In the heart of Aurthora, where shadows danced upon the walls of time, two men were talking. One of them was laughing. A laugh too loud… more than it should be.
Serine narrowed her eyes. Why was he laughing? There was nothing in their conversation that warranted it. In fact… there was nothing in their lives that warranted it.
She kept walking, but the thought would not leave her. She did not know where it had come from, but she felt it was true. And that frightened her.
"Finally… you are starting to notice."
She froze. The voice came from above.
Slowly, she raised her head. There… on the edge of a low wall, sat a man as though the world beneath him was nothing but an unimportant idea. He was looking at her. No, he was not looking… he was watching.
"Who are you?" she asked, in a voice she did not like.
He smiled. "That is not the first question you should be asking."
Then he jumped off the edge lightly, as if gravity had chosen not to work on him. He approached her. He was not directly frightening… and that is what made him more unsettling.
"My name is Craiven," he said, tilting his head slightly. "And you look like someone who has started to see the cracks."
"I do not know what you are talking about."
He laughed. A short, dry laugh, as if it needed no reason.
"Of course you do not. No one knows… at first."
He circled her slowly, as if examining an idea, not a human being.
"Let me ask you a simple question… Do you feel that everything is… normal?"
She was silent.
She could have said "yes." That would have been the right answer. The expected one. The safe one.
But "no" came out before she could think.
He fell silent. Then he laughed again, but this time… there was something in his voice that resembled satisfaction.
"Beautiful… very beautiful. Most people lie here. You do not have to be like them."
"I do not lie."
"We all do." He stepped closer. "The only difference is… we do not call it a lie."
She stepped back. "What do you want?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Look at you… straight into fear."
"I am not afraid."
"You do not even know what you should be afraid of yet."
She hated the way he spoke. As if every word was not an opinion… but a verdict.
"Listen," he said, raising his hands slightly, "I am not your enemy."
"That is what everyone says before they become one."
He smiled. "No… the real enemies do not waste their time talking. They are there."
He pointed to the city around them.
She looked around. The people… walking, talking, smiling. Ordinary life.
"What about them?"
He leaned close and whispered: "Not a single one of them sees what you see now."
She froze. "I see nothing."
"Exactly."
A heavy moment of silence passed. Then…
"Do you want to see?"
She looked into his eyes. There was no madness in them. No evil. But something worse: truth.
"See what?"
"The truth."
"No." She said it quickly. Instinctively.
"A wise decision," he said immediately. "The truth is usually not worth the price. But the door remains open… for those who wish to regret."
"Then why offer it?"
He laughed lightly. "I do not offer it… I only open the door. People are the ones who decide to enter. And most of the time… they regret it."
She was silent. Something inside her was telling her: leave. Now.
But… "Why me?" she asked.
He looked at her for a few seconds. Then he said quietly: "Because you noticed the laugh."
Something trembled inside her. "What laugh?"
He gestured with his head toward the back. The two men… they were still there. One of them was still laughing. But now… his laughter seemed… empty. Like a sound without meaning.
"People do not notice the small details," said Craiven. "Because details lead to questions… and questions lead to things they do not want to know."
Then he looked directly at her: "And you… you asked."
"That means nothing."
"It means everything. The first crack… is always small. But it is enough to break a world."
A long silence. Then…
"If there is truth," she said slowly, "why does not everyone see it?"
He smiled. "Because humans do not want the truth."
"That is illogical."
"On the contrary… it is the most logical thing about them."
He looked at the sky. The broken moon was watching in silence.
"The truth is heavy. And humans… can barely carry themselves."
Then his gaze returned to her.
"Do you think people want to know that they are living a lie? That their relationships… are fragile? That their happiness… is temporary? That they… are not as special as they think?"
He paused. Then he said quietly: "Ignorance is not weakness… sometimes it is mercy."
She did not answer. But she felt something slowly breaking inside her.
"Come," he said suddenly.
"Where?"
He pointed to a distant place, where a dark tower loomed on the horizon. "There… someone who loves truth more than I do."
"And that is supposed to reassure me?"
He laughed. "No. It is supposed to frighten you."
"Who is he?"
He looked at the tower. Then he said: "Someone who no longer sees anything… but the truth. The man who sees nothing but truth… is not human. He is truth walking."
He paused. Then added: "And believe me… that is not a good thing."
She hesitated. "I do not know you."
"Good."
"I do not trust you."
"Better."
"Then why should I follow you?"
He smiled slowly. And said: "Because you… will not be able to go back to who you were."
She looked at the city. Everything was as it had always been. But… it was no longer the same.
"That is the problem," said Craiven quietly. "Once you see the crack… you cannot pretend it does not exist."
She closed her eyes. Then opened them.
"Alright."
He smiled. Not in triumph… but in acknowledgment of something he had already known.
---
In the days that followed, Serine could not stop seeing the cracks. They appeared everywhere: in the corners of streets, in people's eyes, in the silence of the night.
She saw the smiling merchant's mask – beneath it, accumulated greed and endless loneliness. She saw the loving mother's mask – beneath it, deep fear for her children's future in a world she did not understand. She saw the brave soldier's mask – beneath it, cowardice that wished it had never been born.
She did not know that this was an innate ability for "true seeing." She thought it was merely excessive sensitivity, or an overactive imagination – a curse that made her see what should not be seen.
Serine sighed, feeling the weight of this vague awareness. She wished she could be like others, accept the illusion as truth, wear a tight mask and live in false peace.
But something inside her refused.
"Masks, Serine," Craiven had told her before he disappeared, "are not on faces. Masks are in minds. People do not wear them… people live in them."
---
One night, while the city was drowned in its sleep full of illusions, Serine felt a strong pull toward the crack that Craiven had pointed out in the market. The crack had widened slightly, and the cold flicker emanating from it had become more visible, as if it pulsed with a life of its own.
She approached it cautiously. She slowly extended her hand and felt an intense cold pierce her skin – a cold that was not physical, but rather the cold of absolute existence.
Then she heard something: a faint pulse, like a heart beating behind the wall. Or perhaps it was her own heartbeat.
"Is this the freedom he spoke of?" she whispered to herself. "The freedom to face the truth, no matter how harsh?"
At that moment, Craiven appeared again, as if reading her thoughts, or as if he were part of the crack itself.
"Cracks are not just gateways, Serine," he said. "They are mirrors. They reflect what lies within you. Are you ready to see your true reflection?"
"And what is on the other side?"
"The truth. With all its beauty and ugliness. But remember… truth comes at a price. The greater the truth you uncover, the higher the price you pay."
She looked at the crack, then at the sleeping city behind her. She could see the masks dancing even in sleep – illusions protecting people from a reality that might be devastating.
But she could no longer live in this illusion.
"I am ready," she said, her voice carrying a determination she did not know she possessed. "Ready to see the truth, no matter the cost."
She took her first step toward the crack.
She felt an intense cold pierce her body, as if crossing from one world to another, as if shedding everything she had ever known. There was no blinding light, no thunderous sounds – only a deep silence, the silence of truth that needs no noise to prove its existence.
When she had fully crossed the crack, she found herself in a narrow passage. Its walls were of cold black stone, and a strange smell filled the place – the smell of ancient dust and rust, the smell of forgotten time.
Craiven stood beside her.
"Welcome to the other side, Serine. The tower awaits. And Ilthar awaits. And the truth awaits."
She looked ahead, into the darkness that swallowed the passage. She felt fear, but she also felt excitement – the excitement of discovery, the excitement of the unknown.
This was the beginning of her true journey.
Serine was the key. She was the greatest crack. She was the awareness that would awaken Aurthora – or shatter it.
This was the beginning of the end. Or the beginning of truth. No one knew yet. Even the cracks were silent.
---