Half prologue to a light seed in the golden fields where childhood rests.
The boy ran after the wind. Aioros, small name among old olive trees,
But big enough to talk to stars.
The boy in the fields dreamed of the sky where constellations danced in veil.
A pure heart, a lion's soul. He barely knew of the cruel betrayal.
And when the night called him, he raised his eyes to Sagittarius
And said softly, like a secret when I grew up,
I will protect the world.
At that moment, the gods already knew they would be afraid of him.
Now the man in front of the celestial bow. Aioros feels the weight of eternity on his hands.
The metal pulsates hot like blood, cold like responsibility.
I'm just the mortal, he thinks.
While he touches the weapon made of stars. But Sagittarius breathes in his heart.
Heroes are not chosen, they choose.
And the oath is not born with words, but with silence that only exists
when destiny fits in the chest.
He promises to protect the weak, challenge tyranny
and, if necessary, fight against heaven itself.
This is the day when the hero lights up and starts to fall.
According to the movement, the conspiracy of the sacred men.
In the depths of the temple, where the light does not enter and the faith rots.
Black tunic priests whisper, these men do not serve the gods, they serve the power.
Aioros threatens his secrets. Aioros sees too much.
Aioros does not bend, crooked prophets with cloudy eyes invent signs in the ashes.
He will bring ruin, he is the profane wolf.
And the people, broken by fear, shout to the nobles, blinded by pride, accept the gods.
Silence.
The lie becomes a decree and the decree becomes a sentence.
Angel in third movement, the escape through the mountains of bronze.
Aioros runs, not for the body, but for the soul that still wants to live.
The mountains of bronze shine threatening, sharp peaks like the spears of the Titans.
Valleys where the fog whispers the secrets of the dead.
Behind him, the sound of sandals and steel, brothers in arms, men who trained, men who love.
Why don't you see the truth? Aioros shouts, but the echo returns.
Traitor, traitor.
An arrow tears his skin, another crosses his shoulder.
The pain is intense, but the loneliness is worse.
Even so, I continue.
And he continues.
Peter in fourth movement, the last confrontation.
At the top of the hill, where the dawn breaks.
The pursuers surround him with cold faces.
Heavy breathing, the rain falls, mixing with the blood in his chest.
Aioros raises his bow, trembling.
But his eyes, his eyes are calm, the eyes of those who have seen the end.
He still chose to fight.
Listen to me, he says.
The voice is weak, but the world is silent.
I never betrayed you, I only betrayed the unfair fate that you tried to impose on me.
Silence.
Hearts excite.
Guilt breathes in the air.
So, Aioros points the arrow to the sky, not to kill, but to declare.
His truth.
And whispers.
If my words are not enough, my light, speak for me.
