Author's Note
Before anything else, I want to thank you for choosing to read my book. That means a lot to me, and I hope the story manages to touch you in some way. But I need to be honest: you might find some mistakes in the English translation. I sincerely apologize for that, in case something doesn't sound natural or causes any confusion.
Portuguese is my first language, and English... well, let's say it's not my strong suit. I'm not very proficient or fluent in it, and that limited me quite a bit. To bring this story to you, I used artificial intelligence to help with the translation. It was the best resource I had at hand, but I know it's not perfect and some slips might have gotten through.
Writing this book in Portuguese was something I did with a lot of care and dedication. I wanted to share this journey with readers in other languages, and the English translation was my attempt to make that happen. Even if the result has its flaws, my wish is that the spirit of the story still reaches you.
So, I ask for a bit of patience and understanding. If you can look past the possible mistakes, I hope you find something special in the pages I wrote. Thank you for being here and for giving my voice a chance!
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That memory sliced through me like a blade, a merciless contrast between what once existed and what lingered. In the darkness that engulfed me, shards of a former life resurfaced—fragments that seemed to belong to a stranger. My mother… Celestia Black. Her name struck my chest with weight, bearing echoes of a time when the world felt lighter, almost untainted. Her smile—a faint beam of warmth—her eyes as clear as fractured crystal, her voice a fusion of resilience and gentleness… all of it still thrived within me.
I, Elyon Celestia Black, was the anomaly in this tale. Hair white as snow, eyes shimmering with hues, a mirror of the aurora borealis captured in my gaze. Too distinct. Perhaps a flaw carved by nature. But to her?
—"You are perfect, Elyon."
The unwavering certainty in her voice anchored me.
The grand hall of the house sprawled wide and silent, as though memories nestled in every fissure of its walls. The air hung thick, laced with threads of a past I sought to evade.
—"Good morning, Elyon. Today, we embark on a lesson that could alter the trajectory of your life."
Her voice cut through the stillness, resolute yet tender.
—"Good morning, Mother. What wisdom will you impart this time?"
She smiled, her eyes alight with an unnamed spark.
—"Always remember: treat every woman as though she were a princess. In doing so, they'll recognize you were nurtured under a queen's grace."
I frowned, puzzled.
—"Why such emphasis on this, Mother?"
—"Because the world is a maze of trials. Your mind must exude respect and refinement, even as everything around you threatens to collapse."
I recalled the books I consumed—Machiavelli, Robert Greene—riddles that provoked me with every turn of the page.
—"I've immersed myself in Machiavelli's words, in Greene's… at times, each passage unfolds like a mystery."
—"And that's precisely why those words will unlock life's secrets, even in its harshest moments."
She paused. Silence draped over us like a shroud. Then, with a gentle sweep of her hand, she gestured toward the house, her movements almost sacred.
—"Look closely: this home—what we call humble—is your fortress. Three bedrooms, three living spaces, a kitchen brimming with vitality, a gym, and even a pool for the sweltering days."
I surveyed the space. The aged walls, the weathered floor—to me, it all pulsed with life.
—"Every corner feels like a palace, Mother. Each nook hides a secret yearning to be unveiled."
In the garden, the breeze carried the fragrance of flowers, a scent that clung to the skin. Her words drifted, light as petals.
—"Today, we'll speak of love and wisdom. Heed every tale I share, for they are more than lessons—they are fragments of your essence."
I smiled, my gaze resting on the plants swaying in the sunlight.
—"I love when you speak of the plants. They feel like old companions, don't they?"
—"Indeed. Just as each plant holds its own story, you, my son, bear a singular and priceless narrative."
The party hall glowed, its light flickering as if it danced for me alone. My birthday was no mere date—it was a threshold.
—"Surprise, Elyon! Today, we celebrate not just your birth but the dawn of a journey rich with revelations."
Her voice was a treasure. The teacher beside her lifted her glass.
—"Congratulations, young prodigy. May your triumphs stretch as far as your aspirations."
Warmth crept to my cheeks.
—"Thank you, teacher. Mother, this day tastes extraordinary…"
—"Never forget: psychology, philosophy, politics—each teaching carries worth. Hold them close to your heart."
I nodded solemnly.
—"I promise, Mother. Your every word will remain with me, a cherished hoard."
Her gaze sharpened, steady and firm.
—"And know this: you are now the man of this house. You must learn to protect yourself."
—"Teach me, Mother, how to forge knowledge into strength to confront the world."
In the gym, my footsteps reverberated, sweat pooling on the floor. It was a quiet battle against myself.
—"Go, Elyon! Every stride fortifies you, every bead of sweat sculpts you."
Her voice propelled me onward.
—"I'm weary, Mother… Will I ever grasp that strength?"
—"You are capable of anything, my son. Your frame may be slight, but your mind is boundless, able to conquer galaxies."
Fatigue seared my muscles, yet I gritted my teeth.
—"Then I'll press on, even as exhaustion drags at me."
—"Perseverance is your greatest ally. Stand firm, and soon you'll harvest the rewards of your labor."
Night descended like a heavy curtain. The alley, dim and reeking of refuse and broken vows, offered a swift, piercing farewell.
—"You can do anything, Elyon. Wait for me; I'll return soon to fetch you."
I clutched her arm, my heart constricting.
—"Mother, why now? Why must you go?"
—"Trust me, son. Some paths only unveil themselves in solitude."
Fear clawed up my throat.
—"But I dread being alone…"
—"Solitude, though bitter, will teach you to shield yourself from peril and uncover the resilience within."
I swallowed hard, the chill already gnawing at my bones.
—"Even through hunger and cold, I'll wait. I swear to bear your every lesson."
—"Always recall: every wound is a teaching, and you were forged to rise, transforming pain into might."
Her voice resonates within me still; each piece of counsel a cornerstone in the edifice of who I am.
Crooked streets, thick with shadows, consumed me thereafter. A beggar emerged, his sunken eyes still flickering with life.
—"Boy, what drew you into this brutal world?"
My reply rasped, barely a murmur.
—"Life taught me to mold pain into strength and fear into understanding."
He appraised me, peering beyond the surface.
—"I see in your eyes the imprint of one who has known love's embrace."
—"I was raised in a sanctuary of affection, but the world beyond is a gauntlet that tests the spirit."
—"Then fight. Wield what you've learned, and let no hardship break you."
I nodded, each word settling heavily upon me.
—"I'll endure, for every exchange, every lesson, fortifies me."
Her voice returned, a whisper woven into the wind.
—"Never forget what you've been taught, my son. You are limitless."
—"Even when the dark feels eternal, your voice will be the beacon that guides me."
I lingered there, cold stones beneath my feet, the frost biting into my flesh. The alley devoured all—light, sound, hope.
—"I waited," I murmured, my voice lost to the silence.
A shadow called from a distance:
—"Are you still there, waiting?"
—Yes, I will wait…
The wind keened low, carrying hoarse barks and stray footsteps. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, thirst parched my lips. Each moment bore down, an eternity etched into my skin.
Hunger strikes first, then thirst… and the cold? That is unrelenting.
The alley swallowed the light, a dank gloom thick with the stench of mold, rust, and the metallic tang of dried blood. A splinter of glass quivered under the faint moonlight, reflecting a face I scarcely knew. My fingers grazed the frigid wall, its roughness akin to the hide of a world that spurned me.
—"I kept waiting," I whispered, my hoarse voice reverberating like a mantra snared in the void.
The shadow stretched, viscous, caressing the stones. My eyes traced its form as it unraveled, a silhouette without a master.
—'I learned that survival is distilling pain into silence.'
A sharp gust bore the sound of dragging steps. A figure emerged from the dark, hunched beneath a ragged coat.
—"You know, the other beggars act like beasts," he said, his voice scraped raw like decayed timber.
—"Survival isn't a choice; it's a demand," I answered, my stare fixed on the fissured ground.
Hunger tore at my gut, the cold sank into my marrow. Each tremor carved me anew, a husk no longer aglow like the boy I'd been.
The night thickened, ushering in the inevitable. A shape loomed near, his breath rank with liquor and spite.
—"Pretty little thing, aren't you?" he jeered, coarse hands seizing my collar.
—"Think you know me?" I shot back, my fingers curling around a shattered bottle.
The glass snapped with a brittle crack. I plunged the shard into his throat, and the stifled groan that followed etched itself into my memory. Warm blood seeped between my fingers, yet I understood: this was no end—it was a beginning.
Another lurked in the gloom, his eyes glinting like a starved wolf's.
—"Is it courage or madness in you?" he probed, his tone hushed, daring me.
—"I don't need words to prove my mettle," I replied, and the silence that ensued cut deeper than any edge.
They claimed me after that. Shaped me like damp clay, crafting me into something functional—a mule for their burdens and whispers. I learned to glide through the margins, a wraith unnoticed. The world bared its fangs, and I met it with hollow eyes.
Yet she… she had vowed to return. That promise was a flame I tended, even as the icy wind sought to snuff it out.
—"She never came back," I murmured, my voice quaking between anguish and emptiness.
—'Her love unraveled into shadows…'
In a forsaken corner of the alley, beside a dumpster, a strikingly beautiful woman with raven-black hair leaned against the wall. Blood seeped through her dark dress, noticeable even in the faint light, and she appeared fragile. The dim glow scarcely brushed her face, yet her eyes shone, unyielding as stone.
—"Get lost," she commanded, her voice raw and slicing through the air.
I stood still. Then, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed—boots striking the concrete with purpose. Armed men emerged, their weapons catching the moonlight.
—"Have you seen a woman in black around here? Tall, black hair, very pretty?" one of them demanded, his tone sharp as a blade.
—"She went that way… looked drunk," I replied, pointing as my gaze fell to the ground.
They pursued the direction I indicated without a flicker of doubt or hesitation. After all, in their eyes, a child like me could hardly deceive them—least of all when they bristled with weapons.
—"Wait," another barked, raising his gun toward me. He pulled the trigger.
A click shattered the silence.
Pain erupted in my chest, a wildfire spreading swiftly. The concrete cradled me as the world tilted.
—"Stupid kid," I heard, a faint murmur before darkness consumed me.
I awoke with the taste of smoke and iron on my tongue. The air hung thick with death. She stood there, her black hair cascading like a veil over her shoulders.
—"If you think you owe me anything, you don't," I said, my voice scraping through gritted teeth.
—"What's your name?" she asked, her tone devoid of warmth or interest.
'I no longer knew who I was…'
—"Nael, Nael Supremium," I answered, clinging to the words as if they might steady me.
She tilted her head, her icy gaze piercing mine.
—"Nael, do you want to live?"
A chill seized my chest, sharper than the air.
—"Yes," I affirmed, the word solid as a vow.
—"Then learn to survive," she decreed, her hand grazing the precise spot where the bullet had carved its mark.
—"Weakness kills. Emotions cloud judgment. Your life—and even your death—now belong to me."
—"And if I refuse?"
—"There is no refusal," she said, a shadow of a smile curling her lips.
Silence descended, heavy as stone.
—"When do we start?"
—"Now," she replied.
—"What should I call you?"
—"Queen," she declared, the word cold as steel.
Training began amidst the ruins. The chill gnawed at my skin, and mud, crusted with dried blood, clung to my boots. She strode ahead, her stance resolute.
—"If you die, it's because you made the wrong choice," she stated, never glancing back.
A blow came fast. I dodged by instinct, steel brushing my skin. The earth quaked beneath me.
—"Again," she commanded after every misstep.
An electric jolt followed, scorching my nerves. Each twitch taught a lesson.
—"When pain strikes, don't resist it. When fear rises, let it forge you," she whispered, as I shed my humanity day by day.
In an abandoned courtyard, she returned, this time with another—a girl with keen eyes, three years my senior.
—"Are you number 0?" the girl asked, her stare defying time itself.
I faltered, breath catching in my throat.
—"More like a 1.5," she quipped, her grin flashing like lightning in a storm.
The Queen's voice sliced through:
—"You're not the same, but you'll learn together."
Training with Nayara was a dance with shadows. She parried my strike, the force reverberating up my arm.
—"Don't you ever laugh?" she teased, her eyes glinting.
—"Smiling is losing control," I shot back, and the silence between us tightened like a noose.
At eleven, the streets claimed me. I mastered invisibility, intimidation with a glance. The Queen awaited me at the threshold of a forgotten building.
—"Today, prove you're a shadow," she ordered, her arched brow speaking volumes.
Nayara gripped my hand, a quiet surge of courage. We set forth.
The first mission reeked of despair. The house was a breathing crypt, anguish resonating within its walls.
—"Make it swift," the Queen murmured.
I advanced, my blade meeting flesh. The sound was muted, final.
—"Don't weep. This is fate," Nayara whispered, her voice quivering with shared dread.
I kept my eyes hollow. Time spared no mercy.
In the second mission, an alley pulsed under neon glow. The corrupt cop crumpled, a bullet marking his end.
—"Now," the Queen commanded.
—"Answers, now," I demanded, each word a descent into shadow.
Rain fell in jagged torrents, piercing the night's stillness. The third mission was a reckoning with my old gang's ghosts. The past doesn't forgive—nor did I. The Queen, her voice keen as a razor, issued the order:
—"Time to purge the rot."
Each familiar face became a mark. Nayara and I wove through them, a lethal ballet without pause or remorse. The air thickened with the stench of fresh blood and bitter metal. Bodies fell, their dull thuds tolling like a dirge in the dark.
We finished. The empty streets engulfed us, silence draping like a shroud. Nayara walked beside me, rain plastering her hair to her face. Her voice slipped out, soft and nearly lost to the wind:
—"Will we ever break free of this?"
I met her gaze, my eyes cold, mirroring the faint gleam of a shattered streetlamp.
—"No," I said, the word dry and cutting as the blade in my grip. She fell silent. She didn't need to say more.
At fifteen, I transcended a mere name. "00," they whispered, a rumor spreading like venom through the streets. Nael was a fading echo, smothered by what I'd become. Nayara moved with me, our shadows blending in the dim alleys.
—"Nael, do you ever wonder why we are this way?" she asked, her eyes probing for something I couldn't offer.
—"No. We follow orders," I replied, my voice steady, fists clenched. Doubt had no place. It couldn't.
Yet, in the deepest nights, I felt it—a fracture in the ice, a formless question. Who was my mother? Why did the name she gave me linger like a trapped echo in my chest?
We dwelled among shadows, bound by muted strikes and shattered oaths. We were kin, not through warmth, but through a brutal code that sustained us.
The wind wailed low, carrying the scent of damp earth. I halted mid-street, hands buried in my pockets, hood cloaking half my face.
—"Why does everything feel so… wrong?" I muttered, the words dissolving into the void.
Nayara turned to me, her eyes alight with something I refused to name—concern, perhaps, or fear.
—"Maybe the past conceals truths even the Queen didn't want us to unearth," she said, her voice trembling on the final note.
I held my tongue. Rain pattered on the asphalt, the sole witness to my unspoken thoughts. 'What if she's right?' I wondered, my pulse quickening. The city danced its rhythm of chaos and quiet, but a question now smoldered in the air:
—"What are we, truly, when the truth emerges?"
That night, alone with my demons, I began tugging at the frayed threads of our tale. Answers? I might never grasp them. But I had to seek them.
October's rain draped the city in a frigid veil. At fifteen, my hands still trembled faintly, blood drying on fresh scars. In a darkened room, my fingers raced across the keyboard. Codes sprang to life on the screen, patterns only I could decipher.
—"Nael, do you really think this suffices?" a voice asked. Mine? I wasn't certain.
—"Enough to vanish into the masses," I replied, eyes locked on the numbers flickering like distant stars.
I once breached NASA's systems—not for glory, but survival. Each bit shaped my world, the "-10" I devised—zeros and ones inverted, a cipher no one else could crack.
—"Reverse binary…" I murmured, the screen mirroring the void in my stare.
Mathematics, physics, the universe's enigmas—I consumed them all. Yet every revelation built another wall around me. I was an island, adrift in my own sea.
In a dank corridor, the Queen's voice struck like a blow.
—"You need to know: Nayara is your sister."
The floor seemed to buckle. My lips parted, but words faltered.
—"My mother…" I started, my voice breaking, swallowed by the gloom.
—"No time for hesitation," she cut in, unrelenting.
Something splintered within me. At seventeen, the burden of commands became a knot I could no longer bear.
—"Zero, you will obey. And if you resist…" The Queen paused, her silence more cutting than any warning.
—"I refuse," I said, low and firm, eyes fixed on hers.
—"You can't walk away," she countered, her tone glacial.
—"Then so be it."
Nayara, the "Princess," was tasked with erasing the threat I'd become. My gaze tracked her as she melted into the shadows.
—"Zero, it's not personal," she murmured, her voice nearly a plea.
Chaos erupted. Footsteps thundered, shots rent the air, the scent of ozone and fear saturated everything.
I stood motionless, rain lashing my face.
—"Perhaps, in the end, the truth is as elusive as '-10'," I whispered, fingers tapping the hilt of my blade. Zero endured. The next move was mine.
In the Fortress of Silence
The phone pierced the sound of rain against shattered windows. An urgent voice hissed:
—"Zero, Nayara's trapped in that mission. She needs you."
My chest constricted.
—"Even if it's the Queen calling?" I asked, doubt creeping into my tone.
—"You know what must be done."
—"I can't forsake her," I said, lacing my boots as my heart raced.
The path to the fortress was a maze of shadows, the world's safest refuge. Each step was measured, each breath a gamble. I arrived, and "-10" flowed through my fingers, infiltrating systems like a silent viper.
—"The data…" I muttered, eyes consuming symbols that pulsed with life.
—"Read, absorb…" Every line etched into my mind was a bloodless wound.
Thirty minutes. Time slipped like sand. Then alarms wailed.
—"Get out now, Zero!" a frigid, mechanical voice demanded.
—"I won't let them halt me," I shot back, plunging into the fray.
Outside, the night was a living inferno. Shouts, gunfire, boots on pavement. I found Nayara, shackled, her eyes hard as granite.
—"Come, hurry!" I ordered, hands shaking as I freed her.
—"Zero, I'm sorry, '00', this isn't personal…" she whispered, her voice laced with something I refused to fathom.
A shot cleaved the air. Pain flared, hot and fierce, and darkness claimed me.
I awoke with iron on my tongue. Before me stood a figure—my mother. The air was dense with stifled love, despair, hope, and ancient resentment—buried emotions resurrected in a heartbeat.
—"…" She spoke no words. Her eyes burrowed deep, stripping fragments of me away. She stood there, yearning for something I no longer possessed. Love, tenderness, and countless emotions shimmered in her gaze, yet they couldn't justify her abandonment.
'What's the cost of redemption when all you've known is shadow-bound survival?' I thought, my heart thudding slow and heavy.
The silence between us was an unending dialogue. Beyond, the rain cleansed the streets, washing away echoes of a life woven from codes and shadows. I was Zero—not the boy she'd forsaken, still breathing. The truth? I was weary of blood and ruin, yet unready to confront it. Deep down, I bore no hatred for my sister's attempt on my life; she acted as she'd been taught, and I couldn't say I'd have chosen differently in her place.