"I'm not even 16 yet, and I already feel like my life has been through this before. I've never met my parents, and their love has never been more necessary than at this moment." Yesterday, while watching the news, I looked out the window and discovered those strange lights.
Waking up in the warm humidity of the Yucatan jungle. The orphanage, if it could even be called that, was a collection of rustic but sturdy cabins, woven into the jungle itself, protected by an ancient and subtle magic that she, back then, didn't understand, but that had always made her feel... different, safe in a strange way. The air smelled of wet earth, exotic flowers, and the mystery of the unknown.
She saw herself, fifteen-year-old Aria, her red hair already a rebellious blaze, sitting in the orphanage's common room. An old television, with a makeshift antenna, was displaying, with a lot of static, the news from some Mérida channel: politics, some minor archaeological discovery, the weather... mundane things that seemed from another universe.
But her attention wasn't on the screen. While she was half-listening to the presenter, her gaze had wandered toward the window, toward the dense wall of vegetation that surrounded the orphanage's clearing. And then she saw it. First, lights in the sky, not stars, not airplanes. They were erratic pulses of an impossible color, like tears in the fabric of dawn filtering through the leaves. Then, closer, at the edge of the clearing, strange presences began to move, shadows that slithered between the trees, too tall, too thin, or too... wrong to be animals or people. Oddly, they didn't frighten her. An intense, almost childlike curiosity filled her. What were they? Jungle spirits the old women in the nearby village had talked about?
She was so absorbed in the forbidden spectacle that she didn't feel the hurried footsteps behind her until it was too late.
"Watch out, Aria!"
A body collided with hers, making her stumble. It was Raul. The silly boy she liked so much, even though she'd never admitted it to herself. Raul, at seventeen, was already muscular and tall, with unruly black hair and an easy smile that always managed to disarm her. A natural leader in the orphanage, the one who organized the games, the one who stood up to the bullies, the one who always seemed to know what to do.
He stumbled into her too, losing his balance for a moment. His hands braced himself on Aria's shoulders to steady himself, and they were very close, too close. Aria felt heat rise to her face, her cheeks burning. She looked up and saw Raúl blushing too, a deep red spreading beneath his skin, tanned by the Yucatán sun.
"So... sorry, Aria," he stammered, pulling his hands away as if they were burning. "I didn't see you. I was... uh... looking for Sister Isabel."
"No... never mind," Aria managed, feeling her own voice sound strange.
They stood like that for a moment, in an awkward silence charged with the electricity of an unspoken teenage crush. He smiled at her again, that smile that made her heart skip a beat. "Well... see you later, okay?" And with one last look Aria couldn't interpret, he turned and ran toward the orphanage chapel.
Aria stood there, her heart pounding, a silly smile on her lips.
In her mind, echoing a deep, ancient sadness, that was the last time she saw him.
The memory of Raúl, of his awkward smile and their shared blush, faded from Aria's mind like the morning mist over the Yucatán jungle. It left behind an echo of sadness, a pang of lost innocence, and gave way to another memory, darker, more laden with foreboding, marking the true end of her childhood and the beginning of her strange destiny.
The days following Raúl's disappearance, Aria thought, as she idly watched the other children from school quietly discuss ancient stellar and local legends, were a blur of fear and confusion in the orphanage. The lights in the sky and the shadows at the edge of the jungle hadn't returned, but a heavy layer of apprehension had settled over all of us, the children and the few remaining caregivers.
Her fifteen years, the feeling of isolation that had become almost physical. Her magic, always an unpredictable whirlwind within her, seemed to have grown more erratic with the stress, attracting the frightened glances of the other orphans and the distrust of the adults.
That's when the bird appeared.
It wasn't just any bird from the Yucatecan jungle. It was an owl, or what the local Mayans called with awe a ***Xo'ch'***. Enormous, with plumage as dark as a moonless night, with eyes disproportionately large.
"I'm not even 16 yet, and I already feel like my life has been through this before. I've never met my parents, and their love has never been more necessary than at this moment." Yesterday, while watching the news, I looked out the window and discovered those strange lights.
Waking up in the warm humidity of the Yucatan jungle. The orphanage, if it could even be called that, was a collection of rustic but sturdy cabins, woven into the jungle itself, protected by an ancient and subtle magic that she, back then, didn't understand, but that had always made her feel... different, safe in a strange way. The air smelled of wet earth, exotic flowers, and the mystery of the unknown.
She saw herself, fifteen-year-old Aria, her red hair already a rebellious blaze, sitting in the orphanage's common room. An old television, with a makeshift antenna, was displaying, with a lot of static, the news from some Mérida channel: politics, some minor archaeological discovery, the weather... mundane things that seemed from another universe.
But her attention wasn't on the screen. While she was half-listening to the presenter, her gaze had wandered toward the window, toward the dense wall of vegetation that surrounded the orphanage's clearing. And then she saw it. First, lights in the sky, not stars, not airplanes. They were erratic pulses of an impossible color, like tears in the fabric of dawn filtering through the leaves. Then, closer, at the edge of the clearing, strange presences began to move, shadows that slithered between the trees, too tall, too thin, or too... wrong to be animals or people. Oddly, they didn't frighten her. An intense, almost childlike curiosity filled her. What were they? Jungle spirits the old women in the nearby village had talked about?
She was so absorbed in the forbidden spectacle that she didn't feel the hurried footsteps behind her until it was too late.
"Watch out, Aria!"
A body collided with hers, making her stumble. It was Raul. The silly boy she liked so much, even though she'd never admitted it to herself. Raul, at seventeen, was already muscular and tall, with unruly black hair and an easy smile that always managed to disarm her. A natural leader in the orphanage, the one who organized the games, the one who stood up to the bullies, the one who always seemed to know what to do.
He stumbled into her too, losing his balance for a moment. His hands braced himself on Aria's shoulders to steady himself, and they were very close, too close. Aria felt heat rise to her face, her cheeks burning. She looked up and saw Raúl blushing too, a deep red spreading beneath his skin, tanned by the Yucatán sun.
"So... sorry, Aria," he stammered, pulling his hands away as if they were burning. "I didn't see you. I was... uh... looking for Sister Isabel."
"No... never mind," Aria managed, feeling her own voice sound strange.
They stood like that for a moment, in an awkward silence charged with the electricity of an unspoken teenage crush. He smiled at her again, that smile that made her heart skip a beat. "Well... see you later, okay?" And with one last look Aria couldn't interpret, he turned and ran toward the orphanage chapel.
Aria stood there, her heart pounding, a silly smile on her lips.
In her mind, echoing a deep, ancient sadness, that was the last time she saw him.
The memory of Raúl, of his awkward smile and their shared blush, faded from Aria's mind like the morning mist over the Yucatán jungle. It left behind an echo of sadness, a pang of lost innocence, and gave way to another memory, darker, more laden with foreboding, marking the true end of her childhood and the beginning of her strange destiny.
The days following Raúl's disappearance, Aria thought, as she idly watched the other children from school quietly discuss ancient stellar and local legends, were a blur of fear and confusion in the orphanage. The lights in the sky and the shadows at the edge of the jungle hadn't returned, but a heavy layer of apprehension had settled over all of us, the children and the few remaining caregivers.
Her fifteen years, the feeling of isolation that had become almost physical. Her magic, always an unpredictable whirlwind within her, seemed to have grown more erratic with the stress, attracting the frightened glances of the other orphans and the distrust of the adults.
That's when the bird appeared.
It wasn't just any bird from the Yucatecan jungle. It was an owl, or what the local Mayans called with awe a ***Xo'ch'***. Enormous, with plumage as dark as a moonless night, with eyes disproportionately large
Large, glowing eyes that glowed with an unnatural intelligence, a disturbing amber color, almost like those of Quetzal, an ancient sorcerer who appeared in the orphanage's legends and bestowed power upon the most powerful witches and dark wizards.
He began to appear with blood-curdling regularity. He perched on the highest branch of the old ceiba tree that stood in the center of the orphanage courtyard, or sometimes, even more disturbingly, on the windowsill of the small cabin Aria shared with two other girls. He always stared at her, only at her, with a fixity that seemed to penetrate her soul.
"It's a Xo'ch'!" the other children whispered in terror, making the sign of the cross or clutching small amulets made of seeds and shells. "A bad omen, a bird of ill omen. The Soch in Yucatán is a bird that announces death, or a great misfortune for the house it haunts."
Aria, who had grown up with Mayan legends whispered by the orphanage cooks and the old jungle workers, felt a deep chill run through her every time the bird appeared. Its presence was a blanket of silence and expectation. Was it coming for her? Was it announcing her own end, or perhaps that of the orphanage itself, already marked by Raúl's disappearance and the visit of the strange lights and shadows?
But despite the visceral fear the stories and the terrified stares of others instilled in her, there was something in the penetrating gaze of that Xo'ch'... a serene intelligence, a... patient waiting. It was as if the bird were not a simple omen, but a messenger with a purpose.
Aria wasn't sure whether or not to welcome that bird that hovered so insistently near her home, near her space. A part of her, the scared little girl who just wanted to be normal, wanted to scream at it, chase it away with rocks, break the spell of its ominous presence. But another part, the one that had seen the lights in the sky and the shadows in the jungle, the one that felt the uncontrollable and sometimes terrifying power boiling beneath her skin, felt a strange and dangerous curiosity. She felt the bird calling to her, that it had something for her.
For several days, the Xo'ch' continued its silent vigil. Aria avoided its gaze, but felt its amber eyes constantly on her. Until one morning, when she woke up, she found something on the dirt floor of her hut, just below the window where the bird usually perched.
It was a small scroll of parchment, made of a material she had never seen, tied with a thin, faintly shining silver thread. She picked it up with trembling hands. The Xo'ch' was no longer in the window.
Her heart pounding, Aria undid the knot. The parchment unrolled itself, revealing a single, elegant rune drawn in ink that seemed to glow with its own light. It wasn't a language she knew, but the instant she saw it, a realization blossomed in her mind, like a long-forgotten memory.
Umbria.
There were no more words, just that name, that rune, and the overwhelming sense of a calling, of a destiny opening before her. The fear was still there, but now it was mixed with a strange and powerful excitement. The Xo'ch', the bird of death, had brought her not an end, but the heralding of an entirely new and unknown beginning.
The Umbria College of Arcane Arts stood atop a windswept cliff, an imposing structure of grayish stone with towers that twisted skyward like bony fingers. It didn't appear on any map, nor could it be reached by conventional means. Only those with the "spark," the predisposition to magic, could perceive the hidden path that wound through the enchanted forest that surrounded it.
Aria, a fifteen-year-old girl with fiery red hair and a restless gaze, clutched the crumpled letter in her hand as she followed the path. The letter, which had arrived in the most unlikely way—delivered by a golden-eyed owl that had stared at her before dropping it into her lap—invited her to join Umbria. Aria had always been different. Things moved around her when she was angry, candles lit themselves when she was happy, and, once, she had made a rosebush bloom in the middle of winter. She had never understood it, until now.
The forest, dense and silent, seemed to be watching her. Trees with faces carved into their bark whispered as she passed, and strange lights danced among the shadows. Aria, though frightened, felt a strange familiarity, a sense of belonging.
Finally, the forest parted, revealing the school. It was even more imposing up close, with gargoyles peering down at her from the eaves and windows glowing with an eerie light. As she crossed the threshold, she felt a surge of magical energy that made her skin crawl.
Inside, the school was a maze of winding hallways, twisting staircases, and classrooms filled with strange objects: steaming cauldrons, books
Bound in dragon hide, crystal spheres displayed images of the past and future.
Aria was greeted by the headmistress, a tall, enigmatic woman named Maestra Eleonora, with silver hair tied back in an intricate bun and eyes that seemed to see through her soul.
"Welcome to Umbria, Aria," Eleonora said, her voice deep and resonant. "Here you will learn to control and channel your gift. But beware, magic is a powerful and capricious force. It requires discipline, respect, and, above all, courage."
Aria soon met other students, each with their own unique quirks and talents. There was Kaelen, a tall, slender boy with jet-black hair and the ability to control the wind; Lyra, a dark-skinned girl with glowing eyes who could speak to animals; and Finn, a sturdy young man with strawberry-blond hair and superhuman strength.
The classes were very different from anything Aria had ever experienced. They learned to cast protection spells, brew potions with exotic ingredients (unicorn hair, phoenix tears, basilisk scales), read ancient runes, and control the elements.
But magic wasn't easy. The spells often went awry, with comical or sometimes dangerous results. Aria, in particular, struggled to control her power. Her magic was chaotic, unpredictable, like a flooded river.
In a Transfiguration class, while attempting to turn a feather into a snake, Aria accidentally transformed the teacher, a strict but ultimately kind man named Master Silas, into a giant toad. The resulting chaos (and the subsequent search for the counterspell) became legendary in Umbria.
Despite her difficulties, Aria loved Umbria. She felt free, accepted, for the first time in her life. She had found a place where she fit in.
But the tranquility wouldn't last. One day, a dark shadow loomed over the school. Strange events began to occur. Objects disappeared, spells turned against their casters, and a sense of fear and mistrust spread among the students.
Maestro Eleonora, worried, gathered everyone in the Great Hall. "Umbria is under attack," she announced, her voice deep. "A dark force is attempting to steal our magic, our essence."
Rumors spread that an ancient enemy of Umbria, an exiled sorcerer named Malkor, had returned. Malkor, consumed by ambition and a thirst for power, sought the Lumina Stone, a legendary artifact said to contain the source of all Umbria's magic.
Maestro Eleonora entrusted Aria, Kaelen, Lyra, and Finn with a dangerous mission: find the Lumina Stone before Malkor and protect it at all costs. The Headmistress provided them with a cryptic map.
The search took them through secret passages within the college, through enchanted forests and underground caves. They confronted dangerous magical creatures, solved ancient riddles, and overcame deadly traps.
Despite her fears and doubts, Aria proved to be a born leader. Her chaotic magic, once a handicap, became her greatest strength. Her unpredictability confused her enemies, and her intuition guided her through the most difficult moments.
Finally, they reached the Hidden Chamber, where the Lumina Stone was located. But Malkor was already there.
The sorcerer, tall and gaunt, with eyes filled with cold malice, was waiting for them. "You're late," he said with a cruel smile. "The Lumina Stone will be mine."
An epic battle ensued. Spells clashed, the walls shook, and magical energy filled the chamber. Kaelen summoned hurricane-force winds, Lyra called the creatures of the forest to her aid, and Finn fought with relentless strength. But Malkor was too powerful.
Aria, watching her friends fall one by one, was overcome with a desperate rage. She channeled all her energy, all her fear, all her hope, into a single spell. It wasn't a spell she had learned in Umbria; it was a spell that rose from the depths of her being, a pure and primordial spell.
A wave of fiery red light erupted from her hands, striking Malkor with devastating force. The sorcerer screamed, his body disintegrated into dust, and the darkness surrounding him dissipated.
The Lumina Stone, which had been glowing with a dim light, now glowed with blinding intensity. Aria, exhausted but victorious, approached it. She didn't touch it, simply gazed at it, feeling the immense energy emanating from it.
Back in Umbria, Aria and her friends were welcomed like heroes. Maestra Eleonora, with a proud smile, congratulated them on their bravery and ingenuity.
Aria, no longer the insecure girl who had arrived in Umbria, had become a powerful and self-confident sorceress. She had found her place in the world and discovered that her chaotic and unpredictable magic was the key to her power. The adventure was no longer...
She had not only saved Umbria, but had transformed her. And the school of magic, with all its mysteries and challenges, would remain her home, the place where magic, and friendship, were the most important lessons of all.
Headmistress's Office, Umbria School of Magic
Maestra Eleonora, the respected and formidable Headmistress of Umbria, sat in her private study. Moonlight filtered through the tall Gothic windows, illuminating the ancient grimoires and arcane artifacts that filled the room. The threat of Malkor, a renegade sorcerer who had sought to unleash dark forces, had only recently been neutralized thanks to the combined efforts of Umbria's teachers and most promising students.
A young Aria, barely fifteen or sixteen years old, had just emerged from her office, her face still lit with happiness and pride at having played a crucial role in Malkor's defeat, her chaotic power, for once, channeled into tangible good. Eleonora had congratulated her, feeling that mixture of maternal pride and a hint of awe at the immense potential bubbling within the girl.
Once alone, Eleonora activated a hidden communication device, a polished obsidian disc that floated above her desk and projected a holographic screen. On it appeared the imposing, radiant figure of a being she knew as the Commander of the Umitas, her supposed benefactors and stellar guides. It was Amitiel, though in this manifestation, his light was more golden and warm, his inhumanly beautiful features softened by an expression of serene wisdom and benevolence.
"Commander," Eleonora said with deep respect, bowing her head. "Situation report on Terra: the disruptive agent known as Malkor has been neutralized. The chaotic energies he attempted to unleash have been contained by Umbria's actions. The young woman... the asset 'Aria'... demonstrated extraordinary potential and a surprising ability to channel energies that even we are only beginning to understand."
On Amitiel's screen, an almost paternal smile seemed to touch his perfect lips. His voice echoed in Eleonora's mind, warm and filled with cosmic authority. "Excellent, Master Eleonora. I knew we could trust your expertise and Umbria's dedication. Everything was going according to plan."
Eleonora felt a surge of satisfaction. Serving the Umitas, these beings of light who had come from the stars to guide humanity and protect it from the true darkness of the universe, was the greatest honor of her life.
Amitiel continued, his "voice" now taking on a deeper, more strategic tone. "The defeat of lesser pawns like Malkor is necessary, Master. Prepare the ground. Every small outbreak of darkness you so zealously eradicate, every spark of chaos Umbria combats and 'arranges' under your wise guidance, actually serves a greater purpose. Although you may not fully perceive it, these confrontations, these 'victories' over localized evil, generate a controlled dissonance, a subtle but persistent instability in the energy grid of your planet."
Eleonora frowned, trying to understand the depth of the Ummita strategy.
"Understand, Master," Amitiel's voice was persuasive, almost hypnotic, "that the true threat to Terra is not these renegade sorcerers or the dark cults that sprout like weeds. They are the Great Entities of the Void, the Primal Horrors that slumber in the depths of the cosmos and yearn to devour entire worlds. For humanity to develop the spiritual fortitude and magical resilience necessary to resist their eventual awakening or their insidious influence, it must be... tested. Tempered in the fires of lesser conflicts."
"Your mission, the sacred task of Umbria under the guidance of us, the Umitas, is therefore crucial," Amitiel declared. "You must continue to be the beacon that combats these 'lesser shadows,' that exposes corruption, that confronts injustice. But in doing so, in unleashing chaos—a controlled chaos, of course, the kind that inevitably arises from the constant struggle against perceived 'evil'—that was the one fundamental mission I entrusted to you for Umbria. This process, this constant upheaval, though painful in the short term, purifies the planet's energies, strengthens the spirit of its defenders, and most importantly, raises the collective emotional vibration, generating the energy necessary for us, the Umitas, to erect cosmic shields and defenses on a scale you cannot yet imagine."
The logic was impeccable, at least for Eleonora, who had placed all her faith in these beings. Eleonora, the teacher and headmistress of Umbria, blindly trusted the Umitas' master plan, the apparent benevolence of Amitiel. She firmly believed that by fostering these controlled struggles, by "unleashing" and then "containing" chaos through Umbria's heroic actions, he was, in effect, strengthening humanity, preparing it for a future golden age under the wise and protective tutelage of these stellar benefactors who wanted to protect Earth from far worse dark beings, those who were about to wipe out all that was good and whom only the Umitas, with their cosmic knowledge, seemed to understand in their true and terrifying fullness.
He had no way of knowing that the "Chaos" Amitiel asked him to "unleash" and "manage" was precisely the kind of energy that would fuel his true and monstrous "brother," Cthulhu. He had no way of knowing that the "Umitas" were a front for the Luciferian Netlins, and that his "protection" was a form of cosmic tyranny. He was a pawn in a game of the gods, believing he was fighting for the light while unwittingly plowing the fields for the deepest darkness.
Amitiel, from his throne on the distant planet Neptune, smiled at the devotion on Eleonora's holographic face. The plan was indeed moving perfectly. Umbria was an invaluable tool. And young Aria... she, too, would be an interesting piece on the grand chessboard.