The first thing I felt was the light.
It did not hurt, but it pressed. As if someone had placed a lit candle behind my eyelids. I tried to raise my hand to shield my eyes, but my arm did not obey. It was heavy, numb.
"…lena? Helena!"
The voice was small, high. A child.
Mira.
I opened my eyes. The light flooded my sight, white, immaculate, without shadow. I blinked several times until I could focus. Mira was kneeling beside me, her face dirty with tears, her curly hair tangled.
"You're alive," she said with a sob.
"I am." I sat up slowly. My body ached, but I felt no serious injuries. The golden armour was dented on the shoulder, but intact. "Zirinos?"
"There." She pointed.
Zirinos lay a few paces away, on his back, arms outstretched. His gold‑and‑blood hair spread on the white grass like a fan. His chest rose and fell. He was alive.
I stood up. The grass was soft, cold, glowing with a silvery gleam that seemed to come from within. There were no trees. No mountains. Only an infinite plain, covered in luminous grass, stretching in every direction as far as the eye could see.
The sky had no sun. No clouds. No stars. Only light – an eternal brightness, without source, without direction, that came from everything and nothing at the same time.
"Where are we?" I asked aloud.
"In the elves' layer," replied a voice behind me.
I turned.
A woman. Green hair, the colour of seaweed, long to her waist. Almond eyes, of a blue so pale they seemed white. Skin light, almost transparent. She wore a tunic of woven leaves, which glowed with the same light as the grass.
"An elf," I said.
"An elf," she confirmed. "And you, intruders."
"We are not intruders. We fell."
"Falling is a way of arriving. Those who fall fall with a purpose." The elf looked at Zirinos. "Is he injured?"
"Only unconscious. The fall was long."
"Falls are always long when falling from one layer to another."
The elf approached Zirinos. Mira stepped back, pressed against me. I touched her hair, tried to calm her.
"Will he wake up?" asked Mira.
"He will," the elf replied. "The light does not kill. It only tires."
She knelt beside Zirinos. She touched his forehead with her fingertips – a light touch, almost without contact. Zirinos stirred, groaned, opened his eyes.
"Where…" he began.
"In the elves' layer," I replied. "The fall was a trap."
Zirinos sat up abruptly. His eyes scanned the plain, the sky, the light. His face paled.
"There are no shadows," he said, his voice hoarse.
"No."
"How can I…"
"I don't know." I touched his shoulder. "But we are together."
The elf stood up.
"My name is Serel," she said. "I will take you to the city. The king will decide what to do with you."
"And if we don't want to go?" asked Zirinos, his hand on his sword.
"Then you will stay here. Until the light consumes you." Serel did not smile. "The choice is yours."
Zirinos looked at me. He looked at Mira. He tightened his hand on his sword, then let it go.
"Let's go," he said.
The elf nodded and began to walk.
We followed her.
---
The walk was long. Or short. I don't know.
Time, there, did not pass as in the world of men. There was no sun to mark the hours, no moon to count the nights. Only the light, always the same, always in the same place. My eyes hurt. My skin burned. Mira, in Zirinos's arms, no longer cried. She only looked.
"How do you bear it?" I asked Serel as we walked.
"We were born here," she replied without turning. "The light is our mother. Our food. Our law."
"And those who come from outside?"
"Those from outside always want to return. Some succeed. Others… stay."
"Stay how?"
"Stay in the light. Become light. It is a way of dying."
Zirinos held Mira tighter against his chest.
"No one will stay," he said. "We will leave."
Serel did not answer.
---
The elves' city appeared on the horizon like a mirage.
It had no walls. No gates. The houses were trees – enormous trees with silver trunks and glass leaves, growing side by side to form streets and squares. The branches intertwined high above, creating a vegetal ceiling that filtered the light, making it softer, almost bearable.
"It's beautiful," Mira whispered.
"It is," agreed Zirinos, but his voice was tense.
Serel led us to the centre of the city, where an even larger tree stood alone, surrounded by a lake of clear water. The roots plunged into the water like stone serpents.
"King Thalior awaits you," said Serel, stopping at the lake's edge. "Go down."
"Down where?" I asked.
"Inside."
The water of the lake did not reflect the sky. It reflected only light.
Zirinos looked at me. I looked at him.
"Let's go," he said.
We entered the water.