The Library of High King’s Castle is a tomb of silent knowledge, saturated with the acrid scent of mold and ancient parchment. Elian and Zech move like shadows among the towering oak shelves; their rags whisper against leather bindings as they remove the gray shroud covering the past. At his desk, Master Silas leans forward, his quill scratching a rhythmic, feverish beat upon his diary.

  A sharp, sudden knock echoes through the hall. It is a violent sound in the silence of the room. Elian and Zech freeze, their eyes fixed on the heavy, reinforced doors. Silas does not even lift his head; he continues to write, leaving the world's toil to his apprentices.

  The two boys rush to the entrance. When the hinges groan open, Elian’s breath catches. Giada is there, framed by the arch of cold stone. She has traded her smoke-stained uniform for a long, heavy skirt and a bright red sweater. In Elian's eyes, she appears as an enchanting creature descended from some unknown paradise.

  ?Giada?, Elian whispers, unable to hide the spark in his eyes.

  She returns a polite but distant smile, her gaze already wandering past them, lost in the vastness of the hall. She ignores the warmth in the boy's voice as if it were mere background noise.

  ?So this is where you hide?, she says, stepping inside. To the girl, the Library is a crypt of mysteries, largely useless. ?What do you do in here all day?? Giada observes, looking around in astonishment.

  Zech shrugs, clutching his dirty rag. ?Mostly dusting...?

  ?Studying!? Elian interrupts him, his voice firm. ?Philosophy, genetics, the history of religions. Subjects the Academy deems unnecessary... We research explorers' diaries to understand how the Wasteland is changing.?

  Giada tilts her head. ?It doesn't surprise me. You were always better at theoretical subjects than with a rifle, Elian.?

  The words hang in the air. Elian scrutinizes her face, unable to tell if it is a compliment or a way to diminish his virility. Before he can answer, she smiles again: a bright smile, but devoid of depth.

  ?Tonight, Wolf Squad gathers at the Crow's Refuge?, she announces. ?To celebrate the return from the first expedition. You are both invited. Your friend, Don Thomas, will be there too.?

  She pronounces the cleric’s name with a hint of amusement, as if the boys' devotion to the Church were a picturesque eccentricity she tolerates without understanding. With a quick nod, she turns, waves a brief farewell, and vanishes into the Castle courtyard.

  From his desk, Silas has observed the entire scene. In Elian’s rigid posture, he sees the specter of his own youth: the same heartbreak, the same blind hope. The same racing heart. But he also sees Giada’s coldness.

  ?Finish dusting?, Silas says, his voice echoing through the vaults. ?If you do it well, I will let you go early.?

  Zech vanishes in a whirlwind of movement. Silas beckons Elian closer. The old man’s eyes are like flint.

  ?Is she the reason you wanted to explore the Wasteland, Elian??

  Elian flushes, the heat rising to his neck. ?Yes, she is.?

  Silas sighs, a sound like dry leaves being stepped on. ?Love is a powerful force, boy. But if you do not learn to love without the claim of possession, it will turn to rot. It will breed resentment and hollow you out. To truly love, in this short and dying life, means to desire the good of the other, regardless of the place you occupy in their heart.?

  ?And if I cannot?? Elian asks, his voice small. ?If I do not know how to love like that??

  ?Then it will be a curse?, Silas replies, his hand falling on Elian’s shoulder with the weight of a leaden shroud. ?A curse for you and a burden for her. Now go. Clean.?

  ***

  At nine in the evening, the Crow's Refuge is a den of low lights and bitter smoke. The air is thick with the smell of beer and unwashed bodies. Inside the only tavern of High King’s Castle, the atmosphere is heavy, saturated with the stench of cheap tobacco smoke and the acrid scent of poorly fermented beer. The bare stone walls weep with moisture, streaked with veins of mold that look like maps of forgotten territories. Oil lanterns hang from the low ceiling, casting distorted shadows that dance across the faces of those present like restless ghosts.

  At a corner table, part of Wolf Squad is already gathered. Mira Vance sits with her boots on the table, her sharp eyes scanning the room. Dax hunks over a plate, complaining about the gristle in the meat, while Kael meticulously cleans ink-stained fingernails. Don Thomas and Zech are already deep in dense conversation.

  Three seats remain empty. Elian slips into the spot next to Zech. The group greets him with a chorus of rough shouts.

  ?Look at them?, Mira sneers, leaning forward toward Elian and Zech. Her face is a map of scratches and dirt. ?Even if it doesn’t look like it, these two are real explorers. They reach places inaccessible even to veterans like Cortez.?

  Zech and Elian laugh with embarrassment, thinking back to their stealthy raid on the hospital ward during Wolf Squad’s quarantine. The others at the table exchange puzzled looks, not catching the joke.

  Don Thomas is about to ask for an explanation when the pub door swings open. The last two enter: Giada and Julien Martel.

  Seeing them arrive together is like a blade sinking between Elian’s ribs. Jealousy flares, a suffocating heat, but he clenches his teeth and feigns indifference. , he thinks, while his face struggles to hide the rage boiling within. Giada moves to sit beside him, but Julien, with a fluid and predatory motion, precedes her. He sits next to Elian, a wall of muscle and blonde arrogance.

  It is a declaration of war. Julien does not even look at him, but his message is clear. Elian feels the hatred seethe: , he thinks while pretending to be impassive. Giada, unaware or indifferent, sits on the opposite side.

  Don Thomas orders pints of beer for everyone, which are brought within minutes by a crude waiter. ?Let us thank Providence?, the priest exclaims, raising his mug. ?It protected these promising youths when all seemed lost.?

  Julien straightens, his ego swelling under the lantern light. He accepts the comparison to "God’s chosen" as if it were his birthright. ?We risked a lot in that radioactive graveyard?, he says, his voice loud so the whole pub can hear. ?The vegetation seemed to want to devour us, it was so thick—to petrify us, as it had already done to the local animals.?

  Don Thomas begins to recount their misadventure, transforming mud and fear into a parable of faith. Elian and Zech listen raptly, finding the talk of Providence consistent, for Wolf Squad truly survived by a miracle. Giada lowers her gaze to the table. ?It was... too much?, she murmurs. ?I still find it hard to believe we are here.?

  Kael taps his leather bag. ?I’ve updated the maps. Command now knows the Silent Wasteland has eaten another three kilometers to the north.?

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  The evening proceeds between the priest’s tales and Julien’s arrogance. But for many present, Don Thomas’s words sound like a forced homily, a jarring noise that does not belong in the grime of the pub. Mira exchanges a knowing look with Dax; faith does not fill the stomach, nor does it stop radiation.

  A wind-up clock on the wall strikes ten-thirty with a metallic chime. Don Thomas stands, smoothing his worn cassock. ?I must leave you, my children. Tomorrow at dawn, the first service awaits me.? With a paternal pat on Zech and Elian’s shoulders, he vanishes into the darkness beyond the door.

  A different silence falls over the table. Mira leans forward, her dark eyes shining with a malevolent light as she stares at Elian and Zech.

  ?Well?, she says, and her voice is a scratch in the dark. ?Now that the crow has returned to its nest, we can talk seriously about the Wasteland. About what really happens out there when God isn't looking.?

  Giada glares at Mira, but the scout ignores her, her eyes glued to the two library apprentices. Suddenly everyone does the same: they stare at Elian and Zech, who look at each other in confusion.

  All eyes are on them. Elian feels the weight of those gazes, an uncomfortable heat rising up his neck; Zech, at his side, hunches his shoulders, seeking refuge in the splintered wood of the table. To steady himself, Zech grabs his pewter mug and takes another long gulp of beer, the metal clinking against his teeth.

  Mira Vance breaks the silence. She rests her elbows on the table, heedless of the grease stains. ?What happened in the Green Graveyard...? she declares bluntly, her voice made hoarse by too many hours spent breathing dust and tobacco fumes, ?was only one of the minor dangers of the Wasteland.?

  ?What do you mean by that?? Julien snaps. The lantern light emphasizes the perfect cut of his Nordic features, but his jaw is clenched, tense.

  Mira does not mince words. ?I mean there are two reasons why Captain Vargo Cortez didn't tell us everything there is to know for an explorer. The first reason is the simple fact that the Captain will think twice before revealing delicate survival information to mere recruits about places and dangers still beyond our reach.?

  Julien and Giada nod slowly. The talk has a bitter but sensible taste regarding military hierarchy. Dax continues to drink beer and chew a strip of dried meat as tough as leather, his eyes fixed on nothingness as if the matter did not concern him. Kael Wald, however, leans forward, his ink-stained fingers drumming on the oak. ?I thought the same thing when we were in the middle of our first expedition?, Kael admits, agreeing with Mira.

  The girl clears her voice, her tone growing darker. ?The second reason is the most important: Cortez remained silent on many subjects because of the presence of the cleric: Don Thomas.?

  Elian interrupts her, his firm voice ringing out with unusual authority among the damp walls. ?It is perfectly logical. The clerics sent by the Church to support the scouting teams are not just there for spiritual support or to give last rites in the most desperate cases. Their role is also to gather information on behalf of the Church, just as General Valerius does with his men.?

  Mira bursts into a booming laugh. ?Congratulations, Elian! Exactly. And that is where you and Red Bush will be useful to us.? She points to Zech with a nod of her chin. ?To our great fortune, you were not confined to the Mines or the Factory, but to the Library: a place where the reports of nearly three hundred years of exploration in the Wasteland are archived and hidden.?

  Julien twists his mouth. He cannot stand to see Elian praised for a role he considers ridiculous—that of a bookworm. He intervenes, his voice charged with ill-concealed contempt: ?The field experience we will gain with Vargo Cortez is worth more than a thousand books.?

  Mira thoroughly ignores Julien, treating him as if he were made of the same inert stone as the walls. She turns to Elian. ?Tell me, then: what is the biggest problem in the Wasteland??

  Elian, now caught up in the discussion, feels his heart rate accelerate. He states the obvious truth: ?Where the Wasteland ends, there lies the greatest problem: the Luminous Forest. It is proof that our ancestors' thinking was entirely wrong.?

  A thick silence falls over the table. Everyone, including Giada, listens to the young librarian. ?The Luminous Forest, according to the first reports I read from past explorers who reached it and managed to return to the Castle, is an entirely new ecosystem and not a simple anomaly of the Wasteland.?

  Julien, moved by an envy that surprises even him, snaps to his feet. The chair screeches violently against the uneven floor. ?It’s just simple aberrations! Deformed plants and mutant animals, created by radioactive pollution.?

  Elian realizes he has stepped into a challenge he can win hands down. He does not hesitate. ?The story of monsters mutated by radiation is just hearsay for those who know nothing of biology. In the Silent Wasteland, you encountered not mutants, but animals dead from too much radioactivity. This is overwhelming proof that life can survive or die in the Wasteland, but it cannot magically transform into mutant monsters.?

  Julien staggers verbally, looking for a foothold. ?Perhaps it is the evolution of the species, maybe forced or accelerated because of the radiation??

  Kael Wald, drawn by the scientific logic, agrees with Elian: ?Elian is right. Radiation has nothing to do with it, especially since the Luminous Forest extends precisely where there are no remains of the nuclear reactors that create the Silent Wastelands or the contaminated zones.?

  Elian continues, relentless. ?What our ancestors believed about the timing of the evolution of life were entirely erroneous theories. Despite a nuclear holocaust, a nuclear winter, and finally, the Avalanche of Fire, life has nonetheless risen anew, not after millions of years, but in incredibly short times.? He takes a sip from his pint, savoring the stunned silence of the others. ?One hundred and fifty years ago! So in just a century and a half, new vegetation had already formed, inhabited by animals never seen in the times of the old world.?

  Mira smiles and gives him a mocking but sincere round of applause. ?It’s exactly this kind of information that could make Elian and Zech our "secret intelligence," an advantage for surviving and climbing the Castle’s hierarchies.?

  Giada observes Elian. For an instant, her gaze drifts, becoming that of the little girl who loved to listen to him fantasize about distant eras and enchanted places. This time, however, his words have the weight of reality. ?But what is so special about the creatures of the Luminous Forest?? the girl asks. ?And why do some of the veteran explorers consider them monsters??

  Elian, happy to have captured the attention of the girl he loves, explains with meticulous detail: ?They are animals of extraordinary strength that recall legendary creatures of the past and that, if attacked, prove to be lethal enemies. Explorers fear that place more than the Cursed Swamps or the contaminated zones, while the Church does not know how to view the matter: why would God create a new ecosystem, rich in resources, full of creatures that recall beings from pagan mythology and that prevent humanity from exploiting the Forest for survival? I too, as a believer, wonder about this.?

  Zech adds with some discomfort that he finds himself in the same situation, continuing to sip his pint. Although only Elian and Zech are believers, everyone, regardless of their creed, understands how thorny the issue is for the colony's inhabitants.

  Julien seethes with rage. He feels humiliated, reduced to an ignoramus by the one he has always mocked. ?You cannot base yourself on the testimonies of dead and buried men who lost their minds just because they saw unusual animals or trees and plants they didn't know how to recognize. You risk becoming like that old man who has lived in the Library for years: a madman who loses himself in the testimonies of the past.?

  At that point, Elian snaps. He stands up as well. In that cramped tavern, his figure seems to grow: he towers over Julien by a full five centimeters. ?First of all, show respect to the "crazed explorers" who gave us the first information about the Luminous Forest; without them, perhaps we wouldn't be here discussing it now. Master Silas is a cultured, kind, and wise man. Not an arrogant boy who wants to be right just to appease his ego. Your social class does not defend you from ignorance, Julien.?

  Julien turns as red as a pepper, the blood pulsing in his temples. He sits back down to prevent the height comparison from overshadowing him further. ?Then tell me, Serpieri?, he hisses in a contemptuous voice, ?what do the explorers of the past think about the birth of the Luminous Forest??

  Elian knows that the actual theories are considered heretical or subversive. For this reason, he replies coldly: ?Various theories exist, but it will be up to the explorers of the future to confirm or deny them. I do not delve into these subjects to be the center of attention, but only because I take my work seriously.?

  His final jab is the killing blow. Julien remains silent, his gaze fixed on the table. The evening continues for another half hour, with Elian answering questions about the Wastelands and the Cursed Swamps. Mira is truly enjoying herself. Then Julien, tired, declares the evening over, reminding them of their morning commitments. He watches Elian with hatred, a look that says:

  Everyone says their goodbyes and steps out into the cold of the night.

  ***

  Elian and Giada walk together toward their dwellings, situated close to one another. The lanterns along the path cast a faint light that struggles to pierce the darkness of the Castle.

  ?I did not imagine you took your work as a librarian so seriously?, Giada says. ?I was amazed by your intelligence, but you went too far in humiliating Julien in front of everyone.?

  ?I have endured endless humiliations because of that dandy, Giada. I am not the least bit sorry.?

  She stops for a moment, observing Elian under the flickering glow of a lantern. She sees him in a new light: a young man with an inner strength never noticed before. She realizes he is truly a handsome man, capable of loving what he does with his whole being. But that look of attraction for Elian ceases abruptly. Giada shakes her head: Elian remains a civilian. He lacks the strength to survive in the Wasteland. They live in two separate worlds.

  Arriving at the Ricci’s door, Elian hopes for a kiss on the cheek, a childhood gesture of affection they have always shared. But Giada is cold. She thanks him curtly and goes inside.

  Elian remains alone, watching the few stars that pierce the Castle's perpetually cloudy sky. ?Perhaps I won against Julien?, he whispers, ?but Giada seems even more distant than when she left High King’s Castle for her first expedition.?

  ?What if Giada’s detachment is intentional? What if Giada has already decided to exile him from her heart forever?? Elian thinks with infinite sadness.