The Chronicles of Marum - The Primordial

Change (Zilevo) - Parte II

ACT II

Máterum, with a paternal glint in his eyes, leans towards me in the sand, tenderness overflowing in his voice. "Did you like it, heart?" He asks, holding a notebook full of sketches, each page revealing glimpses of a future full of wonders.

With eyes wide in admiration, I respond enthusiastically. "Yes, Father!" With each page he turns, my fascination grows. Before me, the sketch of Malbork, a colossal structure, is revealed in meticulous detail. The fortress, drawn with impressive precision, seems to cross the skies of Primárium, dominating the horizon with walls that appear to touch the stars.

Máterum, with a proud smile, kneels beside me, coming closer to share each detail. "This will be our home in a few centuries, heart!" he declares, pointing to other drawings as the sun's rays bathe the golden sand and a gentle breeze blows from the horizon. "This will be our garden and this our..."

Absorbed in reading the names of future creations, I lose myself in thought, barely hearing Máterum's words. "Miramer. Animals..." I read in a low voice.

"Beautiful creations, father," Tanri congratulates, interrupting my reading. His praise is serene, but the tension in his voice does not go unnoticed, evidenced by his presence marked by a smile that laboriously tries to mask his resentment. His eyes, although shining with a flicker of admiration for Máterum's creations, also carry a visible resentment.

With an air of veiled challenge, Tanri questions Máterum. "When will you trust us to help you in their creation?" His posture, though respectful, reveals a latent impatience, a desire to be more than just a spectator in his father's feats.

Máterum, sensing the complexity of Tanri's feelings, responds with calm and authority, but with a touch of paternal affection. "When the day comes, I will let you know." He gently and deliberately collects the papers from my hands, leaving only the drawing of Malbork with me.

Tanri, standing there, stands out not only for his precocious mastery of telekinesis but also for his physical presence. Despite his fragile appearance, similar to his siblings, there is something in him that radiates inherent strength, a raw and powerful potential for extinction. He is a prodigy among the gods, his face reflecting a serene beauty and strength that contradict his youth.

Internally, Tanri struggles with his thoughts. He sees himself capable of performing great feats but feels underestimated and confined to the fringes of Máterum's creations. This feeling of being in his father's shadow, despite his talent and potential, fills him with frustration.

"At least teach us to create. That way, you won't have to remodel our failed creations again, as you did with the previous ones," says Tanri, his voice tinged with a resentment that had lain dormant until now.

Máterum, rising with a serenity that contrasts with Tanri's tension, responds with a voice full of patience and paternal wisdom. "Your creations are not failures, son. They were just imperfect. They encompassed formidable and singular beauty," he says, trying to instill confidence in Tanri, whose eyes shine with skepticism.

"Pretty words, only to avoid calling them defective," reiterates Tanri, filling his hands with sand. "This is what we create!" Throwing handfuls of sand to the ground in a dramatic gesture. "There is no comparison between this and this!" He exclaims, pointing to the scattered sand and then to the paper in my hands, in an effort to highlight the disparity between his creations and Máterum's.

"You're right, my son. My creation is much inferior to yours and your siblings'," Máterum responds, with a soft and understanding expression, approaching Tanri, who slightly recoils, still immersed in his insecurities.