Somewhere in North-Western Norway
60,000 years ago
Waves crashed against the rocky shore of the island while more clouds stormed across the horizon. The port breakwater stood impassive, protecting the last of the slender, elegant ships that were being hurriedly loaded. A bustling sea of people worked tirelessly to fill the boats with provisions and cargo while an ever-greater number of passengers boarded alongside them.
The city resembled a marble ocean in shades of blue and green; it was formed by palaces and large buildings that were dotted all over with the lush greenery of trees and cleaved through by wide stone avenues. The port area thronged with the city’s inhabitants who were heading to the ships with their most prized possessions. One vast building with a dome of titanic proportions stood out above the rest, dominating the center of the city. On the outskirts, several camps broiled with the activity of thousands of warriors focused on their various tasks.
A little further on, at the top of a hill that crowned the city, a tall figure stood upright on the balcony of a beautiful palazzo, watching the scene below with sorrowful eyes. His face was a portrait of intelligence and was marked by many summers and winters. And yet he retained the drive and vitality of the most energetic days of his youth. His firm, sinewy body, used to decades of physical exertion, was tense, closely reflecting the inner turmoil troubling his mind.
A slender, graceful figure approached him from behind, giving him a gentle caress and gazing at him with a tender look through eyes that were pools of great wisdom. Every movement she made as she touched him was charged with love.
“Our people have finished preparing for exile. You must be calm, all will be well,” she kissed the back of his neck fleetingly.
“I am calm. I know our people have given their utmost but it is a great sacrifice that I have asked of them. This is a burden I shall never cease to bear,” he turned to stare deep into her eyes.
“You are the Great Father of our people. No one doubts the path you have chosen for us and I know, from the depths of my soul, that our actions are the correct ones. Now, join me inside. Bid your son and beloved wife farewell, for although you will be ever present in my heart and mind, we shall not see each other again in this world,” tears began to gently trickle down her rosy cheeks.
They entered the room that led onto the balcony and approached a wood-carved cradle decorated with countless different runes where their child lay resting. They both gazed down at him with great tenderness; the tiny newborn slept peacefully, wrapped in a thin blanket.
“Wife, take care of him and make sure he grows up strong and healthy in body and mind. He is the fruit of all my labors and the key to the survival of our people,” he brought his index finger and middle finger to his lips to kiss them and then touch the child's forehead with them, drawing the symbol that represented him.
“I will, husband mine. Your son shall grow up healthy and follow your teachings. As will all your descendants; our mark will live on in them until its time comes.”
She drew close to him and gave him a soft, deep kiss on the lips. Pure tears once again brimmed in her eyes. He gave her a powerful embrace and whispered a few words in her ear. Then she picked up her son and brought the child close to him. He kissed the baby on his forehead. Moments later, he watched as his wife and child left the room to join the entourage waiting for them at the palace’s entrance.
The great father returned to the balcony and gazed down at his beloved as she headed towards her ship with his first-born. She half-turned to blow him a farewell kiss as crystal clear tears ran down her serene face. He surveyed the city that spread out before him. Despite now lying in the shadows of an increasingly overcast sky, he never failed to be astounded by what his people had been capable of creating. This strengthened his resolve. He knew that the sacrifice he had to make would not be in vain.
He cast his eyes over the city, his home, his civilization, his brothers and sisters, his children. Everything and everyone were ready. He knew this, nevertheless, the fate that awaited them would be hard, very hard. He picked up his golden, winged helmet and ceremoniously placed it on his head. He fastened his cape and protective armor and, finally, took up his spear, legendary among his people. His children were waiting below, those that would share the same fate and on whom surviving the battle of the end of time depended.
He raised his eyes to the horizon. The storm was coming, bringing the darkness with it, a blackness that had never been seen before and that would overshadow any possible futures. He had seen it before, and now, more than ever, he could feel it was close, very close…