Chronicles of the Cycle: When the Sun is Blue

The Breaking of the Seal

The night fell heavy over Fosack. The air was charged with an unnatural stillness, as if the continent itself were holding its breath for something that had been contained for centuries. In the depths of a forgotten clearing, someone walked in circles over ground marked with ancient symbols. The drawing had been there since before the cities grew, etched into living stone in the center of the continent. It was not a perfect circle, but a weave of interlocking lines, impossible runes that seemed to shift when the moonlight fell upon them. The heart of Fosack. The place of the seal.

The hooded figure knelt in the middle of the lines. From an iron-bound box, they removed a small vial. Inside, a dark liquid shimmered as if it had trapped the light of the stars. Noxis. The last of it that remained pure, guarded for generations in the vaults of the dynasty. With steady hands, they poured a few drops onto the runes carved in the stone. The air changed instantly. The ground vibrated as if it were breathing.

The next step demanded more. The figure removed the glove from their left hand. With a thin blade, they opened a wound in their palm. Blood fell, mixing with the Noxis. The runes drank the liquid like thirsty sand. The blood of a descendant of Aeon had touched the seal.

The air in the clearing ignited in blue flashes. The wind began to spiral, though there was no storm. The branches of the trees groaned; birds fled in panicked flocks.

A voice, barely a whisper, emerged from the hooded figure. Ancient, forbidden words that no longer belonged to the modern world:

“Fire of eternity, light of fading stars… ancient guardians of nature, hear my call.” The runes blazed, becoming lines of blue fire that encircled the figure. “Let the seal of forbidden blood be broken. Let the door of punishment open. Return to this world what was stolen from it.”

The ground fractured with a dull roar. A crack raced across the stone, and from it erupted an invisible flare, a shockwave that rippled through the air. Across all of Fosack, something shuddered. Lamps flickered in the cities. Clocks stopped for a single second. In the ports, the sea churned as if a force had torn through its depths.

The seal had yielded.

The figure lowered their head, their face still hidden in shadow. Their breath was ragged, but a flicker of satisfaction shone in their eyes. No one in the world would know what had happened that night. No one, except her. And yet, the Cycle had begun to stir.

days before...

Miguel:

The classroom at Rixus Institute had a certain solemnity in the air. High ceilings, wide windows, light filtering through stained glass that cast bluish reflections on the wooden desks. Everything seemed designed to make you feel small before the grandeur of Fosack.

Maestra Zara stood at the front. Her posture was straight, impeccable. She had an air of authority that required no shouting. She simply spoke, and everyone listened.

“Today, we welcome a new classmate,” she said, and all eyes turned to me. “Please introduce yourself.”

I stood up, taking a deep breath.

“Hi, I’m Miguel. I come from the Nation of Abrak. I’m fifteen, I like plants, and I’m fascinated by the sea. I hope I can learn from you all… and that you can learn something from me, too.” A few people chuckled softly, but I didn’t mind. I always speak my mind. Being afraid isn't the bad part. Letting it drag you down is.

Zara nodded, her eyes calmly assessing me. “Very well, Miguel. You may sit next to Karol. She will be your link for the year.” A girl raised her hand, smiling at me naturally. I sat down beside her. Her brown hair fell over her shoulders, and her eyes held the spark of a curious person.

The class began. History. It had always been my favorite subject, though I never fully trusted what was taught as “official.” Zara spoke of the continent of Fosack as a single, indivisible plate, a territory where the nations had found stability through technological advancements and political agreements. Too perfect. Too clean.

My mind drifted to what I had read and heard in Abrak. The rumors. The fishermen's songs spoke of portals that connected worlds, of a sun that once shone blue in the sky. Travelers repeated stories of sudden storms, of places where the air seemed to vibrate with invisible energy. All of it, in the official books, was reduced to folklore.

I didn’t believe it.

I raised my hand, unable to stop myself. “Maestra… why do we never talk about the portals?”

A heavy silence fell over the classroom. Zara stopped writing. Her eyes locked onto mine.

“Portals?” she repeated, with a calmness that hid something more.

“Yes. And about magic… before the New Genesis.”

Murmurs erupted around me. Some laughed, others looked at me as if I had uttered a heresy. Zara walked to my desk and placed her hand on its surface.

“History is based on proven facts, Miguel. Not on rumors or superstitions.”

I shrugged but held her gaze. “In Abrak, they say every myth holds a spark of truth.”

For an instant, something glittered in her eyes. Not anger. Something else. As if my words had reminded her of something that was meant to be forgotten. The class continued, but I was no longer listening. I felt I had crossed an invisible line.

Karol leaned toward me. “Are you always this direct?”

“I guess so,” I smiled. “Being afraid isn't the bad part. Letting it drag you down is.” She let out a small laugh.

“I like you.”

The campus was enormous. Karol led me from one building to another: the library, the laboratories, the gardens filled with sculptures. But what caught my attention the most were the ancient murals scattered throughout the hallways. One of them depicted a sun painted blue, surrounded by human figures gazing at it with a mixture of fear and reverence. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” Karol said. “No one knows what it means, and not even the teachers explain it.”

I moved closer, touching the cracks in the paint.

“Maybe it means more than they want us to know.” Karol watched me with that blend of curiosity and mistrust I was beginning to recognize in her. “You talk as if you really believe in those rumors.”

“Because I think they’re hiding something.” I don’t know why, but I felt I could trust the look in her eyes.

The cafeteria was full. The aroma of fresh bread and coffee filled the air. We sat by a window. “So…” Karol said, resting her elbows on the table. “What do you think happened to magic?”

I took a deep breath. “That it was sealed. That someone decided to lock it away. And the portals stopped opening because magic was the key.” She smiled, amused. “That sounds like a conspiracy theory.”

“Maybe it is.”

“And why do you care so much?” I looked out the window. The mural of the blue sun seemed to be looking back at me. “Because if it’s true… then everything we know is only one side of the story. And I want to know the other side.”

Karol fell silent, watching me. That night, in the dorm, I lay on my bed with my shoes still on. I couldn’t stop thinking about Zara, about Karol, the murals, the rumors. And, without knowing why, I remembered the words of the Abrak fishermen: When the sun shines blue, the Cycle will awaken. I didn’t know if it was a warning or a promise.

But something inside me told me I was about to find out.