Chapter 1: To awaken

1

I will tell you a story that has already been recounted. One of those that are repeated word by word in every book, every text, every tale. Filled with characters, I'm not sure if it's worth portraying again. However, my story is different from those that didn't dare to reveal the facts as they really were, perhaps out of habit or maybe out of ignorance; I don't know. I prefer to tell you a truth that, I assure you, is much more glorious for its earthly nature than for its incorrect divinity, though it's impossible to ignore the fantastic details that characterized it.

Our story didn't truly begin on November 17th, but you could say that date was much more significant than the events that preceded it because on that day, Alexandria awoke from a lethargy that promised to be endless. For two years, she had kept herself away from her reality, living in her own mirage and pretending to find enough satisfaction to continue fantasizing. Deep inside her heart, she knew the fairy tale couldn't last much longer. She carried with her an inheritance she had to honor. However, our lives don't always align with our desires, and free will, perhaps the most valuable of our liberties, can turn against our fragile destiny.

She shared her false reality with her partner, an immature jester named Brennen, hailing from Ireland. The miserable fellow had run away with her towards the South, leaving his fiancée a month before their wedding, something Brennen would have never been capable of doing before meeting her. Far from the stress such a situation might inflict on an ordinary human being, Brennen's optimism and childlike indifference towards 'duty' kept clouding the irresponsible Alexandria, who had decided to turn her back on her family in search of a simpler life.

On November 17th, they were in the Irishman's workshop, arguing, as had become their custom, when the fury of the underworld made itself felt with all its strength a few minutes past one in the morning. Brennen fell unconscious after being struck by some wooden planks that came loose from the upper shelves of his workshop, and upon realizing that he wasn't responding, Alexandria decided to get him out of there, despite debris continuing to fall around them. She lifted him by the armpits, dragged him in search of an exit, and finally managed to reach the street and put him to safety once the shaking had already subsided.

Wiping the dust from her eyes, she was left in shock; the post-war image was devastating. There were injured people screaming and running disoriented in any direction her eyes took. Confusion bewildered her; the street had disappeared, submerged under debris and darkness. She lifted Brennen as best she could and headed towards where her instinct guided her. For a few minutes, she dragged that lifeless weight on her back until she fell to her knees on the ground, exhausted. She sensed someone taking Brennen, and then everything went black.

There are two ways of dying, you know? One ambushes you suddenly, catching you off guard. In this one, you review all the moments you’ve lived in an instant, and an overwhelming chill invades your body. Then, after a few seconds, the absolute nothingness wraps around you, and you disappear. There's another one... Many prefer it. It comes slowly in an intense heat, like a huge and delicate embrace. It caresses each one of your pores, and amid red and orange lights, it passes before you like an incandescent flash. Everything, in a harmonious symphony, prepares you to disappear. Whether cold or heat, in both cases, and regardless of the process, the outcome is the same. And then I wonder: Why do we, humans, insist so much on believing in reincarnation? What makes us vehemently assert that we'll have another chance when everything seems to indicate only nothingness remains afterward?

At around three in the morning, Alexandria was taken to a long hallway at the Hospital of Clinics, where she was seated with the other earthquake victims who were out of danger, they covered her with a blue polar fleece blanket, and it was in that hallway where she finally woke up.

One of the E.R. doctors caught her attention. He strolled through the place, patiently attending to each person who was in need of him. His demeanor, his carefree walk, and his relaxed expression contrasted with the scene of miserable sadness. She saw him smile and speak casually, as if nothing extraordinary were happening. That tall man with piercing blue eyes and wavy black hair stood out among the cluster of unhappy individuals filling the room with sorrow. His mere presence brought back memories deeply stored in her mind—joys and sufferings trapped in her subconscious.

She averted her eyes from him to confront her reality. The truth was she knew those faces; the dirt on them was merely a manifestation of how defenseless we are. She knew those faces from another life; she knew the suffering and helplessness they provoked in her.

She was startled when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but after hearing the doctor's warm voice calling her, her gloomy thoughts faded away. She turned, and suddenly their eyes met. The endless blue filling her gaze brought back the memory of that ancient soul, like the jolt she needed to awaken.

She couldn't quite understand what he was saying, as she was left bewildered. "What did you say?" she asked the stranger, and after swallowing, she tried to compose herself. "You... said something," she muttered.

The accent surprised the doctor, even though he had noticed something different about her from a distance. "I asked if you need anything. Are you feeling alright?"