Chapter 1 – A New Beginning

  My name is Esteban, and I don’t know what exactly happened.

  I was a normal person. Functional. Law-abiding. Someone who lived a quiet life. At thirty-four years old, with a degree in computer science, I used to finish my workdays and return to my small apartment, where I spent my time playing video games or watching some series.

  The truth is… no.

  I lied.

  I wasn’t okay.

  I had distanced myself from my friends and my family. I lived in Valdivia, a city in the south of Chile, but I moved to the capital looking for a better job… and also to face a curse that ended up bringing me to the situation I was in.

  What happened?

  When I was thirty-two years old, I was diagnosed with a brain tumor.

  Where?

  In what they called the sella turcica.

  And what was that?

  As they explained it to me, the sella turcica is a structure located in the sphenoid bone, which is part of the cranial cavity. Anatomically, it is on the inner side of the skull and very close to the optic canal, where the nerve responsible for vision passes through.

  To be honest, when they tried to explain it in detail, I barely understood anything.

  The only thing I clearly understood was that they would have to break my nose and insert surgical instruments through it to remove the tumor.

  An extremely expensive operation.

  Dangerous.

  And one that required a long recovery period.

  I worked for two full years without rest to gather the initial money, take out a loan, and finally go through with the surgery. And, as expected…

  They weren’t wrong when they said it was dangerous.

  The last thing I remember is being injected with anesthesia through an IV. I felt that familiar cold sensation slowly running through my arm… and then, everything went dark.

  Everything was dark.

  I couldn’t see anything.

  I couldn’t feel my body.

  Even so, I was conscious.

  In that strange state, suspended in nothingness, I began to perceive distant sounds. At first, they were indistinct moans, and shortly after, crying. The crying of a child. At first it was distant, almost unreal, like a lost echo, but over time it became clearer, more present. It was sharp, desperate, full of anguish.

  It sounded like the cry of a little girl.

  Little by little, a light began to appear in the middle of the darkness. It wasn’t intense, but weak and blurry, as if someone had lit a candle very far away. That light barely gave me any reference, but it was enough for me to understand that I could see… at least a little.

  Then I saw her.

  In the distance, there was a small girl.

  Her clothes were torn and destroyed, as if she had been through something terrible. She was crying blood. Her cheeks were stained, her eyes red and swollen, and her expression showed a pain so deep that it sent a chill through my body.

  This made no sense.

  None of this did.

  I tried to speak. I wanted to scream, to ask what was happening, to say anything… but I couldn’t feel any part of my body. I had no voice. No control. I could only watch.

  Suddenly, the girl stopped moving completely.

  She slowly lifted her head and fixed her eyes directly on me.

  Her gaze pierced through me, as if she could see me beyond that darkness.

  And with a barely audible voice, full of guilt and unbearable sadness, she said:

  “I’m sorry…”

  At that moment, everything started to blur.

  I felt something slowly returning to me, as if my consciousness was being forcefully pushed back into a body that did not respond. My breathing became heavy, irregular, suffocating. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like something was compressing my chest from the inside, preventing me from taking air.

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  Then the spasms started.

  They were repeated and violent, accompanied by a desperation I didn’t know how to control. I needed air. I needed it urgently. Panic completely took over, clouding any coherent thought.

  Without realizing it, I started to cry.

  The more I cried, the more I felt something clearing in my throat, as if there had been an obstruction that was finally beginning to give way. Little by little, my sense of hearing started to return.

  I heard shouting.

  Voices from several people speaking at the same time.

  Constant, chaotic movement, as if many bodies were rushing back and forth in a hurry.

  Then, touch returned.

  I felt pressure around my body, firm but strangely comforting. Something was holding me carefully, wrapping around me completely. It was warm, stable, safe.

  For a moment, I thought it was ropes or some kind of restraint.

  But it wasn’t.

  They were soft supports, comfortable, perfectly adapted to my body.

  Almost like arms.

  That made no sense.

  None of this did.

  How could arms hold me like that?

  Then it happened.

  Those arms passed me into other arms. The movement was slow and careful, as if the person holding me was afraid of hurting me. Little by little, my vision began to clear. I was no longer in a state of absolute desperation where I cried without control.

  It was then, between the confusion and the noise, that the first person appeared clearly in front of me.

  She had copper-colored hair, bright, as if each strand reflected the light of dawn. Her eyes were large, a deep pink color, and they looked at me with a mix of deep exhaustion and a tenderness I had never felt before.

  Her face was pale and covered in sweat, but even so, she gave off a warmth that was hard to describe.

  With a soft voice, full of affection, she said:

  “Welcome… my little one.”

  Beside her, another woman spoke with clear excitement, unable to hide her emotion:

  “My lady Caria! It’s a boy! A strong and healthy male! And he’s beautiful too, with his father’s eyes and hair!”

  In that moment, everything became clear.

  I couldn’t move my head; it was too heavy. My body didn’t respond the way it should. Just by noticing how large the woman holding me was, I understood the truth without needing any more explanations.

  I had been reborn.

  Now calmer, trying to adapt to this new environment, all I could do was listen to the people around me. I couldn’t turn my head or move freely, so my senses focused on the voices surrounding me.

  I then heard the woman I now knew was my mother, speaking to the woman who had held me first.

  “My whole body hurts,” Caria said with a tired voice, “but seeing that he is calm now and adapting to this new world fills me with happiness… my small and beloved baby. I can’t wait to see the expression on your father’s face when he sees you, and how happy he will be when he knows you are a strong boy.”

  She paused briefly before continuing, breathing with difficulty.

  “Tana, please, could you clean the baby and place him in his basket? When everything is ready, inform Lord Laret that his firstborn is waiting for him.”

  “At once, my lady,” Tana replied with clear enthusiasm. “I will take care of his first bath and watch over him closely.”

  “Be careful,” Caria added, and from her tone it was clear she was smiling. “I will be the first to cover him with kisses.”

  “As you wish, my lady,” Tana replied, amused.

  After that, I was taken into someone’s arms again and carried to another place.

  Her arms were firm but gentle. She lifted me with a care that contrasted with the confusion still lingering in my mind, and for the first time, I could see something more than my mother’s face.

  In front of me was a young woman with dark hair, tied up under a white cap. Her smile was calm and serene, as if there was no rush or chaos in the world. She radiated a genuine calm, almost comforting.

  She wore light-colored clothes combined with darker tones, a strong contrast that made her sky-blue eyes stand out even more. There was no intense maternal tenderness in her gaze, but rather the serenity of someone used to caring for others, to holding fragile lives without breaking.

  After cleaning and drying me with great care, they placed me in a basket covered with soft, padded white fabrics. Everything felt warm, comfortable, safe. The sides of the basket were high, so my world was reduced to that small space.

  A few minutes passed.

  I didn’t know how many.

  Time felt strange, distorted.

  Then another woman entered the room and spoke with a respectful voice:

  “Lord Laret has already been informed and is on his way.”

  “Thank you for informing him,” Caria replied, her tone tired but sincere.

  “And he’s coming fast,” Tana added with a small laugh. “I can see him through the window. He’s running straight here.”

  The door opened suddenly.

  “Caria! Are you okay?” the voice echoed strongly, filled with fear and relief.

  The woman lying in the bed gave him a tired smile before answering calmly:

  “My body hurts and I’m very tired, so I would appreciate it if you spoke more quietly. You might wake our son.”

  The man stopped immediately.

  His heavy breathing made it clear he had been running without stopping. He took one step forward, and when his eyes landed on the small basket next to the bed, his expression completely changed.

  The warrior.

  The noble.

  The man with the firm face… disappeared.

  For the first time, I clearly saw the one who would be my father.

  His silver hair shone under the dim candlelight. His eyes, a light blue almost transparent, trembled slightly as he leaned toward me, as if he feared that even his presence might be too much.

  “So… this is my son,” he whispered, more to himself than to the others.

  He extended his hand with extreme care, almost afraid of breaking something, and gently touched my cheek with the tips of his fingers.

  He smiled.

  It was not the smile of a man hardened by life, nor that of a warrior used to battle.

  It was the smile of a father who had just found his reason to keep fighting.

  first chapter of my story.

  The original version is currently being published in Spanish, and as of today (February 2nd, 2026), it has reached Chapter 41.

  at least one per week, and sometimes more if possible.

  The goal is to eventually catch up with the main work, although the process takes time, as each chapter must first be adapted into neutral Spanish and then translated into English. This helps ensure a smoother and more enjoyable reading experience, especially since the humor I use has certain nuances. However, this does not affect the story or its content.

  I am open to any kind of feedback, whether positive or negative. This is my first work, and I am very enthusiastic about creating it. Any criticism will help me gain experience and continue improving.