---
Chapter One: The City of Masks and the Beginning of the Crack
In the heart of Aurthora — a city that never sleeps the way its people think — life moved along in a way that seemed ordinary… too ordinary.
The streets were crowded, voices overlapped, and faces were smiling. Everything followed a familiar rhythm, as if the city had learned to repeat itself without mistake. Yet, there was something hidden, something not easily seen, but present in every corner… waiting for someone to notice it.
Serine walked among the people, her steps calm, her gaze moving between faces without a clear purpose. She was not looking for anything specific, but for days she had begun to feel that there was something uncomfortable about this world — something she could not name.
And in that moment, she heard a laugh.
A loud laugh… longer than it should have been.
She paused slightly and turned her head.
Two men stood near a street corner. One was talking, the other laughing. There was nothing in their conversation that warranted that laugh — at least, that is what Serine felt immediately.
She narrowed her eyes.
Why is he laughing?
The question seemed simple, perhaps trivial, but a strange feeling crept into her — a feeling that something was not right. It was not about the laugh itself, but about what lay behind it… the emptiness she felt in it.
She continued walking, trying to ignore the thought.
But she could not.
The laugh still echoed in her mind, as if it had not yet ended. She felt something like annoyance, or perhaps a faint anxiety with no clear reason.
"Just an illusion…" she whispered to herself.
But her voice was not convincing.
She took a few more steps, then stopped suddenly.
"Finally… you are starting to notice."
She froze.
The voice came from above.
She raised her head slowly, as if afraid of what she might see.
On the edge of a low wall sat a man. He looked strangely comfortable, as if the entire place meant nothing to him. One foot dangled in the air, his hand resting on the wall behind him.
He was looking at her.
No… he was not just looking.
He was watching.
"Who are you?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
He smiled.
It was not a friendly smile, nor entirely sarcastic. It was… deliberate.
"That is not the first question you should be asking."
He jumped down lightly, as if the earth did not pull him the way it did everyone else. He approached her with quiet steps, without any hesitation.
Serine felt immediate unease.
He was not directly frightening… and that is what made him more unsettling.
"My name is Craiven," he said, tilting his head slightly. "And you look like someone who has begun to see what is not meant to be seen."
She frowned.
"I do not know what you are talking about."
He laughed. A short laugh this time, but it was dry, as if it came out for no reason.
"Of course you do not. No one knows at the beginning."
He began to circle her slowly, as if studying her — not as a person, but as an idea he was trying to understand.
"Let me ask you a simple question…" he said. "Do you feel that everything is… normal?"
She was silent.
She could have said "yes." That would have been the easiest answer, the safest.
But she could not.
The word came out of her without thinking:
"No."
A brief silence fell.
Then Craiven smiled, more clearly this time.
"Beautiful," he said quietly. "Most people lie here."
She quickly looked up at him.
"I do not lie."
"We all do," he replied simply. "The only difference is… we do not call it a lie."
She stepped back.
"What do you want?"
He raised an eyebrow slightly, as if he liked the question.
"Look at you… straight into fear."
"I am not afraid."
He smiled again, but this time there was something different in his gaze.
"You do not yet know what you should be afraid of."
She hated the way he spoke.
Every sentence he said felt like not an opinion… but a verdict.
"Listen," he said, raising his hands slightly. "I am not your enemy."
"That is what everyone says," she shot back.
"No," he said quietly. "Real enemies do not explain themselves."
Then he pointed to the city around them.
"They are there."
Serine looked around.
People walked, talked, laughed… everything seemed normal.
"What about them?"
He stepped closer and lowered his voice.
"Not a single one of them sees what you see now."
She froze.
"I see nothing."
He smiled.
"Exactly."
A heavy moment passed.
"Do you want to see?"
She looked into his eyes.
There was no madness in them. No clear evil.
Just something worse.
Certainty.
"See what?" she asked.
"The truth."
She shook her head immediately.
"No."
He said quietly:
"A wise decision."
She was surprised by his reply.
"Then why offer it?"
He laughed lightly.
"I do not offer anything. I only… open the door. People are the ones who choose to enter."
He paused for a moment, then added:
"And most of the time… they regret it."
Something inside her told her: leave.
Now.
But she did not move.
"Why me?" she asked.
He looked at her for a few seconds, as if deciding whether to answer.
"Because you noticed the laugh."
Something trembled inside her.
"What laugh?"
He nodded his head toward the back.
She looked.
The two men were still there.
But this time… the laugh was different.
It no longer seemed natural.
It sounded empty.
Like a voice without feeling.
"People do not notice the small details," said Craiven. "Because details lead to questions… and questions lead to things they do not want to know."
Then he looked directly at her.
"And you… you asked."
She swallowed.
"That means nothing."
"It means everything," he said quietly. "The first crack… is always small."
She fell silent.
Then she said:
"If there is truth… why does not everyone see it?"
He smiled, but this time his smile was gentler.
"Because people do not want it."
"That is illogical."
"On the contrary," he said. "That is the most logical thing about them."
He looked at the sky.
The moon hung there, but its shape looked strange, as if there was a flaw in it she had never noticed before.
"The truth is heavy," he said quietly. "And humans can barely carry themselves."
Serine was silent.
She heard his words, but she was not sure whether she agreed with him… or feared him.
Then he said:
"Come."
"Where?"
He pointed to a distant place.
On the horizon, a dark tower loomed mysteriously.
"There is someone… who loves truth more than I do."
She narrowed her eyes.
"And that is supposed to reassure me?"
He smiled.
"No. It is supposed to frighten you."
She hesitated.
"I do not know you."
"Good."
"I do not trust you."
"Better."
"Then why should I follow you?"
He looked at her for a few seconds, then said quietly:
"Because you will not be able to go back to who you were."
She looked at the city.
Everything seemed as it always had.
But… it was no longer the same.
She felt that something small had changed — something not easily fixed.
"That is the problem," said Craiven. "Once you see the crack… you cannot ignore it."
She closed her eyes for a moment.
Then opened them.
And took a deep breath.
"Alright."
He did not look triumphant.
It was as if he had known this would happen.
He turned and began to walk.
She followed.
And in that moment, she did not know whether she was stepping toward the truth…
Or toward something she would never be able to escape.
End of Chapter One
---