Tower of Paradise

I saw her clench her fists as a storm of doubts clouded her gaze. Her entire body radiated the tension of someone facing an impossible crossroads.

I could almost hear her desperate thoughts: What should I do? No, rather… What could she do?

—Mom, don’t do it! —Zephyr’s cry thundered through the sepulchral silence. His eyes shone like tear-soaked pearls as tears streamed down his flushed cheeks. He struggled with renewed vigor to break free from my grip—. I beg you, don’t do it!

His pleas pierced my heart like poisoned daggers. A cage of thorns seemed to tighten around my chest with each of his words.

—I’ll do anything you ask, but don’t do it! I’ll behave! I promise, but please don’t do it!

Before Zephyr could continue his pleas, I tightened my grip around his neck and, with a calculated motion, grazed the sharp edge of my dagger against his delicate cheek. The skin gave way like butter under the blade, opening a fresh wound from which a trickle of scarlet blood flowed. The desperation in his voice tore at my soul; I clenched my jaw so tightly I feared I’d break my own teeth as regret flooded me like a devastating tsunami.

—Alright! Alright! Stop it! —Panic twisted Alma’s voice into an animalistic cry. She raised her hands in a gesture of absolute surrender, pleading with me to end the boy’s torment.

An expression of total defeat overtook her face. She exhaled a sigh heavy with resignation, like someone finally accepting an inevitable fate after a long struggle.

—I’ll do it —she murmured with a broken voice—. But promise me one thing: don’t hurt Zephyr… Please.

Her face reflected a sadness so profound it reminded me of the minor chord of a broken symphony, the melancholy known only to those who had loved deeply and were about to lose everything.

—No! Mom, please! No! —Zephyr’s heart-wrenching cries echoed off the walls, amplifying his desperation.

I forced myself to ignore his pleas, building a mental wall to let them fall on deaf ears. I looked at Alma and could read in her eyes that, in the end, when her time came, she carried only one regret: not being able to spend more time with Zephyr. She wouldn’t see the one she considered her son grow up, wouldn’t share his life. But she seemed to find solace in knowing that at least he would survive.

Thus, as Zephyr’s cries of helplessness resounded like a macabre requiem, Alma fixed me with a steady gaze and issued her final demand:

—Promise me you won’t take his life. He’s just an innocent child. Please… don’t take it from him.

I looked at the small boy I held in my arms as my heart constricted with remorse. I didn’t want this either: taking a child hostage and demanding something so heinous. I despised myself for becoming the monster I fought.

—I promise —I nodded solemnly—. No matter what happens, I won’t kill him.

Letting out a final sigh of defeat, Alma walked with heavy steps toward the multiple ice spears embedded in the ground, remnants of Alice’s last desperate attack during their battle.

She picked up the longest one and turned to face me. With a final look laden with contempt, she placed the sharp tip of the spear against her own heart. Her breathing grew ragged as she tightened her grip on the makeshift weapon.

—No! Please! Mom, please… I beg you, don’t do this! —Zephyr continued pleading, imploring Alma to stop, but she seemed to have set aside everything except her final mission.

—Zephyr, my precious boy —she looked directly into his eyes and spoke with a voice so sweet and warm that Zephyr’s body visibly shuddered—. You once asked me why I chose to save you. The truth is, it was to satisfy my greed. I wanted you to be my son, even if just for a little while. Thank you for everything… I’m happy, so happy to have met you… I love you.

In her final moment, Alma’s face bloomed into a smile of such beauty that I swore I glimpsed the reflection of spring light on the most perfect petal.

She tightened her grip around the ice spear and… pressed the sharp tip against her chest. With a final breath, she closed her eyes and channeled all the strength she had left to drive the weapon through her flesh, impaling her own heart. A faint gasp escaped her lips as she used her last vestiges of life to sink the spear even deeper.

The scream that erupted from Zephyr’s throat was so tragic that it sent chills down my spine. A wail torn from the depths of his being, as if the entire world were crumbling before his eyes. The light in Alma’s gaze extinguished like a candle in a gale, and her body went limp, collapsing to the ground with a dull thud that resonated tragically.

I stood motionless, still holding Zephyr, as I waged an internal war against my own thoughts. I tried to convince myself I had done the right thing, that I had no choice. I told myself I wasn’t a killer, that circumstances had forced me. That anyone in my position would have done the same. That I had done it for the greater good… That my hands weren’t stained with another’s blood.

But lies, even those we tell ourselves, were as numerous as the ceaseless tears streaming down my face, the ones that clouded our minds and now blurred my vision. I wiped my tears with my hands as if I could scrub away the sins clinging to them. Zephyr seized the moment to run to the fallen body of the one who had been his mother.

And I… simply stood there, watching as the boy sobbed inconsolably over Alma’s corpse. His devastated cries revealed the depth of the bond that had united them, a bond my hand had abruptly severed.

The weight of what I had just done crashed over me like a mountain. I had caused the death of someone who only wanted to protect a child, just as I wanted to protect my people. What really separated us? Weren’t we both creatures trying to survive in a hostile world?

As I gazed at the scene, I felt a crack open in my soul, a fissure through which a crushing certainty seeped: I had crossed a threshold I could never undo. In that moment, I understood the cruelest lesson of all: to protect what I loved, I had transformed into the very thing I most despised.

I had discovered that heroes were nothing but fantasy tales; that all men, deep down, carried their own shadow of evil to a greater or lesser degree. The boundary between good and evil, so fragile and elusive, had blurred before my eyes. But above all, I had learned an unyielding truth: those who clung to an unyielding morality, unable to adapt, ended up buried by their own righteousness.