Legend LIV – The Guardian of the Silent Gate

More about Legend LIV – The Guardian of the Silent Gate

Deep in the heart of the Aeravas jungle, where even the light dances hesitantly among the treetops and the earth's breath pulses in an ancient rhythm, lies a place as old as the world's first memory. Few know of it, and those who do speak of it only in legends, for whoever finds the way to the Silent Gate has long since ceased to walk ordinary steps. The place rests like a heartbeat of the past: overgrown steps leading up into the twilight, ancient pillars embraced by moss and a thousand forgotten seasons, and above them a stone gate that resembles a dream more than a door from this world. Yet at the center of it all stands he, motionless yet alive: the guardian. He is called Varukan, the Silent God, though no one knew if he had ever been a god or merely an echo of one. His skin, with its jade-like sheen, felt neither warm nor cold; his eyes, half-opened as if by an ancient awakening, seemed to hold a gaze that saw through all time and through every newcomer. In his raised hand lay a sign, not a greeting nor a warning, but something in between—as if he were stopping the world itself, forcing it to listen. For eons he had not spoken a word, for the Silent Gate does not open because someone asks for it, but because someone is willing to bear the truth that lies beyond. Many sought him, but only one found him in that time when the forests of Aeravas were shrouded in shadow and people no longer remembered the voices of the ancients. A wanderer named Thalir, torn by doubt and question, had lost everything: home, friends, future. He wandered the world like a leaf in a storm, until the winds of fate carried him deep into the emerald maw of the jungle. There he heard a murmur—not from humans, not from animals. It was the breath of the earth itself calling him. And Thalir followed it, barefoot, hungry, but driven by a longing stronger than any fear. As he climbed the last steps to the gate, the forest fell silent. No bird dared to sing, no leaves rustled, even the light paused. And Varukan slowly opened his eyes. Thalir felt the air grow heavy, as if the god had captured space itself between two breaths. Then it happened: not with words, but with a look, Varukan spoke to him. A look that tore Thalir's past like a thin veil, revealing beneath what he feared—and what he had forgotten. He saw himself as a child, listening, dreaming. He saw himself as a man, broken, searching. And he saw the truth he had never dared to speak: that he feared not the world, but himself. Then silence fell upon him, deeper than any night. And the guardian lowered his hand, so gently as if touching the breath of a dying man. The Silent Gate began to shimmer. Not to open—for some doors open not outward, but inward.