The sun gave off a gentle spring warmth. The wind carried the smell of grass and damp wood.

  He looked at his hands, then touched his face, amazed by the sensations that felt so "real."

  He walked, ran, and tried, under the curious gaze of his ostrich, to do a cartwheel. He fell and laughed heartily.

  He couldn't believe what was happening to him. He never imagined this kind of technology could exist. It was crazy.

  He got up and glanced around. Behind him was the forest. There was no sign of the creatures he had seen.

  "Wait here, buddy," he said, patting the animal on the neck, which snapped its beak.

  He took a few steps. Immediately, the undergrowth enveloped him. The smell of dampness surrounded him. He didn't know where to go. He turned around.

  In front of him was a dirt path. He looked up and decided to test the capabilities of that virtual body.

  Perched on the branch of a large poplar tree, he scanned the road winding through the hills. A few sparse groves and small farms dotted the landscape. In the distance, someone was traveling.

  Maybe they're other players, he thought.

  He jumped down and set off.

  He rode for most of the morning, the wind in his hair, under the midday sun beating down hard.

  His stomach growled. He laughed. He didn't believe you could feel hungry in a video game.

  In the distance, he saw a thatched-roof house, not far from the road. He decided to stop.

  The house was small and pretty. Flowered curtains fluttered in the wind at the windows. In front of the door, among the chickens, a child less than a year old was crawling. He saw an old donkey tied to a post, grazing on the sparse grass.

  He dismounted from the ostrich and tied it to the same post.

  The ostrich impulsively threw its head into the trough. The donkey raised its tired gaze for a moment, then went back to grazing.

  A child's voice teased him:

  "Who are you?"

  He turned around. It was a boy of about seven, with alert green eyes set in a round face, reddened by the sun.

  "Are you going to steal our donkey?" The boy pursed his lips, leaning forward slightly as if to defend the animal.

  "Um, no. I would never do that."

  But the boy's gaze remained hard, suspicious, as if waiting for the slightest false move.

  Another child's voice intervened: "Hey Robbie, who are you talking to?"

  He turned around. Behind him stood a girl of eight, maybe nine.

  She was clutching some potatoes in her hands.

  "Mom! Robbie's talking to a boy out here!" She shouted toward the house, then stared at him, clutching the potatoes tightly, as if they were an improvised weapon.

  "Who are you? And why are you here?"

  The door creaked and a thin young woman came out, her face flushed, drying her hands on her apron. Her gaze was a mixture of distrust and curiosity.

  "Hello, traveler. Where are you from and where are you headed?" she asked, brushing a strand of long straw-blonde hair from her forehead.

  A loud cough horrified the whole family. "Marta, who is that?" asked a hoarse male voice from inside the small house.

  The woman took the smallest of the three children in her arms, who protested by waving his little fists. "A dear traveler," she said, turning toward the door.

  "Let him in. Never let it be said that the Carews are not hospitable to strangers."

  Nico stood in the small kitchen, observing the busy life of that family. When he had tried Bruno's video games, he had never seen such realism. And it wasn't just the sounds or smells that left him incredulous. These people didn't just perform programmed movements, returning to the starting point in a perpetual loop. No, they were living their lives. Nico watched the blonde woman peel potatoes while the older girl helped her in the kitchen. The boy, who seemed unconvinced by his presence, moved from the pantry to the table, glancing sideways at him.

  "So... from Isildur?" Jacob asked, hugging Samuel close before coughing.

  Nico looked down. "Yes, sir."

  Jacob frowned. "Never heard of it."

  "Honey, stop it. You're embarrassing him," said Marta. "Come in, Grempasso." Marta smiled at him, looking down at her husband. "Excuse him, he talks too much."

  In fact, he was rather embarrassed. The realism of the game had captivated him so much that he forgot to create a character. In a panic, he copied a name from one of the most famous fantasy novels. He reopened the screen and read:

  Name: Grampasso

  Origin: Isildur

  Class: Ranger

  Equipment: None

  Familiar Name: None

  He thought about staying in character, and immediately the text changed:

  Familiar Name: Roheryn

  He laughed.

  "What are you laughing at?" Robbie asked, puzzled.

  The screen disappeared.

  "Nothing," said Nico, waving his hand.

  "Robbie, don't be rude to our friend," his mother scolded him.

  "But Mom..."

  "No buts. Come on, everyone, let's eat."

  Sitting at the table, Nico felt uncomfortable. He knew that behind those faces there was only code, but the idea of taking food away from that family still weighed heavily on him. The table was modestly set with bread, cheese, and eggs. Jacob prayed to his ancestors, blessed those present, and gave thanks for the fruits to come.

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  The children pounced on the food like hawks, eating heartily, and even Robbie's prickly character softened as Nico told him, between mouthfuls, about his past adventures, or rather those of Grampasso, followed by the attentive eyes of Marta and Jacob.

  A new coughing fit struck the man, bending him double in his chair.

  His wife jumped to her feet, followed by Nico.

  "Come, dear," murmured the woman, supporting her husband, "you've been standing too long. You must lie down."

  Nico was frozen. The woman knelt, staring fearfully at her husband in bed, seized by a new coughing fit. The children looked terrified. The youngest began to cry, and little Molly took him in her arms and carried him outside. Less than a minute later, the little girl returned with a man in light armor.

  Marta stood up, her face tense: "Hello, traveler, how can we help you?"

  The man, in his thirties with a stubbly, unkempt beard, stood to attention. He held a letter with a blue wax seal in his hands. "I am here to deliver a summons for Jacob Carew. All families in the kingdom must offer one man to fight against the Evil that is gripping the great kingdom of Darsis."

  "But that's not possible," said Marta apprehensively. "My husband..."

  "Marta, my love, don't bring shame upon me," said Jacob, struggling to suppress another coughing fit as he got out of bed.

  "Come, sit at my table, brother soldier," said Jacob, walking towards the man and pointing to a chair. "Eat, drink, and find refreshment from the hardships of your journey."

  The man nodded. "You call me brother. Have you been a soldier too?"

  "Who hasn't been one in these turbulent times?" said Jacob with a smile, extending his hand to the soldier.

  The man shook his hand and nodded, then sat down, placing the letter on the table.

  Marta sent the children outside and whispered to Nico to sit down again while she checked the potato soup. Nico thought that perhaps this was to be their dinner. She served a plate to the newcomer, then to Nico, who refused, and finally to her husband.

  "What's going on?" asked Jacob, staring at the man.

  Nico stared at him as he chewed his bread noisily and gulped down the still-hot soup. Then the man shook his head, as if he were carrying something too heavy to say inside him.

  "They call it Nothingness," said the soldier, putting another spoonful in his mouth.

  Marta put her hand to her mouth, her eyes wide. "So it's true?"

  "I'm afraid so. What do you know about it?" asked the soldier, tearing off a piece of bread and dipping it in the soup.

  Jacob looked at his wife. Marta had tears in her eyes. He took her hand. "We've heard things, mostly. About a month ago, a merchant passed through here with his cart. He told us that beyond the forest, southeast of here, a village had been swallowed up by the blackest darkness, from one day to the next. One day it was there, the next it was gone."

  The soldier nodded, staring into Jacob's eyes with the look of someone who knows.

  "Did you see it?" Nico asked, joining the conversation.

  "Yes, boy, I saw it," said the man. His eyes looked at him without seeing him, fixed on something else. "No one is safe out here. It can happen anywhere, anytime. No one knows where it comes from or where those who are taken go. The only safe stronghold is Taynor, but if something happened to our King, we would all be lost."

  "So the summons is to fight something you don't know how to defeat?" Nico said in a burst of confusion.

  The soldier took offense: "It is not for you to know, boy. The King will certainly know what needs to be done and will tell those who respond to his call."

  Jacob, in a fierce outburst, stood up. "The Carew family will answer the call."

  Marta lowered her gaze. The soldier stood up. "Well, brother, thank you for your hospitality," he said, then bowed awkwardly to Marta. Everyone stood up and said goodbye to the man, who rode off on his horse.

  Nico watched the dust from the horse disappear down the road. Only then did he notice that Marta was sobbing, her face hidden in her hands.

  "Come on, my light, be strong," said Jacob, hugging his wife.

  "Dad can't. I'll get the letter," said Robbie, bursting into the house, his eyes red. "I'll go to Taynor."

  The letter was not mentioned again for the rest of the day, and in the evening, when he retired to the dilapidated barn to rest a little before resuming his journey the next day, the decision had already been made: he would go in Jacob's place.

  On the back of Roheryn, the letter in his pocket, he had walked all day, stopping only occasionally near a stream or some shade to refresh himself by eating bread and cheese from the small bundle Marta had prepared the night before or, incredible but true, to empty his bladder. That game was all too realistic.

  The road was deserted. Only in the early afternoon had he met a man with a cart going in the opposite direction. The man had told him that this was not the road to Taynor. They had traveled a stretch of road together, then he had continued on his way. As the sun was about to set and he was starting to look for a place to camp, he saw a fire behind a clump of rhododendrons. Nico's eyes widened: around the fire were figures he could never have imagined. One... seemed to be made of stone, solid and gray. Next to it was a strange lantern that moved on its own, with thin wrought-iron arms and legs. And then there was a small creature covered in scales, its head adorned with tentacles that hung down like an alien beard.

  He approached.

  "We have visitors," whispered a flute-like voice behind him. He turned abruptly. He met the ethereal face of a young girl and jumped, falling off the ostrich.

  "Dylph, when will you stop?" said a voice as thunderous as a rock falling from a ridge, with stern irony. Giant footsteps came in his direction.

  "Is everything all right, my young friend?" asked the big man of rock, booming.

  "Everything's fine," said Nico, grabbing a finger of the big hand.

  "Come, sit with us," said the lantern, fixing him with the bright, lively gaze of two blue flames.

  "Thank you," murmured Nico as he tied Roheryn to a low branch. He sat down.

  "So, a quick introduction: you already know Dylph."

  The ethereal girl waved her hand, a light breeze rose, and the fire crackled for a moment.

  "My name is Broow. This sweet, luminous creature is Cass."

  "Oh, thank you so much, Broow," said the lantern, emitting a sound similar to the crackling of burning wood.

  "And last but not least, Flog," she said, pointing to the old fish man.

  "Hello, everyone, I'm Grampasso."

  "Nice..." muttered Broow. "Great name, really great name."

  "So, kid, where are you headed?" asked Flog's muffled voice.

  "Um, I'm headed to Taynor."

  "By Jove, we're going to Taynor too."

  "Of course he's going to Taynor," said Dylph, annoyed. "Who isn't these days?"

  "True, too true," said Broow, shaking his head loudly.

  "So you know why we've been summoned?" asked Cass, with a mixture of curiosity and fear.

  "The Nothing. Right?"

  "Shh. It might hear us," whispered Broow, his voice echoing all around. Dylph shook his head as he looked at his companion.

  "Sorry," whispered Nico. "Why? Have you been summoned too?"

  "Everyone except me," said Broow.

  "And why is that?" asked Nico.

  Broow shook his head and stood up, walking a few steps away from the camp. His voice became dark, hoarse like broken stone.

  "On my 185th birthday, I was finally allowed to leave the village. It was my first night alone, and I felt big, strong... free. I couldn't wait to get home and tell everyone. But when I returned..." He hesitated, his huge hands clenched into fists. "There was nothing left. No smoke from the chimneys, no voices of my brothers. Just a black, living void that had devoured houses, roads, mountains. Even the voices of my ancestors. Everything... gone."

  He took a deep breath, which echoed like a muffled thunderclap.

  "If I had stayed, it would have happened to me too. Sometimes I think I should have been there. That maybe that was my place, to disappear with them.

  But I was away, and I was left alone. Since then, I've been walking, looking for someone who remembers that my people really existed."

  Dylph looked at him silently, with a hint of pity that he didn't dare show too openly. Cass lowered the flames as if to keep him company in his grief.

  "He wandered for months without knowing what to do until he met me, then Dylph, and finally Flog," Cass continued, to lighten the weight of his words.

  "How long have you been traveling?" Nico asked.

  Flog lowered his gaze. "Too long, kid. The Nothing moves faster than we do."

  Those words made Nico's blood run cold.

  A hollow, broken cry tore through the air: Broow.

  Then... the world stopped breathing. The fire went out as if crushed by an invisible fist, the wind stopped blowing, even the insects fell silent. An unnatural silence pierced his eardrums, so absolute that it seemed like noise.

  He turned around. It wasn't just a "black spot." In front of him, space twisted like water in a funnel, shadows bending and stretching, struggling to escape that empty center. A sphere of darkness pulsed and expanded, like ink spilled in water, but alive, fleshy, ravenous.

  Nico smelled something acrid, like burnt iron and rotten wood. The ground vibrated beneath his feet, his knees buckled, and a wave of dizziness forced him to sit down on the ground. He inhaled: the air was colder, as if winter had exploded in an instant.

  Roheryn snapped his beak, a silent sound, and a moment later he was gone: erased, dissolved like dust blown away. Cass stared at him, his fiery eyes wide open, his face contorted into a silent scream that did not reach his ears.

  Nico sprang up, tried to run, but each step was as heavy as moving through thick water. The bubble grew, and with it the silence. Then, suddenly, the absence of sound exploded into unbearable chaos: screams, wood breaking, the earth shaking as if it wanted to rebel.

  A chilling thought pierced him: What if the game was so realistic that it could destroy my real body too?

  The Nothingness was about to swallow him when a roar tore through the air.

  He saw Dylph, his eyes glowing, his arms stretched out like crystal arches. The air itself warped. A hurricane erupted from Dylph's body, lifting Nico off the ground and hurling him away, a rootless leaf at the mercy of the storm.

  The air was ripped from his lungs, his vision blurred with shadows that merged with the Nothingness.

  Then he fell into a bottomless silence.