The air vibrates tonight. It’s not just the wind; it carries something I cannot name, a pulse that runs across my skin and resonates in my bones. I don’t know if it has always been there, or if I had forgotten it and it’s now returning, demanding its place.
There are moments when I feel as old as the roots sinking beneath forgotten cities. Not because of the years I carry on my shoulders, but because of the memories. So many… and so profound. Some as sweet as warm honey. Others… wounds that still burn, though no one can see them.
I have witnessed things beyond all comprehension. Days when the light seemed to vanish suddenly, nights when the sky split open in luminous cracks. I have walked through tunnels where stone concealed the oldest secrets. I have felt the heat of suns reflected upon living fields on my skin. And I have watched, from high above, how clouds laden with hydrogen intertwined with lights that do not belong to our sun.
I have suffered losses so deep that I thought silence would be my only inheritance. But I have also seen victories. Bridges built between peoples who once believed themselves enemies. Seeds sprouting in ruins where no one thought life could exist. Ancient songs sung in blended tongues that no side had ever fully owned.
I have lived long enough to know that the boundaries between things are not as solid as they seem. Between sand and sea, between the natural and the artificial, between sky and earth… there is always something that mingles, that transforms.
Sometimes I close my eyes and hear the echoes of voices that no longer exist. Voices that laughed. That wept. That swore never to forget. And yet, almost everything is forgotten with time.
But not everything.
There’s something that has never left, that has remained dormant. It’s this gentle vibration, like a murmur coursing through my entire being. On quiet days, it’s barely noticeable. But tonight… it’s there, pulsing, as if someone or something is trying to catch my attention.
Perhaps I shouldn’t speak of this, or even think about it. But the truth is, it has always been there, long before anyone gave it a name.
I close my eyes. I take a deep breath. There’s a strange taste in the air. Maybe it’s only my imagination… or maybe not.
Perhaps it’s the sign I’ve been waiting for.
I’ve spent so long keeping this story in silence. At times, I wondered if it would be better to bury it alongside the other secrets of the world. But I can’t anymore. I mustn’t.
Because what happened then didn’t merely change the world that existed. It’s still beating beneath every stone, in every breath. And what is yet to come… will need all that we have been. And all that we can still become.
There’s someone to whom I must tell the truth. Someone who needs to know. Because what lies ahead is not merely the echo of the past… but the key to choosing where the future will go.
Yes… the time has come. They must know where they come from… to dare to choose where they wish to go.
“…and as I close my eyes, I wonder if the one who hears me understands that they have already begun walking toward their own destiny.”
THE END.
Tonight, as memories stir, a wise voice rises. The story of NUVAGAIA is about to be told… at last.
Discover the “Prologue” of Transmissions Of The Void and hear the first echo of this journey. (For an immersive experience 🎧 listen to the podcast with headphones.)
Join our protagonists on this journey by following Transmissions Of The Void on Spotify!
Explore NUVAGAIA, follow the signals:
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