, located in the heart of the capital called Blessed Land, the top 20 heroes in the rankings gave orders and protected the balance of Frontier. These elite heroes, more than celebrities, were authorities. They assigned missions, chose new defenders, and, from their golden heights, decided who should face the chaos.

The highest-ranking heroes rarely intervened in areas like Pondcross. It was heroes of lower rankings who were sent to defend red towns like this one. For them, there was no applause or statues: only the constant threat and the silent determination to resist. In a world where heroism was engraved in marble in the capital, here in the Red Zones, it was written in scars.

These heroes of the higher ranks mostly protected the Green Zones, which were almost invulnerable fortresses where life went on in relative peace.

Meanwhile, the vehicle continued towards Pondcross, and little Jota Morel was already beginning to walk, without knowing it, along the path that would lead him to face his own destiny.

The car gave one last rattle as it passed over a hill, and as it descended, the view of a small village opened up before them.

Despite being in a Red Zone, the place was brimming with life in its modest, rural way. Wooden and light-coloured brick houses lined both sides of the main road, with gabled roofs covered in worn tiles. Small windows, framed with faded curtains, reflected the evening light. 

In front of some houses, makeshift market stalls formed a small corridor filled with local produce: baskets of red apples, jars of thick honey, medicinal roots and carefully tanned animal skins. Men and women, weathered by the sun and farm work, moved between the stalls, exchanging words, smiles and goods. Some children ran barefoot, chasing each other, while an old dog dozed under a cart.

Jota pressed his face against the window, watching all the movement with wide eyes.

"Mum, look! There are lots of stalls!" he exclaimed, tapping the glass gently with his finger.

Adelise smiled, settling the sleeping Saida more comfortably on her lap.

"Yes, sweetheart. It's the village fair. They hold it every week to exchange things. There are no supermarkets here like in the city."

Edras slowed the vehicle, dodging a couple of chickens that were crossing the road without haste.

The air smelled of wet earth, ripe fruit, and wood smoke. A warm, rustic aroma that permeated their clothes and souls.

Jota rolled down the window a little and let the cool wind ruffle his hair.

"It's like... another world," he thought, feeling a mixture of curiosity and nervousness stirring inside his chest. "Everything looks beautiful... but also a little sad."

It was an ancient beauty, unadorned, charged with a silent effort that he, even though he was just a child, could feel. There were no tall buildings, no bright lights, no paved streets. Only wood, earth, and hearts beating strongly to stay alive amid the constant threat.

They passed in front of a small tavern, from inside which came the muffled sound of a guitar and scattered laughter. At the entrance, a hand-painted sign announced the name of the place: (The Wooden Refuge).

A sturdy man with a scar across his face watched the car pass by with attentive eyes. Jota felt a slight chill.

"He... feels tired," he thought, without quite understanding how he could know that. "And also... sad."

Further on, next to a stone fountain where a couple of children were playing and splashing each other, stood a small watchtower. At its top flew a worn flag: the symbol of the Hero Agency, embroidered in blue and silver thread. A silent promise of protection.

"That must be the town's hero," thought Jota, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I want to meet him."

The vehicle drove on a few more metres, leaving the bustle of the market behind and entering a tree-lined path that led to the family farm.

Jota, hugging his knees again, felt his little heart beating faster, not only from the excitement of the journey, but also from a deeper, harder-to-name feeling.

It was as if the air itself, laden with ancient promises and invisible dangers, whispered in his ear: "Remember this moment, little one. Because everything is about to change."

The dirt path wound through the trees until it opened up into a large clearing. There, life sprouted in all directions.

His grandparents' farm was a small universe of its own, lost among the wild forests of Deldoria. On either side of the road, crops grew in neat rows: tall cornstalks, red tomatoes like lanterns, and orange pumpkins that looked like huge stones. Beyond, fields of golden wheat waved gently in the wind, like a silent sea under the open sky.

Some animals roamed calmly near the fields. Goats climbed mossy rocks, chickens pecked at the ground in search of grains, and a couple of cows rested in the shade of an oak tree. Near the barn, a donkey tied to a post yawned lazily.

Jota leaned even closer to the window, his eyes shining with excitement.

"Mum, look! There are lots of animals! And the crops are huge!" he said, almost breathlessly.

Adelise smiled from her seat, giving him a loving look.

"Yes, sweetheart. Your grandfather has worked this land all his life. Every corner has a little piece of him in it," she replied sweetly.

As they drove on, Jota discovered that beyond the crops, there were several cabins scattered in a circle. They were made of aged wood, with sloping roofs and smoking chimneys. At first glance, it was clear that they were not just dwellings: they were also workshops, warehouses and small shelters for tools and animals.

But in the centre of the clearing stood a larger cabin, built of sturdy logs and a stone foundation. It had a large wooden porch, two rocking chairs worn from use, and a rose bush climbing wildly over the front columns. It was the main house, the heart of all that life.

Edras parked next to a post carved with the Morel family symbol: a strong oak tree with deep roots.

"We're here," he announced as he turned off the engine.

Before the car came to a complete stop, Jota opened the door and jumped out, breathing deeply the fresh air that smelled of wet earth and wildflowers.

"It feels different! It's like... like everything is bigger here!" he exclaimed, stretching his arms energetically.

While Saida slept on Adelise's lap, Edras took the suitcases out of the boot. Jota looked around, feeling the place envelop him like a song without words, something warm and ancient.

The door of the large cabin suddenly swung open, revealing two familiar figures: a sturdy man with ash-white hair and a woman with a sweet face and lively eyes that sparkled as if they had been waiting for this moment for years.

"Adelise! Edras! My children, welcome!" the woman cried, dropping the apron she was wearing.

"Grandma Rose!" called Jota, running towards her with a joyful laugh.

Rose hugged him immediately, lifting him off the ground with a clumsy but loving twist. Grandfather Edeh walked over with a steady, calm gait, smiling with a mixture of pride and relief.

Edras shook his father's hand firmly and then hugged him, while Adelise, still holding Saida in her arms, exchanged soft words with her mother.

Jota, freed from the hugs, spun around, looking at everything. He felt like he was in another world, one that pulsated with life.

"This place is like an enchanted forest," he thought, amazed. "Here I could build a fortress... or hunt invisible monsters..."

He paused for a second, watching as the last rays of the sun bathed the crops and huts in gold.

"I want everything to stay this way... forever," he wished silently, as a strange, barely perceptible sadness touched his heart.

Deep down, something told him that this peace was more fragile than it seemed.

Kind Grandma Rose, with a broad smile, took Jota's hand and led him to the nearby fields.

"Come, I'll show you how the pumpkins are growing this year. Look how big they are!" she said, laughing warmly as she pointed to a field full of vegetables. The sun was beginning to set, tinging the landscape with orange and gold tones.

Jota followed her enthusiastically, glancing around him. "It's like a maze of plants and trees," he thought, as he ventured further between the rows of crops.

Rose was a slim but strong woman with grey hair tied back in a simple bun. Her light brown eyes always sparkled with wisdom, reflecting a life of hard work and love for her family. Although her skin showed the signs of ageing, her smile remained youthful, as warm and welcoming as ever.

On the other side, Edeh, the grandfather, showed Edras the new stable he had built with his own hands, proudly explaining how he had improved conditions for the animals.

"This winter will be much easier for them," he said, his voice low but firm, as if manual labour were his way of showing his love for his family.

Edeh had a robust and energetic figure despite his age. His completely white hair gave him a venerable air, and his thick, grey beard accentuated his wise countenance. His dark eyes, always alert and full of life, remained focused and serene, as if every corner of his farm had a story to tell.

Edras and Edeh approached the new barn, while Adelise and Rose continued with Jota among the crops. Saida, who had already woken up, walked hand in hand with her mother, her small figure hugging Adelise, while Rose chatted animatedly with them about the plants and flowers in the field.

"I'm glad to know you're in such a protected area," said Edeh, his voice laden with deep serenity, but with a touch of concern for what his son might have had to face in the Red Zone. "Alvoria is just below us, right? A quiet area... What gives me peace is knowing that you don't have to deal with what we face here, son."

Edras nodded with a slight smile, feeling the weight of his father's words. He knew what it meant to live in Pondcross, and that concern for his well-being touched him more than he would admit.

"Father... how are things going here? I see you're improving the houses," said Edras, looking at the small huts around the stable, arranged in a rustic but orderly circle.

Edeh crossed his arms and nodded with a serene smile, looking proudly at the buildings.

"We've done what we can with what we have. Some neighbours decided to stay and put down roots, so we got organised. This land can be difficult, but it also gives a lot if you take care of it."

His gaze drifted for a moment towards the fields, as if he were looking at something beyond the present.

"Since that tragic day... it's been five years since the Devourers appeared. All of Pondcross was in chaos then. But I don't think it will happen again... at least not for now."

Before Edras could answer his father's question, children's laughter broke the calm of the evening. From one of the paths that crossed the village, a girl about Jota's age appeared running between the houses, barefoot, her cheeks reddened by the wind and a wild flower in her hand. Her brown hair, tied in two somewhat messy pigtails, bounced with each step.

"Grandpa Edeh!" she shouted cheerfully as she threw herself into his arms.

Edeh smiled immediately, bending down to give her a big, warm hug. Although she was not his biological granddaughter, Ela had been calling him "grandpa" for a couple of years, ever since her family settled near the farm. They had come looking for a safer place within the Red Zone itself, and found in Edeh and Rose an adoptive family made up of generosity and mutual affection.

A few seconds later, a woman with a serene expression, sun-tanned skin and a long braid falling over her shoulder appeared. She walked at a leisurely pace, with a cloth hanging from her belt and a smile on her face.

"There's no stopping her when she gets excited," she said softly. At her side, a broad-shouldered man with rolled-up sleeves approached with a steady gait. His gaze was attentive, though his manner was relaxed.

"These are Sira and Noam, Ela's parents," explained Edeh, looking up at her son. "They've been good neighbours since they arrived a year ago. They settled here just as we began rebuilding this part of the settlement."

Edras shook Noam's hand, returning a brief smile.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Edras, Edeh's son. Adelise is with my mother, and my children Jota and Saida are with them, over there." He pointed towards the field, where the silhouettes of the aforementioned could be seen among the crops.

Ela climbed down from Edeh's arms and looked towards the fields. Her attention was drawn to Jota, who was also watching her with some curiosity from a distance. They did not know each other. Their eyes met for just a few seconds, enough to leave the seed of a first impression.

"Hello," Ela murmured softly, without looking away.

While the adults continued talking in the distance, Ela did not wait for an invitation. With the naturalness of someone accustomed to moving freely through the countryside, she ran between the rows of pumpkins and tomato plants, dodging the plants as if she knew every corner of the land. She still held the wild flower in her hand.

Jota, who was helping his grandmother Rose gather some dry branches by the fence, looked up when he saw the girl approaching at full speed. He blinked, confused at first, then slowly stood up, his expression attentive, like someone about to face a new kind of creature in one of his mind games.

Saida, who was standing next to Jota, looked curiously at the girl approaching them.

Ela stopped a few steps away from them, somewhat flustered but with a big smile on her face.

"Hello... Jota. Are you Jota?" she asked bluntly, waiting several seconds.

Ela raised an eyebrow, making a playful face. "Didn't you hear what I just said?" she replied with a mischievous smile.

Jota, now recognising the girl, smiled and replied, "Yes, I heard you say it before."

Jota laughed, and Saida, looking at Ela, said curiously, "Yes, Jota heard you. He's a little distracted sometimes, but not for long."

Ela laughed softly, and just then, Adelise, who was approaching the children, saw Ela and looked at her curiously. Although she didn't know her name, she gave her a warm smile.

"Hello," Adelise said kindly, leaning slightly to address Ela. "What's your name?"

"Ela," the girl replied with a broad smile. "I live nearby."

Adelise nodded, smiling. "That's great, Ela. Jota, Saida, take care of Grandma, okay? I'm going to talk to the others."

Jota nodded, and Adelise walked away quietly, leaving them with Rose.

"Is she your mum?" Ela asked with interest.

"Yes, she's our mum, she's Adelise," replied Saida.

Jota, after a moment, looked at Ela. "Do you help with the plants too?"

Ela shook her head proudly. "No. I hunt toads. And once I saw a badger... well, I think it was a badger. But it ran really fast."

Saida, who had been watching closely, joined the conversation: "A badger? That sounds amazing, Ela. Aren't you afraid of the Devourers?"

Ela shrugged. "They haven't shown up in years. And if they do... my dad has an old shotgun. It's not much use, but it makes noise. That scares them."

Jota was thoughtful for a moment. He liked Ela. She was different from the children of Alvoria. Wilder, as if she were part of the place. He offered her his hand, formally.

"Do you want to build a fortress with me? An imaginary one."

Ela looked at him in surprise, but then nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

Saida, not wanting to miss the opportunity, also joined in. "I want to too! We can make it bigger."

With Saida now joining in the fun, they both ran towards a clearing among the plants, where some old stones and a fallen tree became, in their minds, a castle to defend against invisible monsters.

As the children played in the field, laughing and shouting, the siren began to sound shrill, cutting through the hustle and bustle and silence of the village.

"All residents, return to your lodgings immediately. I repeat: return to your lodgings until further notice!" The voice over the loudspeaker sounded with a blood-curdling urgency. The children stopped dead in their tracks, looking around in confusion and fear, while their parents and neighbours hurried to call them and take them home.

"What's that sound?" Jota asked his new friend Ela with a touch of nervousness, as he turned towards the forest that was sinking into an eerie gloom with the fading sun. His eyes, filled with growing terror, fixed on the darkness that seemed to be closing in on them.