Greece, Great Sanctuary, March 5, 2004, 10:10 am (Mar. 5, 8:10 AM, GMT +2:00)

Palace of Elision

Glaucus was glowing with joy. He slid an eye to his mistress, and felt definitely gained by a feeling of relief: two days had passed, and Ishara had showed no sign of madness. It had never happened since the transformation of Amalric, centuries ago. Was she on the way of healing? By what miracle?

Bàlint approached one of the gigantic pillars, the closest as possible to the throne of Persephone. He was intrigued by Apollo's unexpected request, and suspected the escapade of Ishara, two nights earlier, of being the reason for this visit.

The heavy doors of the throne room opened slowly, making way to Glaucus and Ishara. Apollo didn't pay attention to their arrival: he had felt a cold power, skipping into the throne room, and approaching Persephone. An extraordinary powerful aura that he had never felt before.

“Apollo, my nephew, they have just arrived... Glaucus and Ishara are waiting for your words” announced Persephone.

Apollo turned around and his eyes settled on Ishara. She wore a dark blue toga, which fit admirably the forms of her perfect body. Her long dark hair felt against her shoulders with grace.
Scolding himself for his weakness, Apollo slid his glance on Glaucus. The giant was looking somewhere else, apparently annoyed to be there.
 

If she was still human, the heart of Ishara would have jumped out of her chest: Apollo wore a blue rose, discreetly hung at his belt . When she raised her eyes, her glance crossed the red eyes of the God of music. She lowered her glance immediately, a strange sensation of dizziness having seized her. Then she heard the deep voice of Apollo rising.

“I came to ask Persephone for an audience, to be sure that you enjoy your stay in this temple. But also to make sure that you subscribe completely to our rules of behavior.”

Ishara forced her not to raise her eyes on Apollo, and slid a glance to Glaucus. He was still scratching of the foot an invisible pebble, affecting a detached expression.

“I shall just remind you one thing... You will be welcome in this Terrestrial Sanctuary as long as you respect the rules...”
Apollo broke off and stood straight ahead in front of Glaucus.

“Centurion, I would appreciate that you pay attention to what I'm saying...”

Glaucus raised the head and threw a resentful glance to Apollo. Ishara felt the tension rising, and intervened between them.

“God Apollo... We wish only one thing: stay in this sanctuary and live there, respectful of its customs and its rules. We are and will always be your humble servants.”

She bowed in front of him, her hair sweeping with grace her shoulders and her arms, whereas her toga spread around her.

Apollo looked at her, subjugated. These long hairs, floating in accordance with her veils of her toga. This aura, intoxicating, melancholic, yet powerful …He pulled himself together:

“If you wish to go in a temple outside the jurisdiction of my beloved aunt Persephone, it will be necessary to ask the authorization of the divinity governing this palace.”

At his feet, Ishara kept her graceful and subdued position. He was grateful to her for not raising the eyes on him. But he was hesitating: he wanted to hold out the hand, and to help Ishara to get up. To touch her.
 

“You can get up, night creature” said the God of Music.

These words struck Ishara, as a picket would have torn her chest. Nevertheless, she hid her disappointment in the depths of her mind, and stood up, keeping her face lowered.
 

Apollo regretted his words, but he knew he had no choice: he couldn't allow himself to show any feeling toward one of these creatures. At least, not in front of people of the Sanctuary... He thought that it was time to close the audience, and turned around to Persephone.

“Persephone, my aunt, this is the end of my speech. I think things are clear for everybody now. Allow me to withdraw from this place.”

He slightly tilted the head, and without waiting a sign from Persephone, moved back in the direction of the door. On his way, all bowed.

Apollo couldn't refrain himself from admiring the graceful reverence of Ishara. But once again, he forced to avoid the glance of the female vampire.

“Interesting... This relation that is growing between them... This crazy creature might serve me in the future!” murmured Bàlint.

He went away discreetly from his hiding place, getting back to one of the dark corridors of the Temple.
 

Apollo stopped on the threshold of the Throne Room. The cold aura he had felt just before the arrival of Glaucus and Ishara was going away from the throne of Persephone, living the room at the same time as he was. No, no more doubt was allowed: a third vampire was living in this place, and for an unknown reason, Persephone was hiding him to the rest of the Sanctuary.

Apollo carried a hand to his belt, trying to squeeze the button of rose he had hung to it. But the flower had disappeared. He turned around and saw it near a pillar, where it had fallen. Strangely, he stayed there, staring at the flower, which the delicate and rare color shone on the grey and lugubrious stairs of the temple.

The doors of the Throne room closed on this vision.

Ishara collected discreetly the rose and hid it in her bodice. A thorn grazed her skin, but she didn't take care. Despair had suddenly given way to Hope, and she couldn’t refrain a smile.

Japan, Headquarters of Ermengardis, March 5, 2004, 5:30 pm (Mar.5, 8:30 AM, GMT +9:00)

Pavilion Bishamonten, Main Lounge...

All the former Saints were already gathered in the center of the Lounge when Camus closed the door, making a small farewell sign to Ambre. He went to the centre of the lounge, casting a glance of excuse around him. He took place between Shura and Angelo, his face having resumed his usual expression of indifference.

“Well, So, if Camus has ended up his act of charm, we can start!” mocked Dohko.

Camus became immediately carmine red, which made his companions laugh. 

“Ok, let's stop joking. We have to elect a leader. Who wants to be candidate?”

The thirteen men stared at each others, looking for the courageous one to run for the position of leader.

“Sion, are you candidate?” asked Dohko.

But the Tibetan shook the head negatively:

“No thank you, Dohko. I prefer to stay aside, and be a kind of advisor, if you need it...”

“I see... Anybody else?”

“Saga!” shouted Canon, pushing his brother in the middle of the group.

“Ok, so Saga is the first candidate!” announced Dohko.

“No, Dohko, please wait!” protested Saga, trying to get back to the anonymity of the group. But his brother blocked him and pushed him slowly in the center of the assembly. Saga felt all the glances put on him, and would have liked being a mouse to disappear in a small hole of the ground.

“And why not Dohko, in that case!” answered Saga, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“If you want, I can be candidate!” conceded Dohko. “Other people interested?”

Everybody remained silent.

“Let's vote for our new leader!” Sion exclaimed. “People in favor of Dohko, please raise a hand!”

Aldebaran, Mu, Milo, Saga and Aiolia raised their arms. Their faces show their surprise when they saw their weak number.

“Good. Now, people in favor of Saga, please raise a hand!”

Camus, Angelo, Aphrodite, Canon, Shura, Shaka, Sion and Dohko raised a hand, to the very surprise of Saga himself.

“Good. At the majority, Saga is declared our official representative toward the Grand Master of Ermengardis” announced Sion.

Canon applauded while Saga threw him a desperate glance.

Milo approached discreetly Shaka as this one was to leave the Lounge.

“Shaka, I don't understand you!” he whispered at very low voice, so that Dohko, who was just a step from them, couldn't catch their conversation.

“What don't you understand?”

“Why did you give your vote to Saga? Do you rely on him after everything he had done? ”

Shaka sketched a smile :

“In a sense, yes...”

“But why?”

“Milo, if it had be necessary to elect the new Pope of the Sanctuary of Athena, no doubt that I would have given my vote to Dohko. But here we are, we do not elect the Pope, but the leader of a group of former gold saints, considered as renegades by the Great Sanctuary of Olympia, and who have just agreed to compromise themselves with an Order hated by the same Sanctuary. Order about which, by the way, they know nothing. Admit that our situation could be a little more comfortable … It's better to choose a leader who as a great experience in the matter of survival in difficult situations …”

Milo stayed open-mouthed in front of this explanation. Not that he was surprised. On the contrary, the words of Shaka were too obvious to protest.

“And we must recognize something: Saga has taken us in his plan, and we saw nothing during thirteen years, believing he was Sion. I think that he has proved his ability to take over difficult situations…” completed Shaka.

Milo closed his mouth that he had kept gaping, and walked away, before he admits to Shaka that he agreed with his reasoning.

Pavilion Bishamonten, James' office...

“As you know already, there is no squadron in Japan. I would like you to take over a mission in Tokyo, while you are on the Japanese territory” said James, pointing the three armchairs in front of him. Shina, Thetis and Ambre sat down silently, waiting that the Great Master that he carry on with his explanations.

“During the last 15 days, six young foreigners were found dead in clubs of Roppongi” he continued.

“Well, Roppongi, it's Roppongi... I mean... It's a place where you find corpses!” commented Ambre.

“Six deaths in 15 days, that's a lot... Even for Roppongi” objected Thetis.

“Miss, do you allow me to continue?” slid James, amused.

“Yes, of course... I suppose that they are not common deaths... Otherwise we wouldn't be there” answered Shina, already afraid of what James was going to ask them.

“That's right, the victims wore tracks of bites...”

“Don't say anything more! The next word you are going to pronounce starts by a "v" ?” sighed Ambre.

James threw her an amused glance.

“Yes... "V" as vampire, that's right. Our legist clearly identified the race of the murderer by the size of the bite and the position of the canines.”

“And you want us to stand about in the clubs of Roppongi, with the hope that the vampire will try to bite us?” added Shina, impatient to come to the real subject: the contents of their mission.

“Do you read in my mind, Shina?”

“That's funny... In the middle of all the blondes of Roppongi, Thetis will be like in her own family!” exclaimed Ambre.

“Hey! Let's talk about you, dear! With your look, hesitating between hostess and stripper, you're not going to stay alone too long!” mocked Thetis.

Ambre stick out her tongue, before asking:

“Why Marine isn't coming? That would make two red-haired girls against one and a half blonde...

“I asked her, as well as to Sorrento, to come back to their respective squadrons, and to prepare them for their absence. I shall ask you to make the same with the squadrons of Paris and Stockholm, once this mission is accomplished.”

“Ok, when do we have to leave for Tokyo?” asked Shina, really in haste to put an end to this meeting.

“You have to be on the field tomorrow evening... I shall appreciate that your diligence on this business... Because there is a lot to make here, with your friends, the former gold Saints. ”

“No problem!” sighed Shina.

“It won't take too long! This vampire is already a pile of dust!” exclaimed Ambre.

“I'm in! As long as Ambre doesn't call me "Blondie", I shall remain civilized!” added Thetis.

Ambre took her most innocent expression, beating lashes in the direction of Thetis. This one took a wrongly offended mimic.
James began laughing in front of their mimes.

“Miss, this meeting is over!”

Greece, Great Sanctuary, March 5, 2004, 9:10 pm (Mar. 5, 7:10 PM, GMT +2:00)

Palace of Elision

Persephone stroked gently the brown and smooth hairs, while observing the sleepy face of her lover. How young he was when he had been sired! she thought. Her fingers left the brown silk, and run on the powerful shoulders, then slid lower. Where the skin was marked with indelible scars: one was straight, marking the back in diagonal. Others, one on the shoulder, and five or six in the middle of the back, formed small craters. Persephone had so often felt them under her fingers when she embraced him. But it was the first time she had the occasion to see them.

“They intrigue you so much, these scars?”
Bàlint had just woken up, and threw his grey glance to Persephone. She reddened, as a teenager taken in fault, and put down a kiss on his cheek. Kind attention that made Bàlint smile.

“I believed that vampires could recover from their wounds...”

“It's true.”

“But these marks, they were made more than four hundred years ago, aren't they?

Bàlint pushed his head in the embroidered pillow, as to chase away a bad memory.

“The whip and the arrows were dedicated... Dipped into holy water during a Christian mass. That's why they mark my back forever”

Persephone continued to caress the brown stripes which covered the marble back.

“Did you hate Ermengardis enough to risk to be killed by its soldiers?”

“Yes.”

Bàlint had answered, keeping his eyes closed. Persephone bent and deposited a new kiss on his cheeks. Her fingers left the scars to play again with the brown hair.

“By which hatred are you lead, Bàlint the Magyar?”
Bàlint didn't answer. Persephone embraced the one who had stolen her heart by just casting his eternal glance on her. But the face of her beloved one was sad, as if he was back to dark memories.

“I still see his face... ” murmured Bàlint.

1497, Island of Telemny. The Valley of Pain...

Bàlint was still holding the medallion in his hand, and tried to drive away from his mind the pain that was paralyzing his muscles. His right leg, his back, and his left shoulder were pierced by arrows, and he could feel the liquid infiltrating in him, burning his flesh. He realized that he had to remove them before his body falls in dust, like his brother had been in front of him, some minutes before.

Bàlint seized the arrow thrown in his shoulder, and in an effort maybe only vampires are able to do, tore it from him sharply.  He pulled away the other arrows, removing them from his body one by one, roaring with pain every time the iron scratched his flesh. He finally felt on the ground, exhausted, and was going to lose consciousness when he made out dawn appearing on the horizon. He imagined himself, burned by the bites of the rising sun, joining Gàbor in his journey to the Kingdom of Death.

But Bàlint rejected this idea very fast: the medallion he still held in his hands had opened, as by magic, and the face of his brother was smiling to him. Bàlint felt an incredible force warming his breast, propagating in his veins, running in his muscles, and finally covering the pain. He saw again the last hours of his eternal existence. The images scrolled before his eyes: the council, which had appointed him as the leader of this suicide mission... Then the evening, before the attack, with his brother. Their conversation. The distress of Gàbor... Then, the attack in the Gorge of Pain... And again, the images of the destruction of Gàbor...

His body, died for centuries, was warming more and more, suddenly animated by a prodigious life.

“Gàbor, I will avenge you!” swore Bàlint, raising the head, then the bust. Lifting up on his forearm, he could make the enemy army approaching, roaring of terror and pain preceding it. No doubt that the soldiers of Ermengardis were finishing the vampires of Marius, a picket in the heart.

Bàlint managed to get up and skipped behind a rock, amazed to be able to move that quick. From his hiding-place, he saw the soldiers surrounding the place where he was, some minutes before. The soldiers of Ermengardis were stabbing mercilessly the dying vampires on the ground, sending them back to dust. Bàlint tried to keep the control of his thoughts, and to convince himself to stay under cover. Then, he broke the neck of a soldier who had come too close to him, and took his armor and his mask.

He finished a lot of his own soldiers, hidden under his iron helmet. People whom he had pulled in the darkness... His children... Nevertheless, he killed them without remorse, to make illusion to the soldiers of Ermengardis. Against his chest, the medallion of Gàbor was beating, like his heart used to beat formerly.

His prodigious force abandoned him into the citadel of Telemny: Bàlint collapsed behind a statue of Ganymede. Nobody paid attention to him. He was looking like one of the soldiers of Ermengardis, fallen here and there, too much exhausted to be able to undress their armors before sleeping.

He woke up several hours later, a beam of moonlight striking his eyelids through his helmet. The call of the night... He roamed in the endless corridors, and the atriums with immense colonnades, his steps leading him straight towards the apartments of Hademar, the general of the army of Ermengardis. He understood it at the moment he saw the strange emblem hanged at the windows of a temple, at the top of a hill. He began climbing hundred of meters of rocks, thinking more and more seriously to murder the general Hademar. He met some sleepy guards, but nobody asked him what he was doing there. When he reached the entrance of the temple, he turned around behind him and contemplated the surrounding canyons. Those at the East and at the West of the Temple of Telemny were covered with weapons of any kind, helmets and armors. But no corpse was visible.

“Could it be that the whole army of Marius have been defeated?” murmured Bàlint.

He tore away from the vision of this slaughter without corpse, and entered the temple. He skipped between the dark columns, always walking straight ahead in front of him, towards the only and weak light that illuminated the temple. Fragments of voice reached him, at first unclear, then more precise. Bàlint felt the medallion of Gàbor beating even more strongly against his chest and he hurried to get closer to the gate from which the voices and the light were coming.

The room was big, round, bordered with giant columns. The paved ground, grey and bare, had been removed in eight places. About twenty men were there, as well as eight massive metal coffins. Hademar was standing among them, supervising the operations of a terrible glance. Bàlint had no pain to recognize him thanks to his legendary bloody red hairs.

“Geida! Eorl! Castamir! Angmar! Come here! I have to speak with you!” he called.

The Four men walked away from the group, and joined their general, near one of the immense columns. Bàlint didn't move from his observation point, but his developed hearing allowed him to catch every word.

“You will take each a coffin, and will lead him to the place that I shall indicate you. Geldis, Odovacar, Hengist and Luitgard must be kept in another place. It is far too much dangerous to keep them all imprisoned here!”

“How about the keys, My Lord?” asked the so-called Castamir.

“These keys were forged in a very particular metal, the same as the metal of the armors of the Athena's saints. They cannot be destroyed” answered coldly Hademar.

“It's necessary to keep them under cover” slid Eorl the giant.

“Lead these coffins in a place that will remain secret, and then insure you that nobody will come to reopen them in the future. This is your only and only mission, as well as the mission of your descendants. I shall take care to remove the keys from the memory of the Centuries and of Men”.

Persephone sat on the bed, surprised.

“It's impossible... You mean that the story of the coffins of the island of Telemny is only a tale! Keys have never been destroyed!” she whispered, amazed.

Bàlint stood up and wrapped her in his marble arms.

“Like many legends, it's only a story that had been made to satisfy and reassure people. And what it doesn't say, it's that a vampire of the army of Marius knows the hiding place of the four missing coffins, as well as where are the keys.”

Persephone opened wide eyes.

“Bàlint, how do you know it?”

“I read it in the thoughts of Hademar and his men. Hademar himself kept one of the keys. It is transmitted from generation to generation on his lineage. It was for that reason that I tried to break into the headquarters of Ermengardis, almost five hundred years ago. I have never tried to murder the Great Master of that time, although I would have been able to do it also...”

“Is it to find the keys and the coffins that you asked me to send my people in Lyon?”

“Yes.”

Persephone started shivering. Bàlint hold her even more tightly against his chest.

“Imagine the power that will give you the ownership of these coffins and their invaluable contents. Neither Apollo, nor any God will dare to miss you respect.”

Persephone didn't answer.

“Are you afraid of me, my Goddess?”

Persephone raised her eyes towards Bàlint: she still didn't dare to answer.

“Ô Persephone, my love...”

Bàlint deposited a kiss on one of her cheeks, which turned immediately to pink.

“I am going to make you forget this fear, beautiful Persephone, my goddess...”

Bàlint kissed the pale lips of the goddess. Not of his usual ardor, but with tenderness. Persephone thought briefly of running away from his arms, from the attraction of this devil. Before giving in to him once again.
 

Japan, Headquarters of Ermengardis, March 6, 2004, 6:00 am (March 5, 9:00 PM +9:00)

Pavilion Bishamonten, somewhere in the corridors

Shura had been walking for hours in the corridors of the Headquarters. Unable to find sleep, he had gone out of his room, and had settled down at first in the Main Lounge. He had watched TV during hours, calling sleep to come. It was at about 4:30 am of the morning when he had decided to leave the comfortable sofa and to walk in the corridors again. He had turned around several times, feeling a presence behind him, sometimes foot steps. The fruit of his tired mind, certainly. He finally found himself in front of one the doors of the pavilion, leading to the computer room of the Headquarters, let in free access for all its occupants.
Shura had walked several times nearby this room, hesitating on what to do: try to now the truth or ignore it? With the knowledge he had acquired from Armando, it would be a piece of cake for him to enter the information system of the Order and find information on the man he refused to pronounce the name.

He held out the hand to turn the handle, but the door opened by itself.

“Is there already somebody working here? On a Saturday morning, at this hour?” murmured Shura, slightly surprised. He opened completely the door, and recognized the red hair of Ambre, who bent down on a computer screen. Shura approached her noiselessly.

Ambre almost jumped on her seat and carried a hand to her heart: Shura was standing next to her, and looked very tired, his eyes reddened by the lack of sleep. He was wearing the same clothes as the day before. Amber guessed to his look that he couldn't find sleep during the night.

“Hello Shura, I didn't hear you coming in. You're not sleeping?” she asked with a smile, trying to hide her surprise.

“No... I didn't manage to sleep.”

“It happens often to you, isn't it?”

“Every night...”

Shura crossed a hand on his face and sighed.

“Shura, are you OK?” asked Ambre, slightly worried.

“Yes … By the way, what are you doing here? It's quite early in the morning... ” he asked, obviously to change the subject of conversation.

“I forgot to make a research that Camus had asked me yesterday.”

“A research?”

“Yes, he would like to find an old friend... I don't know so much except his name and location.”

 Shura had a suspicion: would Camus be confronted with the same situation as him? With his past?

“And, is it possible to find people so easily?” he asked, trying to hide his interest.

“Yes. If the person contacted is a collaborator of Ermengardis, or if he or she had been involved in a business concerning Ermengardis, she or he is in our database. And the Order also has access to lot's of official databases all over the world”

“That's impressing...”

“Why, you want to find somebody?” asked Ambre, seeing that, along with her explanations, Shura was looking at her with a more and more shining glance.

“Maybe...”

“You can give me his or her name, and I will check if there is something on this person.”

Shura cleared his throat, which had become incredibly dry.

“Adrian Candelas” he whispered. His heart pounded at the sound of this name, which he had not pronounced for years.

“Somebody of your family?”

“Remotely...”

Shura felt his legs shivering. Fatigue and sleep were invading him, finally... Was it to pronounce the so obsessing name that had released him?

“I think I am going to go to go to bed” he apologized, making a small farewell sign to Amber.

Amber watched at him going away.

“They are all completely perturbed. What could I do for them?” she sighed.

She put back her attention to the subject of her research: the file of Philippe de Grandfort. Shura had arrived before she could open it, and now, she absolutely wanted to read it before handing it to Camus. She selected the file of a right click, and dove in the report.
 

Greece, Great Sanctuary, March 6, 2004, 11:15 pm (Mar.5 9:15 PM GMT +2:00)

Palace of Athena

 Jabu was walking toward the Throne room of his Goddess, where he had been summoned. As usual, lost in his thoughts, and just a little intrigued by the late hour chosen for this "meeting". He cast a glance to the vaults of the temple, the former Palace of Aquarius, and which was now named "Palace of Athena".
    After the signature of the treaty, every temple of the Sanctuary had been assigned to a divinity, and naturally, restored and decorated in consequence. Athena had seen attributing the Palace of Aquarius. A choice proposed by Apollo, who had decided to occupy the former temple of Pisces, which offered a magnificent sight on all the Sanctuary, a place close to his father - who was occupying now the former Palace of Pope - and an observation point from which he could spy his hatred half-sister. Artemisia had invested the Palace of Capricorn, and being the direct neighbor of the former palace of Aquarius, could bring anytime support to her twin brother. Persephone, the wife of the God of the Dead, Hades, had chosen the former Palace of Cancer. A fated place... Julian Solo, or rather to say Poseidon, had been relegated to the former temple of Aries, enough far away so that he couldn't bring a constant help to Athena.

That was the current geography of the Terrestrial Sanctuary...

The glance of Jabu settled on the door, made of gold and sculptured marble, which blocked the entrance of the Throne room, and on which was chiseled the legend of Ganymede. For how long his world has been reduced to those walls? To the restricted area of the Sanctuary? Eleven years... Eleven long years, during which he had never stopped to be a prisoner... As well as his Goddess, and the dozen silver knights who had failed to run away.
Prisoner... This word, which Athena refused to pronounce... This reality, which Saori Kido refused to admit...

Jabu bowed very low in front of the Goddess Athena.

“You called me, My Goddess ?”

“Yes, Jabu, I would like to entrust you with a very important mission.”

“It will be an honor and a pleasure for me to accept it...”

Athena got up from her throne, and approached Jabu, still knelt down, and who didn't dare to raise her eyes on her.

“Jabu?”

“Yes?”

“I would like you to spy Apollo's Palace.”

Jabu raised the head, surprised and slightly frightened by this request.

“But, my Goddess, do you know to which danger you and I will be exposed?”

“I am conscious of it, Jabu... But you must know that Apollo released two “Great Ancient", two millennium vampires, to make our dear gold saints return to life, at the price of horrible sufferings...”

Jabu opened wide eyes:

“The Gold Saints are back to life?”

“Yes, it happened almost two months ago... But the most concerning is that the two Great Ancients are now free... Free to kill whoever they want, whenever they want... Free to make their peers return to life...”

Jabu got up slowly.

“No! I will never let it happen!”

His Goddess sent him a smile.

“Thank you Jabu, you understand the reason for which I summoned you.”

Jabu felt his heart jumping up in his breast.

“Yes my Goddess!”

“According to the Great Master of Ermengardis, both Great Ancients would still be in the Great Sanctuary... And I suspect Apollo to have taken them under his wing, and hide them in his temple.”

Ermengardis! This name made Jabu quiver. How he would have liked to join this legendary order! He finally dared to smile to his Goddess.

“I swear you on my life that I will discover where the two Great Ancients are hidden...”

Athena seized his hands.

“But I do not want you to risk your life...”

“I am sorry, my Goddess, my love, but I will risk my life for this mission...”

Jabu cast a sad glance on the doors that closed behind him. On the vision of his Goddess, sat on her throne, looking at him with a discrete smile.

“I have nothing to loose in this world... Neither hope to recover freedom”.

The doors in front of him closed completely

“Nor hope that one day, your heart opens to me...”

 

1. Chittara or quitaire: ancestor of the mandolin. Term used in Italy in the 14th century.

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