With the fire consuming everything around him, Domine found himself not only forced to cross the threshold of the house, but also to break through the internal barriers that had long imprisoned his doubts. The path to his father was, in a sense, a reflection of a journey he would have to take within himself: a confrontation with the truth, what remained of the old, and the possibility of a new future. But he knew that to understand the truth of his father, he would first have to understand what was going on inside of him.
As Domine moved forward, the winds grew in intensity, pushing him forward with an uncontrollable force. Each step seemed to lead him deeper into the heart of a chaos that was not just the external world, but also the storm within him. The land, which had once been familiar, now seemed to crumble beneath his feet, as if everything was falling apart to make way for something new. He didn't know what he would find at the end of this journey, but he felt he could no longer turn back.
Suddenly, Domine was overwhelmed by flashes, like flames in his mind. Figures, unspoken words, lost moments swirled together in the heat of his thoughts. He saw his father, but not as the man he remembered, but as a shadow wrapped in fire and light, as if he himself were part of the shadows and flames consuming him in a dream, the same ones that had always made him question. He didn't know what all this meant, but one thing was certain: his father was somehow immersed in this game of shadows and flames. And he would have to face whatever lay ahead to finally understand his legacy.
Domine was lost in his own thoughts, the burning mission in his mind, when suddenly he was interrupted by an unexpected collision. He turned, surprised, to find Ticius.
The young man was there, careless and carefree, his brown hair tousled as if he had spent days without even noticing the wind that had unraveled it. He didn't seem to care about the gravity of the situation around him. On the contrary, he was there as though he had inserted himself into a conversation uninvited, with a wide smile and a nearly indifferent look, as if he were just another part of the landscape.
Ticius did not seem, at first glance, to be someone with whom Domine would share a life-or-death mission. His gaze, somewhat distant and dreamy, did not reflect the harsh realities surrounding his world. He was the son of the guard, the prototype of a man shaped by the silent strength of his father, but, at his core, still a free soul, at the mercy of the uncertainties of a destiny that seemed more fluid than determined.
Ticius' posture was relaxed, almost carefree, as if life were something to be traversed slowly and without hurry, even though he carried with him the responsibility of being the son of the man who watched over the city. There was an innocence in his gestures, as if his life experience had been forged in the shadows of his father rather than in the battles he himself would face. His gaze, lost somewhere distant, seemed to contemplate something Domine couldn't see.
Ticius' father was memorable in the city. Lanfric. Someone a native from such a small village couldn't help but fantasize about. Even what popular prose had managed to penetrate Domine's ears, he had come from a distant land from the North, where the cutting wind and darkness seemed to be constant companions of the landscape. The region, marked by relentless coldness and the silence of vast plains, left its marks on people, as if the very environment tested the endurance of its inhabitants. He carried the traits of that place: the distant gaze, as someone who had looked at the horizon many times but had never found complete answers. There was something in his posture, restrained and severe, that seemed to reflect a deep bond with the trials of the north, as if his soul had been shaped by a kind of silent discipline, almost imperceptible, but one that had forged him. His face bore no joy of one touched by light, but the stillness of one who knew that in the darkness, a purer strength was found, a strength that, over time, would be revealed in the shadows. The north, for him, was not just a cardinal point, but a state of mind, a search for something beyond the light that could only be revealed at the end of the journey.
When their eyes met, there was a moment of silent recognition. Without another word, Ticius spoke, his voice calm and unconcerned:
"Ah, there you are!" said Ticius with enthusiasm, not seeming to notice the tension in the air. "So, what are you doing here, mate? Doesn't look like you're just strolling through the city, does it?"
He paused, leaning forward a bit, curious. "And tell me, what is it you're really looking for? Because, you know, if it's something interesting, I think I could lend a hand. I'm not one to shy away from a good story, you know?"
Domine, stunned, took a slight step back, still not fully understanding the young man's attitude. Ticius then gave a wide grin, almost as if he didn't know where he began or ended, but one thing seemed clear to him: if there was something to be done, he wanted to be a part of it.
"Hey, I know, it might not be the best time, but... maybe it'd be interesting if I came with you. Could be fun. After all, who doesn't love a good journey, right? What do you think?" He took a step forward, with the enthusiasm typical of one who inserts themselves into things without much reflection, but always with an air of boundless confidence.
With a fixed gaze ahead, as though the chaos around him were nothing more than a distant shadow, Domine gave a slight wave of his hand, as if to dismiss Ticius's presence, though it was clear he did not wish to be rude. The situation demanded focus, and the young man before him seemed unaware of the gravity of the moment. The fire consumed a part of the village, and the disorder spreading was not a mere setback, but a growing threat that could engulf everything Domine knew. While Domine felt the pressure of the flames and the heat drawing closer, Ticius appeared to still be trapped in his own world, one where danger and urgency had no place.
It was evident to Domine that Ticius was nothing more than the son of the watchman, Lanfric. His light, carefree behaviour and almost childlike nature stood in stark contrast to the severity of the situation. He did not seem to understand that there was more at stake than just any old story. Domine, who had already endured more than his fair share of desperation and struggle, knew immediately that this was not the time for idle chatter or distractions. Ticius, with his carefree posture, was not the watchman, and although he bore the name of a respected man, he was still far from shouldering the responsibility his father carried.
With a deep sigh, Domine set aside his own doubts and pointed with a swift, decisive motion towards the path ahead, where the fire had already begun to spread, consuming the first parts of the field. His hand made a clear gesture, an invitation made out of necessity, as if there was no time for debate. "Follow me," was all he said, his voice firm but devoid of emotion. There was no room for hesitation. If Ticius wanted to be involved, he would have to learn to see beyond his own distraction and understand the urgency of it all.
Without waiting for Ticius's response, Domine started walking, his steps quick, the fire reflected in his eyes, which were now sharper than ever. The young man, still disoriented, seemed to hesitate for a moment, but soon stood up and followed him, perhaps finally realising that he was faced with something that required more of him than just a spontaneous response. Whatever was happening, they could no longer wait. The field ahead called to them, and with it, the fire that threatened to engulf the village.