BELLUM AERTERNUM ""balance at risk"

Dear readers, before starting to read I would like to clarify one thing and that is that the book will be divided into the stories of the past of the most important characters, over time they will go away putting together creating the main story that will then begin at the point where the plot should start, therefore at the beginning most of the stories that are focused on the past of the characters, when I see it necessary we will begin with the story as it should be, thank you very much and I hope you like it. Since he can remember, Zaharut has lived in the remote Altevia Mountains, a place where the sky seems to fall over the peaks and the icy wind whispers secrets that only he can hear. The vast expanse of snow, rock, and forest had become his entire world—a place as imposing as it was lonely. His earliest memories are filled with the warmth of home: the soft glow of the fire in the cabin, lighting up the rough wooden walls, the strong yet gentle hands of Igor teaching him how to hold a tool for the first time, and Beleth's serene voice telling stories about the stars while shadows danced on the ceiling. For Zaharut, those early moments were his first connection to the world. Every word from Beleth, every gesture from Igor, seemed to have a purpose, as if they were preparing their son for a destiny he couldn't yet understand. When Zaharut was about three years old, he began exploring the world around him. He could barely walk without stumbling, but Beleth insisted he needed to learn to listen to the sounds of the forest before venturing deeper into it. The snow crunched beneath his little feet as he tried to follow his mother down a frost-covered path. The tall, majestic trees seemed to watch over him, their bare branches stretching out like fingers against the gray sky. One afternoon, while following Beleth down a snowy path, he tripped and fell face-first into the snow. The cold seeped deep into his bones, and for a moment, tears threatened to fall. But Beleth didn’t rush to lift him up. Instead, she crouched down to his level, her green eyes shining with a mix of sternness and tenderness. "The ground’s not your enemy, Zaharut. Learn from it," she said, her voice firm, her breath forming little clouds in the icy air. With his small hands buried in the snow, Zaharut struggled to get up on his own. His legs trembled under his weight, but he finally managed to stand. Beleth watched from a nearby rock, her arms crossed and a faint smile on her lips. It was in that moment that he began to develop the resilience Beleth thought was essential for surviving in such a harsh place. That night, when Igor found out what happened, he frowned, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat beside Zaharut by the fire and handed him a small wooden knife he had carved with care. “If the world ever feels too big, this will remind you that you can always shape it to your will,” he said, while the boy stroked the gift with admiration, feeling in his hands something more than just an object. As Zaharut grew, he developed a deep bond with the forests and skies. Beleth taught him to identify healing plants, trees that seemed to hold secrets, and constellations that changed with the seasons. Each lesson was a journey, a window into a world full of mysteries. When he was six, his mother took him to a clearing in the forest at night. The stars shone with such intensity that it took his breath away, as if the whole universe had conspired for that moment. With a hand on his shoulder, Beleth pointed to the sky. “Do you see that star, the one that flickers?” she asked, her voice a whisper filled with reverence. Zaharut nodded, captivated by the blinking light that seemed to wink at him from above. “It’s the star of the wanderer. Those destined to walk alone can always rely on it to find their way.” From that day on, Zaharut began to see nature as an ally, though he couldn’t shake the feeling that Beleth spoke as if she knew something he didn’t. Every night, as he looked at that star, he felt a strange comfort, as if part of his future was written in the sky. Igor, on the other hand, taught him the practical side of life. By the time Zaharut was nine, he already knew how to chop firewood, repair tools, and set traps to catch small animals. His father’s calloused, firm hands guided his as he learned to use tools with precision. Once, while they were working together to fix the cabin roof, Zaharut asked his father why they never went beyond the mountains. It was a question that had lingered in his mind for a long time, a yearning to discover what lay beyond the confines of their home. Igor, always careful with his words, answered thoughtfully: “Sometimes, son, what we leave behind isn’t as important as what we choose to build here.” Though Igor’s words comforted him, Zaharut couldn’t ignore the feeling that his father was carrying an invisible weight. There was a melancholy in his eyes, a trace of something Zaharut couldn’t yet decipher. That uncertainty became a shadow that would follow him for the years to come. At twelve, Zaharut had an encounter that would shape his life. While exploring the forest, he heard a low, guttural growl. He froze, his senses alert. Turning his head, he saw a large, starving wolf watching him from between the trees. The animal was a mix of power and desperation, its ribs visible beneath a rough coat. Zaharut felt fear, a primal fear that ran up his spine, but he remembered Beleth’s lessons. He stayed still, locking eyes with the animal, as if trying to read its intentions. The moment felt eternal, every second filled with tension. Just before the wolf could strike, a whistle cut through the air, followed by a dart that landed in the ground in front of the animal. It was Beleth, standing just a few meters away, her figure wrapped in an aura of unbreakable authority. The wolf fled, disappearing into the trees, and she approached Zaharut with firm steps. “Fear is a useful instinct, but never let it control you. If you want to survive here, you need to be like the wolf: fast, strong, and always alert,” she said, her eyes fixed on his. Those words stayed with Zaharut, becoming a mantra that would accompany him through the hardest moments. In his adolescence, Zaharut began to question his isolation more. At fourteen, during a conversation with Igor, he dared to ask why they lived so far removed from everything. “Wouldn’t it be easier to live somewhere we didn’t have to fight so much against the cold and loneliness?” Igor sighed, looking at the snowy horizon. His face reflected a mix of nostalgia and resignation. “Sometimes, solitude is a refuge. And other times, it’s a prison. But it’s always a place where you learn who you truly are.” Meanwhile, Beleth intensified her teachings, speaking to him about invisible energies and powers that flowed through the earth and sky. She showed him how to feel the vibrations of the ground beneath his feet, how to interpret the changes in the wind, and how to read the signs from the animals. One night, while Zaharut practiced focusing on the movement of the leaves, Beleth leaned in and whispered: “One day, Zaharut, you’ll understand that you’re not here by chance.” Her words were an enigma, a mystery Zaharut promised himself he would solve. Each day that passed, he felt like his place in the Altevia Mountains was intricately connected to something much bigger than he could comprehend