S-2878 • L7 Uneluna • D03 Silensina
"Uneluna unites sky and earth in a new thread. Silensina kindles a beginning in resonance. The tide traces silver in light steps. The story continues clear, in growing light."
The Festival of Souls had arrived.
I put on my costume and studied myself, impressed. The idea of being a raft sailor was actually exciting. If nothing worked out, I could become one with Maia. I smiled at my own silliness.
The central streets bustled. Bunting glowed with phosphorescent light, each flag bearing mythical figures: Curupiras, Boitatás, Iaras, and Botos. Urban ghosts, those who had become legends, took shape at asphalt crossroads. Lanterns floated through the air like curious spirits, flashing messages: "Honor and celebrate those who came before"; "The night belongs to the enchanted"; "Let's dance and sing with the spirits of our ancestors"; "The bonfire warms the living and the dead."
Projections on old brick walls showed scenes from the past: Indigenous peoples dancing by the river, quilombola communities gathering in resistance, and washerwomen laughing as they told stories. Luminous graffiti across the façades changed with the music. Holobonfires had been lit in squares and alleyways, marking meeting places. Androids adorned with Indigenous body paintings fed the flames with fragrant herbs, while light flickered in the people's eyes, reflecting the warmth of a celebration that would always burn.
Maracás shook to the rhythm of the crowd. Drums splashed powerful notes that kindled in the chest like a collective heart. Accordions and rabecas mingled with electronic sound, creating a harmony only Brasil knew how to make. Shouts, whistles, laughter, clapping, and the stamps of feet against earth and stone intertwined. Children laughed between demands for treats and mischief.
Popcorn burst in iron pots. The aroma of sweet cauim mingled with roasted corn, wood smoke, and burning leaves. A fragrance of bonfire and wet earth. Jasmine and night-blooming cestrum exuded mystery. Crunchy pé-de-moleque and sugarcane molasses spilled over fingers. Steaming broths warmed people to the bone, while stuffed beiju, buttery farofa, and shredded dried meat in intense seasonings shared space with candied fruits, fruit preserves, and hot fritters. There was the bitterness of cassava cauim and the subtle sweetness of fermented drinks.
The ground was rough. Stone. Earth. History. Costumes ranged from film and cartoon characters to termite heads, werewolves, ocelots, warriors, forest spirits, media icons, guides, wise women, celebrities, and even politicians. The textures of garments mingled with the warmth of skin brushing in the crowd, the sweat of dancing bodies, and the shivers brought on by passing through the mists of spiritual projections. Clasped hands, intertwined fingers, the warmth of that moment.
More than watching the celebration, the people WERE the celebration.
The Festival of Souls was an outward event and, within, a spirit that always lived. It was my first time celebrating the holiday. My eyes filled with wonder, and I lost myself trying to find Maia amid the visual overload.
Except she was unmistakable. She leaned against a wall, arms crossed and eyes feral. I wove through the crowd until I reached her.
"Phew."
When she saw me, Maia gave me a charming smile. "Got lost? Thought so."
"So many people." I stared at the crowd. She raised an eyebrow knowingly.
"Yeah, everyone loves the Festival of Souls. A day to celebrate those who came before. To remember that everyone remains in some way."
I pursed my lips. When she put it that way…
"What are we gonna do?"
I lowered my eyes. "I didn't give that part much thought."
Maia took my hand and laughed. "Alright, let's find something."
We plunged into the crowd and somehow ended up on a tour.
"Do you know the origins of the Festival of Souls?" asked an android dressed as a pajé, leading the group. "I'll tell you. Have you heard of Kuarup? No? Historians tell us that, since ancestral times, Indigenous peoples celebrated rituals such as Kuarup. A festival honoring the spirits of their ancestors…"
"Hmm… interesting. Better get outta here before they notice we didn't pay for this tour," Maia said, a smile in her voice.
We slipped away and crossed the avenue.
"Ah, the Cauim Festival is happening here." I pointed at the enormous festival logo.
"Wanna go? We need tickets."
"We can buy them through the biochip." I studied the informational holoscreen.
"You have one? I mean… a biochip?" Maia frowned.
"It's rare not to. They're implanted at birth."
"I-I dislike those things…" She scratched her neck, as though embarrassed. "I don't have one…"
That much I already knew. But I would have liked to know why. "Does the idea of tiny little nanites inside you bother you?"
Maia shook her head but said nothing more. Another mystery for the list.
I bought the tickets, and we entered the Cauim Festival.
The heat of the nanobonfires mingled with the cool night breeze. Hundreds of bowls gleamed beneath torchlight and neon, reflecting the ancestral liquid's gold. Music resounded through the streets, and maracás shook in time with the dancers' rhythmic steps. The aroma of the fermented drink blended with the fragrance of burning wood. Fresh fruit, cut into thin slices, was served as an offering to those celebrating.
Maia and I walked among the stalls, absorbing the festival's energy. Wooden flooring creaked beneath our feet in some stretches, while elsewhere, soft earth absorbed our steps like a warm embrace. Corn kernels popped in iron drums, and the crunch of freshly made beiju crackled in the air.
Stalls selling traditional drinks dominated the streets. Stone and clay stoves steamed, releasing fragrances of Indigenous spices and recipes passed down through generations. The buttery scent of hot farofa, the sweetness of dripping molasses, the smoky touch of grilled meat. Every dish seemed laden with memories, with living stories that melted in the mouth.
"So many options." I inhaled the fragrant air.
"There." Maia pointed at an enormous bar, Órbita Bar. "Wanna go? They serve all kinds of craft drinks."
We sat at the counter. A master brewer swirled a fruit cauim, the thick drink moving in its bowl like a river of flowing bronze. On the floating holomenu, each drink vibrated in different colors:
🌞 Cauim Solara, warm and citrusy, awakening the soul;
🌑 Cauim Lunara, sweet and woody, for dreams and secrets;
🔥 Cauim Sylthar, strong and spicy, made for those who dare to dance with courage;
💨 Cauim Airan, light and refreshing, ideal for conversations and connections.
I winked at Maia. Each cauim seemed to carry a spell. "What do you think?"
"Sylthar for me." She smiled in challenge.
"Lunara for me." I chose my drink, feeling a shiver as I held the bowl. "Each one holds a liter?" I turned the vessel in my hands, laughing. "You're going to have to take care of me."
"Yeah, I know." Maia shook her head.
I elbowed her.
"What? You know it's true." She teased me charmingly.
I wrinkled my nose.
We took our first sip together. The cauim's heat flowed like lava through my chest, its velvety texture caressing my tongue before the burn emerged. My lips were stained a deep reddish purple, while Maia's eyes shone like dancing embers.
And suddenly, the celebration was more than a celebration.
Neon became magical trails, like fireflies playing in the air. Laughter echoed more intensely, like friendly thunder in a starry sky, and bonfire smoke seemed to intertwine with the dancers' steps. It was as though time itself slowed, leaving every detail marked on the skin.
Maia tugged my hand and guided me among musicians playing flutes, rabecas, and pandeiros. The zabumba's beat reverberated in our bones. Her steps were feline, assured. An invitation. The lanterns flickered like the eyes of spirits watching us.
And for a moment, I forgot everything. The city. The research. The laws. The invisible war in the sky. There was only her. Her breathing. Her hand guiding mine. And me, finally feeling that I belonged to something.
Every turn brought a new experience around us. We passed a circle of storytellers whose ancestral voices recounted legends by the glow of embers. Nearby, women with skin dyed in urucum wove invisible threads in the air. Their nimble hands intertwined colors and destinies as they sang ancient songs.
At the festival's crossroads, a masked dancer spun in hypnotic movements. His feet touched the ground in interwoven rhythms, as though he existed on another plane.
And amid it all, there were the two of us. Smiling, eyes meeting, bowls in hand, breathing the night as though it belonged to us. The celebration was pure feeling. Experience. Spirit. Brazil alive.
I knew it was inescapable. I was completely, hopelessly, dangerously in love with Maia. Was I really allowed to be this happy? I embraced her and rested my chin against her chest. "You seem like someone who belongs to another world. Sometimes I wonder if you're real."
Her honey-colored eyes met mine. "Think I'm an alien?"
"You know what I mean…" I rolled my eyes.
We continued our stroll. The festival's music remained vibrant, but my attention rested on the rhythm of Maia's steps beside me. Along the path between the floating lanterns, light and shadow mingled like a whisper between worlds.
"Has anyone close to you ever… passed on?" Her voice came like a thought spoken aloud, loose in the warm night breeze.
I blinked, surprised. "Me? No… I've witnessed many departures, but none close to me."
My answer seemed to weigh strangely in the air. Maia's silence was heavier still.
I turned to look at her. "And you?"
She remained silent. Her eyes merely shifted toward the trembling flame of a nearby lantern, as though she found something in the fire that words could never express.
Why that question now? I wanted to press her. Wanted to understand. But intuition told me the time was wrong.
We kept walking. The sound of her footsteps on the earth seemed to guide the way, and I followed. The crowd gradually fell behind until we found ourselves before a different space, wrapped in a silence unlike the festival's other corners.
A ritual sanctuary.
Hundreds of candles stood in stone niches and on wooden altars decorated with colorful ribbons. Small objects had been left around them: holophotos, holonotes, fruits, and flowers. Tributes to those already on another plane.
Maia stopped before one of the altars. She took a match from her pocket and struck it against the stone. The scent of the newly lit flame mingled with the fragrance of herbs burning in the wind. She lit three candles. Her gaze emanated reverence, but something in her face seemed to close a little further, as though feeling those flames rekindled something within her.
I wanted to ask. Wanted to know the invisible names shining in the light of melting wax, but I remained quiet. After all, some things needed no words to be understood.
As the night went on, we left the event and wandered the streets. I staggered drunkenly, while Maia was pleasantly tipsy.
Children in costumes filled the streets, carrying their gourd baskets, accompanied by friends and androids.
I was far too uninhibited to hold my tongue. "Never went asking for treatsh or tricksh when I was little… My parentsh… wouldn't let me… I had… to shtudy… Watched them through… the window… Y'know… alwaysh… wanted to do that…" My body warmed with a flicker of anger.
I thought I'd gotten over that. Why was I talking about it?
Maia hugged me tightly and kissed my forehead. "I wasn't allowed either, but I liked sticking little paper fish on people's backs."
I looked up. It was the first time she'd shared something like that about herself. "Were you a mischievoush kid?"
"More or less. I had fun." She smiled. I could almost see the memory passing.
"Nobody caught you?"
"No. They suspected, but they never proved it was me. That never stopped them from…" Her expression darkened, and her eyes narrowed as she looked toward the horizon. Maia concealed a powerful force, an indecipherable feeling.
I pinched myself to hold back the question. I had to be patient. Whenever she mentioned even a little about herself, my insides erupted in celebration. "Woooow… sho stealthy!"
Maia smiled. A smile of apology and gratitude. A "thank you for understanding." How did she convey an infinity of intangible messages through an unassuming smile? For me, it was enough.
We watched the streets full of little ones.
"You two!" A girl wearing dark feathers stopped us, raising a hand. Behind her stood two friends and an android, dressed as Curupira Hunters.
"I'm Matintapereira! Give us treats, or I'll haunt you for the rest of your lives!"
Maia and I exchanged a glance.
She crouched. "What makes you think you could haunt the Raft Queens of the Seas?"
I frowned and laughed inwardly. Where did she come up with these things?
The girl blushed. "You're the Queens of the Seas?"
"Of course. We're using the Festival of Souls to disguise ourselves and observe mortal life."
The girl turned and whispered to the group. Then she faced us again. "Alright, we'll let you pass, but only because you're the Queens of the Seas."
Ah, so cute. I thought about how tiresome I must have been, refusing to believe in anything.
"Very well." Maia stood. The children and the android cleared a path, then ran off laughing.
"Let's scare the others!" they shouted in unison.
I sighed, enchanted, and looked at Maia.
It was like those stories of mermaids who seduced with their songs. Through veils, that invisible, intense force reached me. I would dance with her mysteries. I wanted to become more and more entwined. It was wild and inevitable. I really had fallen in love with… My lips parted, almost saying it.
"Hey, wanna head home?" Maia held my hand tenderly.
I emerged from my reverie, still dizzy. The music around us was already distant, and the laughter, joyful shouts, and crackling bonfires dissolved in the glow of her eyes. I was completely at her mercy. And Maia knew it. "C-'courshe… Wanna come w' me?"
She smiled. "I do."
A simple answer, yet it struck me like thunder.