"Since my earliest childhood, all I rember is this city, its people, and above all, our ancestral tradition.
My grandfather was the city’s leader at the ti. He used to teach , along with the other children, the history of our kingdom or rather, what remained of it in his mory.
Before we settled on this continent, he said, Eterneti was the greatest human kingdom. Our strength was such that even a Calamity kingdom dared not confront us directly.
Our king and his glorious knights were the pride of the realm. Every ti the king struck with his sword, mountains lted and oceans split in two. His mightiest knights wore golden armor purer than any other and each bore a legend of their own.
My grandfather always had a dreamy look in his eyes when recounting the king’s and his knights’ epic tales.
He had once dread of joining them in his youth, but lacked the strength. That dream, he passed on first to my parents, and then to .
He used to tell us that one day, the king would return, him and his knights; that we, as loyal servants, had to keep the faith.
At the ti, I didn’t realize it... but we had already committed our greatest sin: losing faith in a king we had never seen. His golden knights had beco bedti myths.
People my age saw nothing more than stories remnants of a past that the old clung to in vain.
And I... I made no distinction.
As I grew older, rchants would often co, bringing delicious food, refined clothes, and most of all, those vials said to keep death at bay.
Each ti, my grandfather would chase them away, rejecting their offers.
"We, people of Eterneti, will stay true to our traditions. None among us will stoop low enough to trample the precepts of our king."
When I turned fourteen, my grandfather passed away of old age. We buried him with honor, and I took his place as city leader.
The power granted by my new role did nothing to erase the pain of his loss. My parents had died long before I could even rember their faces. He had been my only family, and the most precious part of it.
His death left an empty shell. Without my friends, I don’t think I would have made it through.
At sixteen, just when I thought my wounds were healing, the woman I loved the one I had promised to marry died.
She died in accordance with our traditions, and as the leader, I was the one who had to organize the festival to celebrate her death.
That evening, when the ceremony ended and I returned ho, there was nothing but emptiness.
My grandfather had died upholding our traditions until his final breath.
And my beloved died because she remained faithful to an old custom.
Day by day, age crept in, and with it ca the weight of death.
Soon, I would have to cross death... and co back. But... would I survive?
Every day, I saw friends fall to it. So few ever returned.
Eventually, watching those I loved die one after another broke the last remnants of my faith a fragile fla that never truly held.
As always, the rchants arrived with their treasures and that vial that could spare , and others, the cruel trial of death.
I fought them off once, mustering all the strength I had left.
But a few days later, as my body began to fail , and rumors spread that another city had bought the vials... I simply couldn’t resist.
I sent strong young n to go fetch them, and when they arrived, I threw myself into their arms.
Fear of death and its trial had consud .
When I drank the vial, I felt my body regain its strength, and death retreat.
The elders of the city rebelled against I, who was ant to uphold our traditions.
Their complaints weighed on for a while, but the young stood by and comforted in my decision.
"Why should we die in vain, when we can live long?"
"Why follow customs when the king will never return?"
"What is wrong with loving life and fearing death?"
Our slogans convinced even the hesitant.
All the youth stood united behind .
The elders, seeing this, could no longer stay and migrated to the last city that still upheld our ancestral ways.
Once they left, our ties with the rchants grew stronger. Each month, they’d bring us more of these vials what they called ’serum’ in exchange for gold, diamonds, or any precious tal.
These tals, which they valued so much, were not rare.
Near our city was a gold mine, and in a nearby town, a diamond mine.
Though the lands we settled after the Great Migration were harsh and dry, we lacked no precious tal.
At the ti, I didn’t know I had dood our city.
Because even though I regretted accepting their offer too late... if I had done it earlier, the woman I loved would still be with us.
But the rchants had other plans.
Their visits beca less frequent, more spaced out, and our wait grew more desperate.
We found ourselves counting the days until their next arrival.
Without knowing it, we had beco dependent on the serum.
One day, during one of their visits, they asked us to entertain them.
We organized a sacred dance reserved for our most honored guests.
But it wasn’t enough.
They demanded, in their own words:
"Sothing more sensual, more wild, more carnal."
I had a bad feeling when I saw their twisted expressions.
But it was too late we were already at their rcy.
"If you refuse," they said, "we’ll leave with the serum and never return."
That threat terrified us all.
The won looked at one another, then stared at .
Their eyes didn’t ask for help... they asked for permission.
When I looked at the n, so trembled, others froze.
The ones trembling had wives and their fear of death outweighed their jealousy.
The ones frozen were the children. Too young to take the serum, yet old enough to understand what was happening.
As leader, the choice was mine.
And once again... I failed.
Visit after visit, their demands grew more vile.
Without realizing it, we mined day and night.
Our won beca their entertainnt.
Marriages grew rare. Births, even rarer.
And the population I sought to preserve stagnated... until famine and disease followed.
My nights turned to nightmares. The faces of the dead haunted .
My grandfather. My love. The elders... they had warned .
The seed of rebellion began to grow.
We gathered in secret, ready to end their tyranny by force if needed.
We wanted to be n again not slaves.
But one night, without warning, dozens of terrified won and children were brought into our town.
"A village dared to rebel. Let this be your warning. Any who disobey will see their hos burned, their n stoned to death. The won and children will serve as witnesses for the next city."
That ssage broke everyone I had rallied.
One by one, they abandoned .
I was left alone, save for my closest friends.
We tried to unite with other cities.
But no ssenger ever returned.
And with every visit, the rchants counted us... making sure no one had escaped.
I regretted the departure of the elders.
With them, we might’ve found freedom.
But giving up the serum ant facing death.
Were we ready? Was I?
Years passed. Our bodies weakened. We grew old.
In old age, I thought of my grandfather, of his stories.
My only treasure was the mory that ti could not erase.
I rembered the past atmosphere, the people’s fervor, the ceremonies held for those who ca back... or didn’t.
And as our bodies reached their end, my brothers because that’s all they were now and I did sothing mad.
If death is inevitable, why not face it head-on?
It was the hardest fight of my life.
Not drinking the serum was like not breathing.
I locked myself away, chewing my nails raw.
In the end, it was the empty eyes of my people that gave strength.
After several days of abstinence, I finally let myself die... like I should have long ago.
I saw my life flash before . My consciousness struggled.
And as it faded... a voice my own whispered:
"If you wish, I can return your youth, undo your mistakes, let you see your grandfather and your beloved again."
That voice... was the greatest temptress.
How many tis had I wished it?
How many tis had I dread of seeing their faces again?
But I refused.
Because the empty eyes of the living, the hatred I bore for the rchants, the promise I made to my brothers... all of it gave the strength to say:
"No."
The voice fell silent, and wished good luck.
I was transported into my soul...
And I gained a power.
When I returned, my body brimd with life.
I ran to my brothers.
But only the stench of their rotting corpses awaited .
I cried more than ever.
Until one of their children ca and hugged .
That’s when I ca to my senses again.
I buried them, and hid the children under an old tent.
Because tonight, the rchants will return.
And I will cast off my weakness.
I will slit the throats of our oppressors.
I will rid this city of their darkness.
If I fail... then I will die trying.
I write this journal for you, the one reading it.
Tell those children to believe...
Because I didn’t
Not until the end."
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