Have you ever wondered if the stories we hear as children are more than just tales? Are the myths, legends, and dreams that whisper to us in the darkness, in some way, real?
I used to think they were just echoes of the imagination until I met her.
It was a long time ago when I was still a wandering merchant. I was young, full of yearnings and dreams, very different from the man I am now, with more than a thousand journeys under my belt.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I had never spoken to her that rainy night.
The sky roared, and the storm devoured the world in shadows and lightning. I was seeking shelter when I saw her: sitting by a lonely campfire, motionless, as if the cold and rain couldn't touch her.
There was something about her... Not just the posture of a warrior, a veteran of forgotten wars, but also the gaze of those who have spent their lives trying to understand the world.
Perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps it was destiny. Although if what that woman told me is true... It's best not to think about it now.
I leaned closer, hesitant.
—"Can I stay by the fire?"
She didn't answer immediately. She just looked at me.
And that was when I truly saw her.
Seeing her and telling about her are different things. I don't remember her face clearly, only that she was beautiful, like a fairy from a childhood story, but at the same time... she changed. The light from the flames seemed to sculpt and erase her features with every blink.
What I do remember with absolute certainty is the blindfold covering her eyes. Black as night, but inside it—I swear—I saw stars flickering, entire constellations trapped in its fabric. And, at the same time, I saw something else: something dark burning away inside the blindfold, moving away and closer as if fighting against its destiny. And even beyond, a formless shadow loomed over me, as if it wanted to devour me.
Then it spoke.
And her voice... Her voice sounded as if she had told this story a thousand times before, to kings and beggars, travelers and gods alike.
Tell me, dear reader, I understand that you are often accustomed to thinking of these things as the ramblings of a lonely traveler, and I don't blame you. But understand me: I am a man to whom every secret has been revealed and made known. I am not doing this for a name, nor to be the figure of the moment. This book was written to record the stories of that woman.
I look at the sky and am horrified by what I now see: beings smiling with the stars, encompassing the heavenly bodies in indescribable shapes. There are times when I go out to do my daily shopping, and I panic at the mere thought that those hideous creatures, those errors of reality, creatures of a thousand forms, could be the person beside me.
The beautiful young woman smiling at me, the child innocently playing with the dog, or the man tired from work, sitting next to me. This is a warning to you, whoever ventures to read and interpret what I write. It is not just the story of one narrator, but the testimony of hundreds of men and women, children and the elderly, who have encountered the horrible truth... or the sweetest consolation.
Now, allow me the pleasure of sharing with you this anthology about the è̵̼̦̱̲̪̥̞͇̇̓ͅt̵̛̹̗̠̦͍̳͇͈̮̍̅̔̎̋̈́ȇ̸̥̞̦͉̣͕̾͋͐r̶̙̘̖̞̹̥̖̲͉̐ǹ̸͍̣̰̳̻͕̳͍̗i̶̢̱̗̾͌͋̏̚ṱ̷̪̩̽̀̽ȳ̵̭͖͖̫̣̠͔͖͔́̈̐͆́͠