Isaak d'Averno

The dry breeze stirred gently across the desolate plain, carrying with it the faintest rhythm of approaching footsteps—light, almost ghostlike. Somewhere behind the soft rustle of low grasses, a voice called out, delicate yet sharp with tension. Feminine. Youthful.

And then, through the sparse golden reeds and the subtle mirage-haze, she appeared.

Her presence seemed to shimmer like a dream amid the stark landscape: long, flowing bordeaux hair framed her face like silk inked in wine; her eyes, piercing and verdant, were full of life and alarm. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain, and her features possessed an angelic grace—yet her stature was slight. Compared to Isaak's towering frame, she seemed fragile, more like a young girl than a warrior or priestess.

???: "Ahhhh! W-what are you doing?!"

The moment her eyes caught Isaak, she let out a startled cry. Her hand flew to her face as though shielding herself from something scandalous and sacred. Color flushed her cheeks, betraying not just modesty—but shock, embarrassment, and maybe even a dash of fear.

???: "Put something on for heaven's sake! Why are you naked, you animal?!"

Isaak blinked, his face blank with confusion. His posture was calm, his spirit untroubled. He stood as if unaware of the social expectation he had just shattered. He didn't flinch, didn't hide. There was no shame in his body, nor in the way he regarded her; no mischief, no hidden fire. Just innocence.

Isaak d'Averno: "Good day. Have I done something wrong, miss?"

His voice was deep, rich, almost regal—but more importantly, sincere. Like someone who truly didn't understand why they'd caused offense.

???: "Are you an idiot?! You don't have clothes! What kind of person walks around like this?!"

Isaak d'Averno: "Of course not. I've only just come into existence. I have no clothes, no home—only nature. And if I am comfortable, I see no need for clothing."

He spoke with such serenity that it disarmed the anger in her voice. It was like listening to someone speak from another time—someone untouched by modern shame or social custom.

???: "Ugh… The worst part is, I can't detect a single lie. How can you say that so innocently?!"

She turned her back to him entirely, flustered beyond words. Her voice wavered with disbelief, and her hands fidgeted nervously at the edge of her robe's sleeves.

Isaak d'Averno: "Please, tell me your name. Perhaps that will help ease this strange moment."

???: "Hmph... I am Theresia Kreuznacht. I work for my family—as a nun and, occasionally against my will, as an inquisitor…"

Her tone shifted as she spoke—wounded pride giving way to duty and weariness. She clearly wasn't thrilled by her second title.

Isaak took a single step forward, offering his hand with gentle courtesy—like a knight might, unaware of the turmoil his presence was causing.

Isaak d'Averno: "A pleasure to meet you, Theresia. I am Isaak d'Averno. I was just born—I know no more about myself than you do."

Theresia flinched. The idea of a naked stranger standing this close to her, hand extended with no concept of shame, nearly overwhelmed her.

Theresia: "Don't come any closer! Degenerate pervert!"

Isaak paused, brow creased in quiet confusion, his hand still hovering in the air. This time, his voice held a faint tremor—not of guilt, but frustration at the miscommunication.

Isaak d'Averno: "No, no, you're mistaken. I truly have nothing to wear, and I said I know nothing—being newly born. Perhaps... you could guide me, bring me clothes. I would, of course, help you in return."

The silence that followed was stretched by the wind passing over the dust and the whisper of distant water. Her figure stiffened for a few moments before finally softening.

Theresia: "Fine… I suppose having extra hands might be useful. I can't exactly leave someone to die out here, either…"

Isaak smiled, just slightly—his lips curving with quiet relief, though she was too shy to see it.

Theresia: "Alright, don't move a muscle. My family doesn't live far—I'll return quickly!"

Isaak d'Averno: "Excellent. I'll see you soon then. Don't worry about specifics—I'll be grateful for anything."

And with that, Theresia turned, her white robe flowing like a ribbon in the wind. She disappeared quickly into the vast horizon, her pace urgent, her mission clear.

The plain was quiet once again.

Isaak sat near the river—his feet still submerged in the cool, ever-moving water. The sky above him was crystalline, not a single cloud to break its perfect blue canvas. The sun warmed his body, the wind curled softly around his shoulders. But none of it mattered now. Not entirely.

His thoughts had turned inward.

"I've only just arrived in these lands—peaceful, gentle, the kind of place one might call paradise. Offering my help felt right. I don't care much for who I might meet—every soul is interesting to someone like me.

Still… the questions swarm. How can I think so clearly? Why am I an adult in body, yet so freshly born in mind? How did I come to be? Was I chosen by fate? If so, why me? Why not another?

How different am I from Theresia? Is it because I am man, and she is woman? Or something deeper? I don't yet understand my purpose—or if I'm meant to have one at all. Perhaps in such tranquil lands, purpose itself is irrelevant. Maybe I'm meant to simply… exist. Enjoy. Learn.

Even that is a question.

Maybe thought alone is not enough to understand. Maybe language, as powerful as it is, cannot teach all things. Maybe I am not meant to know. Still, I feel my mind expanding with every passing moment. My body, though—it does not change.

Could it be that body and mind are not truly connected? That one cannot reflect the other? If that's true, then every being is born with the potential for greatness—but life hinders that potential before it can bloom. And no effort, no matter how sincere, is always enough."

His thoughts spilled from him like water from a cracked vessel—unbidden, irrepressible, deep.

And as he sat by the river's edge, the wind singing gently across the plain, Isaak found that—for now—he had nothing else to do but wait. To live. To trust that his path, strange and sudden, would bring him to something meaningful.

Several minutes passed in quiet solitude, until at last, the young woman reappeared on the horizon—her gaze still cast downward, never daring to meet Isaak's eyes. She approached in silence, the soft fabric of her white robe fluttering gently in the evening wind. In her arms, she carried a small bundle: a loose-fitting tunic of modest white linen and a pair of simple sandals.

Theresia: "I'll turn around now. Please… take these and put them on."

She spoke softly, almost muttering, before turning her back to him with haste. She placed the garments a little over two meters away, on the short grass, careful not to get too close. Her body remained stiff, a mix of decorum and discomfort holding her in place.

Isaak stepped forward, calm and unbothered, and knelt to pick up the tunic. It resembled a robe in many ways, much like the one Theresia wore—though larger, simpler, and more reserved in design. As he slipped it on, followed by the sandals, the sensation felt strange… less pleasant than the earth beneath his bare feet, but far from unbearable.

Once dressed, the fabric draped his frame with surprising harmony. Though plain, it did little to hide the elegance of his figure: pale skin like polished marble, muscles sculpted with natural grace, and a presence that felt more divine than human. There was nothing vulgar about him—he seemed more like an emperor in disguise than any lost soul or savage.

Isaak d'Averno: "I'm dressed now. It's comfortable. You can turn around."

Theresia hesitated, then slowly lifted her gaze. For the second time, her eyes met his—and the moment they did, she froze. His eyes… piercing and deep, an oceanic blue that seemed to draw her in without effort. Her breath caught in her throat.

She tried to look away—but her eyes involuntarily trailed down his form. Her cheeks flushed red, subtly but unmistakably. Her lips parted slightly, as if to speak, but no words came.

Isaak d'Averno: "Thank you for the clothes. But may I ask… what were you doing here alone? You weren't equipped for any particular task."

He spoke with sincere curiosity. After all, she had no supplies, no protection, and no companion with her. She stood here as if summoned by fate itself.

Theresia: "Well… I come here to pray. To reflect. Since we don't have a proper church nearby, this place is the closest thing I have to a sacred space. It's ridiculous, really... Every village should have a church, and yet…"

He tilted his head, intrigued.

Isaak d'Averno: "I see. Then… may I ask? Which God do you pray to?"

She looked at him with sudden pride, chin raised.

Theresia: "To the only true God, of course—Reinhardt Voss von Abendrot."

Isaak blinked. The name was unfamiliar, foreign even—but clearly held weight in her eyes.

Isaak d'Averno: "That's quite a name. You must be proud to follow him. Your family as well, I assume?"

Theresia: "And what about you, Mister d'Averno? Do you believe in God?"

He paused thoughtfully.

Isaak d'Averno: "It's… difficult to say. I've said it before: I was only just born into this world. I'm still discovering what belief even means."

Theresia: "You did say that… I still don't really understand what you mean by it. You're very odd."

She narrowed her eyes in skepticism, but there was no hostility in her tone—just confusion.

After a pause, she added more quietly:

Theresia: "But you don't seem insane. You don't feel like someone touched by demonic influence. That's a relief."

Isaak d'Averno: "So… you believe me? I didn't expect you to change your opinion so soon. I suppose my arrival truly is a mystery."

Theresia: "A normal person might not have believed you. But I'm not entirely normal. As a nun—and, when necessary, an inquisitor—I have a gift. I can detect evil in others. If someone is lying to me… I know."

Isaak d'Averno: "That sounds remarkably useful. Are there limits? Can you detect all lies, from anyone?"

Theresia: "It's not foolproof. You have to mix divine grace with human wisdom. But so far, I haven't found the edge of my ability. Still, I haven't had much need for it lately. Things have been peaceful since last year. The worst is behind us."

She sighed, as if the memories of past conflicts still lingered in her chest like ashes.

Isaak d'Averno: "Then I suppose your talents as an inquisitor aren't as valued these days. Though, I know little about such matters. I hope to learn more from your family."

Theresia: "Speaking of which… we should head back. I wasn't supposed to stay out this long, and the sun's beginning to set. I'll explain more about our family once we're home."

Isaak d'Averno: "I would be honored, Miss Theresia. I look forward to meeting your father—and your uncle, if possible."

Her tone shifted, her expression growing more distant.

Theresia: "You won't meet my uncle anytime soon. He's… not around much, and we have our reasons for keeping it that way. He's not exactly someone we hope to see again soon."

Isaak d'Averno: "Very well. I'll accept whatever is meant for me to see. I'd love to ask more, but I understand it's better to learn slowly. I'm still new to this world."

Theresia: "Exactly. Thank you for understanding. Now… follow me, Mister d'Averno."

Isaak d'Averno: "Please, call me Isaak. I've called you Theresia already—we should start on equal footing."

Theresia: "Oh—right, I'm sorry. It's a habit. Even with boys my age, I tend to speak formally. I don't talk to many people… it's awkward sometimes."

They walked together, step by step under the warming colors of the dusk. Along the way, Isaak learned that Theresia was just eighteen—barely a year younger than he appeared. Their 'ages' were 'close', but the worlds they came from could not have been more different.

After a long and peaceful walk through grassy fields and patches of whispering trees, they finally arrived at a modest estate nestled between two hills.

Theresia: "Here it is. This is where we live."