Hammya awoke in an unknown world… it seemed like another planet, one she had never seen before and yet, at the same time, felt deeply familiar. She smiled simply for being there.

  The blue presence emerged without announcement, as though it had always existed in that space. Its shape was human, but incomplete: the edges of its silhouette blurred and wavered, and its face held a constant tension, as if two expressions were fighting for dominance.

  “This isn’t the first time we’ve met, is it?”

  Hammya tilted her head, amused.

  “What do you think?”

  The presence studied her carefully, as though her answer had triggered something.

  “Interesting.”

  “Come on,” Hammya said, crossing her arms. “What’s the test this time?”

  There was a pause. The blue presence seemed to lean toward her—not physically, but in intent.

  “How curious… there is something inside you. It wasn’t there before. Or not like this.”

  Before Hammya could reply, the world fractured.

  Space folded in on itself, and suddenly they stood in a dark forest. The silence was thick, oppressive, broken only by a distant murmur that did not seem to come from any living being. Before them rose a colossal, ancient tree, its trunk deformed by an irregular protrusion.

  From afar, the distortion seemed minor. Up close, it revealed its true scale: it was not a wound, but a womb.

  Inside, visible through the split bark, lay a woman in a fetal position. Naked. Suspended in a greenish, viscous substance—almost organic. Thick and delicate roots wrapped around her, piercing her skin with cruel gentleness, as if they neither harmed her nor allowed her to leave. She slept deeply, breathing slowly, unaware of the world.

  “What is this?” the blue presence asked, for the first time uncertain.

  Hammya smiled—this time without humor.

  “Are you really asking? You know exactly what it is.”

  “You are… you,” it whispered. “But… how?”

  The presence stepped closer to the tree, analyzing it with near-obsessive focus. It failed to notice that behind it, Hammya was beginning to change.

  A soft glow, almost imperceptible at first, traveled across her body. Her figure grew taller, firmer. The innocence drained from her gestures. Her clothing shifted, her posture straightened, and when she spoke, her voice no longer belonged to the same Hammya who had awakened there.

  “Please,” she said. “Tell me you don’t find this interesting.”

  The presence turned slowly.

  “After all,” Hammya continued, “you’re just a personification of part of my mind. You exist with what I give you. You can’t create new knowledge. You can’t understand what I’ve never learned. Tell me… what is the theory of relativity?”

  The presence opened its mouth. Nothing came out.

  “…I can’t.”

  “You see?” Hammya lowered her gaze to her hands, examining her nails with disdain. “And yet I know my friends are in your hands right now.”

  “If you already knew these trials,” the presence asked, “why repeat them?”

  “Because I need Candado to trust me,” she replied without looking at it. “That’s all.”

  The blue face turned expressionless.

  “I see.”

  The forest collapsed like ash scattered by the wind. The tree remained. The woman remained. But the world around them mutated into a wasteland of ruins—collapsed buildings, fractured streets, the remnants of a city that once breathed.

  Hammya closed her eyes.

  “I spoke too much,” she murmured.

  Then she heard it.

  A broken, animal, desperate sob.

  She turned—and saw herself.

  Kneeling among rubble. Clutching a lifeless body. She did not need to see the face: the fallen beret and the stained white gloves were enough.

  “Him,” said the blue presence. “I assume he was the catalyst of your present.”

  “I forgot you do this,” Hammya muttered. “I’m inside my own mind.”

  She approached her other self and heard her repeating, over and over, as if the world might obey:

  “Wake up… don’t do this to me… please…”

  Hammya inhaled deeply.

  “I know how this works,” she said. “You want me to run. To break. To deny it or accept it. That’s your test.”

  She raised her eyes.

  “Yes, it hurt. And it still does. I lost him. Not because the world was unfair, but because I wasn’t enough. I was weak. I was naive. That’s why I’m here. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  “Are you sure that’s all?”

  Reality fractured.

  It did not disappear. It multiplied.

  Four scenarios overlapped at once.

  In one, Hammya stood with one arm missing, staring at Candado’s body pierced by a spear. Dried blood marked his lips. His eyes reflected nothing.

  “Candado Barret,” recited the presence. “Killed in an altercation. Too weak to react. Hammya Saillim loses an arm to Thanatos. Candado never attends the meeting with Sara. Second journey.”

  Hammya tried to turn away, but the world did not permit it.

  “Candado Barret, kidnapped by traitors of the guild. Used as a bargaining chip. Tortured. Hammya arrives too late. She finds him hanging from the ceiling, eyeless. Sara failed the trial. Candado and Hammya were absent when she took her own life. Third journey begins.”

  “You’re obsessed with this,” Hammya mocked, though her voice trembled faintly.

  “Candado attends the meeting but remains distant. Sara fails. He receives only a mineral. He insists. Three years feeding the stone with his own energy. He dies without recovering from the spell. Fourth journey.”

  Hammya let out a short, bitter laugh.

  “Yes, that was rough. Not as rough as forgetting to feed my turtle.”

  The presence studied her more closely now.

  “Why pretend you don’t care?”

  Without a word, Hammya moved.

  In a swift, precise motion, she seized the blue presence by the throat. Her fingers tightened without hesitation. The presence did not resist. It did not tremble. It showed no fear.

  “There are things you don’t play with, crystal,” Hammya said quietly, her voice edged with threat.

  The presence regarded her with unnatural calm.

  “Is violence an answer… or an evasion?”

  Hammya tightened her grip just enough to signal intent.

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “What do you think? Do I look like I want to run?”

  “Why do you say run?”

  Before she could answer, the presence dissolved from her grasp as though it had never been there. Its body fragmented into sparks and the world shattered again.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  “Hammya. First journey.”

  The voice resonated without a body.

  “You make a pact with Chronos. You decide to travel. You avoid conflicts… but you also avoid irreplaceable opportunities for him.”

  The scene assembled.

  Candado never met Nelson. The healing never occurred. The timeline advanced mutilated from its origin.

  “You fall captive to P.U.R.A. He saves you. But the agents do not surrender.”

  She saw the pursuit. The confinement. The incomplete escape.

  “They come back for you. Candado arrives… weak.”

  She saw him use what little he had left. Saw him force a body that no longer responded.

  “He dies in your arms,” the voice continued. “Content. Relieved. Because he saved you.”

  The world froze on that image.

  A gray wasteland. Ruins erected by the agents. An entire settlement reduced to debris.

  Candado was blind.

  He reached out a trembling hand until he found her face. His fingers traced her cheek as if trying to memorize it.

  He smiled.

  “I could… save you,” he whispered.

  They were his last words.

  He died there.

  Hammya screamed his name. Shook him. Tried to wake him, as though denial could reverse death.

  The scene shifted.

  “Second journey,” the presence continued. “You restart further back. You prevent Candado from losing his sister.”

  The world rewrote itself.

  “But you failed to notice something fundamental. You changed his reality… not the world.”

  The conflicts remained.

  “Candado ceased to be a protagonist. No leader. No key witness. Just one more.”

  War came anyway.

  “You were prepared. He wasn’t.”

  She saw the chaos. Saw Candado try to protect her without knowing how.

  “Trying to save you killed him.”

  Darkness swallowed the scene.

  “Gabriela unleashed her wrath upon you,” the voice said. “And you wondered what went wrong.”

  A pause.

  “Everything.”

  The world barely held together.

  “Her death was necessary. For his mental strength. Psychic. Physical.”

  Hammya clenched her teeth.

  “Go on,” she said. “Speak. I want more.”

  “Third journey.”

  Time adjusted again.

  “You do not save Gabriela. You let events unfold.”

  Something was different.

  “You felt watched,” the presence continued. “As though the stage was no longer yours alone.”

  Hammya remembered.

  “You changed nothing… and yet something changed.”

  A new woman appeared.

  “Light blue hair. Never seen before. Eight.”

  The first encounter unfolded.

  “Candado was hostile toward you. Harder than before.”

  Eight remained.

  “She stayed.”

  Hammya did not understand why.

  “You failed to approach him. You chose to protect him from afar.”

  Distance became habit.

  “Candado never met key figures. Lucas. Germán. Declan. Héctor. They never entered his life.”

  The twins appeared later.

  “Erika and Lucía became tools. No bond. No affection. Only manipulation.”

  Hammya closed her eyes. That fate for them hurt deeply.

  “They betray Candado against Thanatos.”

  The kidnapping was inevitable.

  “You did not foresee it.”

  She was shattered.

  “So were you.”

  Hammya did not answer.

  She looked at the fractured remnants of overlapping realities. Broken versions of the same story.

  And she smiled.

  “Fourth journey.”

  The voice sounded heavier now.

  “With extreme willpower, you follow the script. Everything unfolds exactly as it should.”

  Nothing deviated.

  “But Candado never recovers. The reason revealed itself slowly.”

  A distant, severe Candado appeared.

  “He never trusted you.”

  The blow landed squarely in her chest.

  “He became more dependent on his circle. You discovered the truth too late.”

  Years passed in silent glances.

  “He only played along. He wanted to know what you wanted.”

  Silence.

  “He never knew you were trying to protect him.”

  The final image was devastating.

  “He spent his life watching you,” the presence continued, “instead of taking care of himself.”

  Hammya understood then.

  “That’s why he died.”

  Everything stopped.

  The noise vanished.

  The light extinguished.

  And the forest returned, intact, as though nothing had ever happened.

  Hammya smiled.

  It was not a gentle smile. It was the kind born when someone knows they have already won.

  “Did you have fun?”

  The blue presence regarded her cautiously.

  “Is that what you think? That I’m amused?”

  Then it happened.

  The Hammya trapped inside the tree opened her eyes.

  She woke with a violent gasp, as if she had been holding her breath for centuries. Slowly, she looked around, processing the space—the forest, the blue presence. It reacted at once, its attention snapping toward her, attempting to analyze her mind, dismantle it, understand it.

  But something failed.

  The information did not flow as it had before.

  There was a new sensation.

  It was not confusion. Not alertness.

  It was… terror.

  Behind the blue presence’s back, Hammya let out a low, muffled laugh. The entity spun around immediately, startled.

  “I’ve got you,” Hammya said.

  With a sharp motion, she snapped one of the branches binding her other self to the tree.

  “You’re about to see what happens when someone gets too curious, crystal.”

  The branch broke with a wet crack.

  From the body of the Hammya inside the tree, a translucent figure emerged—deep green, like a living shadow made of sap and will. It slipped out of the trunk and, without effort, seized the blue presence.

  “That was very rude,” the green figure said in a soft, almost playful voice. “Didn’t your creators teach you not to meddle in other people’s lives?”

  The blue presence attempted the only thing it knew how to do: analyze.

  It plunged into the mind of this new being.

  And that was when it saw.

  Too much.

  Too many images. Too many actions. Too many overlapping decisions. Entire worlds collapsing and being reborn. Lives taken, lost, preserved, sacrificed. Intentions that followed no known moral structure. Love, cruelty, infinite patience, hunger, resentment, hatred.

  Knowledge that should not exist within a single consciousness.

  The blue presence screamed.

  It was not a physical scream—it was mental, absolute, tearing. It had seen things it was never meant to see. Things it was never meant to know. Things that, even understood, it could not endure.

  It was too much.

  “Uh-oh,” the green figure chimed. “Did I break you? What a shame.”

  The blue presence tried to escape.

  “I’ve seen enough!”

  Nothing happened.

  “I said I’ve seen enough!”

  The world did not respond.

  The green figure laughed, tilting her head.

  “Did you really think you were leaving with all that inside your head? No, I don’t think so.”

  She stepped closer and pressed her index finger gently against the blue presence’s forehead, smiling mischievously.

  “That belongs to me, little gossip.”

  The moment she touched it, the blue presence fell into a trance. Hammya watched the scene, visibly impressed.

  “Wow… remind me not to make you angry.”

  The blue presence lost consciousness and collapsed.

  The green figure observed it for a few seconds longer, then turned toward Hammya.

  “Look, I don’t care what you’re doing,” she said indifferently. “But do it quickly. It’s amusing to know that while you grow stronger, I benefit as well.”

  She gestured toward the tree.

  The Hammya inside it had returned to sleep—still, protected.

  “But there can only be one. And she…” the green figure smiled, “is mine. Do whatever you like. No problem. Just make it fast.”

  Hammya inclined her head in a flawless bow.

  “Of course. I would never oppose you.”

  She raised her gaze.

  “After all, I don’t want trouble with a goddess.”

  “Well said,” the green figure replied. “Now you may go. I’ll take care of this little information leak.”

  “As you wish,” Hammya answered with a smile.

  The green figure approached her, circling slowly, inspecting her with shameless curiosity.

  “What?” Hammya asked, uneasy.

  “Nothing,” the figure replied. “I look good.”

  Then she glanced toward the tree, where the other Hammya remained.

  “My, that seed… In five years it will be a delicious fruit. I can’t wait to see it… and taste it.”

  Hammya frowned.

  “You’re still as creepy as the first time I met you.”

  “Yes, I hear that often. Well then… bye-bye.”

  She clapped.

  Everything vanished.

  Hammya awoke in the room.

  She was alone.

  She sat up abruptly, pressing a hand to her head.

  “God… that was rough.”

  “Oh, that was quick,” Nyrvana said casually.

  She was seated nearby, sipping tea and enjoying a few pastries.

  Hammya stood and walked over to her. Nyrvana watched her curiously but said nothing. Hammya reached over, took a couple of cookies from Nyrvana’s plate, and began eating them.

  “Gods, you’re shameless.”

  “Trust me, it’s temporary,” Hammya replied with her mouth full.

  Nyrvana smiled and slid a separate plate toward her.

  “I like your attitude.”

  “As I said… temporary.”

  Hammya scanned the room. Her friends were still within their trials, eyes closed, hands linked. She stopped beside Candado and gently brushed his face.

  Nyrvana noticed.

  But said nothing.

  Hammya stepped away and moved toward the window.

  “Now we wait.”

  “Of course,” Nyrvana replied. “Would you like to sit?”

  “It’s free. Absolutely.”

  Time passed.

  Nearly an hour later, while Hammya rested against the wall staring outside, Declan awoke.

  He did so abruptly.

  As if he had returned from very far away.

  Air rushed into his lungs. His body reacted first—ragged breathing, tense muscles, fingers searching instinctively for a hilt. It took him a second to recognize the ceiling, the shadows, the temperature.

  Nyrvana’s room.

  His pulse hammered in his ears.

  He turned his head. The shapes organized themselves. Walls. Dim light. Familiar presences.

  He noticed Hammya was already awake, leaning against the wall, watching him with a mixture of attention and restrained care.

  Declan did not speak immediately. He gave no speech. He did not explain what he had seen. He did not share what he remembered.

  He took one step forward. Then another.

  And placed his hand on Candado’s shoulder—with respect, certainty, permanence.

  “I’m here, sir.”

  After several long minutes, Clementina awoke as well—visibly shaken, which surprised Declan.

  She looked around: Hammya and Declan were awake. Sara, Héctor, and Candado still slept.

  Declan approached cautiously.

  “Are you all right?”

  Clementina scanned the group, verifying vital signs, states of consciousness, breathing. Everything was stable.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “He’s still in his trial.”

  Declan paused.

  “Did you pass?”

  “I don’t know,” Clementina replied. “It said it had seen enough… and then it left.”

  “And you?”

  Clementina smiled.

  It was not wide. Not mechanical.

  It was small. Calm. Genuine.

  “I suppose I did.”

  She walked over to Candado.

  Carefully, she took his hand. From a short distance away, Hammya watched the scene and smiled softly, as if she understood something that had not yet been spoken aloud.

  Clementina gently removed Candado’s beret and placed it on her lap. Then she intertwined her fingers with his once more.

  She leaned forward slightly.

  “I finished my trial, young master,” she whispered. “I’m waiting for you.”

  Declan smiled and sat down beside Candado.

  “Both of us are.”

  Hammya watched them with quiet tenderness, then turned her gaze back toward the window.

  “I promise you… this time, everything will go well,” she whispered. “I swear it. Please, finish your trial and come back. I still miss you.”

  As Hammya stood by the window, a voice suddenly broke the silence.

  “Damn… that was the craziest experience of my entire short life.”

  It was Héctor.

  Everyone turned toward him at once—including Hammya. Héctor was standing, still disoriented, his body tense, his expression that of someone who had returned from a place he could not fully explain.

  He blinked a couple of times, as if confirming that the world was still in place.

  Then he looked at the others.

  “Oh… hi,” he said, raising a hand. “How’d it go for you guys?”

  The absurd normality of the question took barely a second to register.

  Then everyone in the room laughed.

  It wasn’t loud or exaggerated. It was the kind of shared laughter that surfaces when the body finally releases tension it no longer knows how to carry.

  Hammya smiled too.