Capítulo 22: chp
As they stepped outside the palace into a sprawling clearing, the trio was greeted by the sounds of clashing weapons and the cheers of an audience. The clearing was a grand training ground, encircled by a low wall of ancient stone. Knights in ornate yet functional armor were sparring, their movements precise and fluid. The air was thick with the energy of combat, and the faint glow of magical enhancements shimmered around the fighters.
Dumbledore, Minerva, and Hecate's great-grandmother stood at a vantage point overlooking the scene. Below them, two combatants prepared for a duel in the center of the arena.
One was a towering knight wielding an enormous war hammer, his presence as commanding as the weapon he carried. His armor bore the emblem of a jagged mountain, its crest unmistakably signifying his lineage.
"That one," the great-grandmother began, her voice carrying a note of interest, "is from the Boulder noble family. Once earls, they've fallen to the rank of viscounts after a series of untalented heirs squandered their potential. But this one seems... promising."
The other combatant was a lithe figure, wielding a short sword with an elegance that spoke of years of rigorous training. His armor bore a crest shaped like a streak of lightning.
"And that one," she continued, "belongs to the Zephyr family. Known for their unparalleled speed and agility. They've been rising steadily and might soon achieve the rank of earls if they keep producing fighters like this."
---
The arena fell silent as the duel began.
The Boulder knight took the first move, hoisting his hammer high above his head with a grunt of effort. As he slammed it into the ground, the earth beneath his feet responded as if alive, a massive boulder erupting from the ground and hurtling toward the Zephyr knight.
The force of the attack was awe-inspiring, the sheer weight and momentum of the boulder creating a small shockwave that rippled through the ground. Dust and debris filled the air, momentarily obscuring the combatants.
The Zephyr knight, however, was ready. With a burst of speed that left a faint afterimage, he dodged the boulder, his movements so swift they seemed almost ethereal. He darted to the side, closing the distance between himself and his opponent in a blur.
"Impressive," Minerva murmured, her eyes fixed on the fight.
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, his tone thoughtful. "The coordination between their magical abilities and physical prowess is remarkable."
---
The Boulder knight, undeterred, swung his hammer in a wide arc, forcing his opponent to retreat momentarily. The ground trembled with each swing, the vibrations threatening to disrupt the Zephyr knight's balance.
But the Zephyr knight was relentless. Using his superior speed, he maneuvered around his opponent, aiming for weak points in the massive armor. His blade flickered like lightning, striking joints and seams with precision.
The Boulder knight attempted to counter, raising his hammer for another earth-shaking attack. But as he brought it down, the Zephyr knight anticipated the move, sidestepping effortlessly and using the momentum of the swing against him.
With a decisive strike, the Zephyr knight lunged forward, his blade finding a gap in the armor at the Boulder knight's side. The larger knight staggered, his hammer slipping from his grasp as he fell to one knee.
The match was over. The audience erupted into cheers and applause as the Zephyr knight stepped back, offering his opponent a respectful nod.
---
"Interesting," the great-grandmother remarked, a hint of approval in her tone. "The Zephyr family is proving to be quite the contender. With talent like this, they might very well ascend to the rank of earls."
Dumbledore stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Their ability to channel their magical affinity into combat is extraordinary. It's a level of mastery I've rarely seen."
Minerva, still watching the combatants as they exited the arena, added, "The discipline and training required must be immense. It's a testament to their lineage."
The great-grandmother smiled, her eyes glinting with pride. "Indeed. Our families have honed their abilities for generations, each specializing in a unique form of magic. It's what makes us strong. What makes us... enduring."
Her gaze lingered on the arena, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Perhaps, one day, you'll see what the Targaryens are truly capable of."
The group stood in the warm sunlight, the cheers from the training ground fading into the background. The Zephyr knight had just claimed his victory, his comrades gathering around to celebrate. As the conversation turned serious, Dumbledore broke the contemplative silence, his eyes glinting with curiosity.
"If this is how your people use magic," he began, "why was Hecate Targaryen in the outside world? Assuming she has similar powers. I suspect this is why you brought us here—to show us these displays." His words carried a hint of challenge, though his tone remained polite.
The great-grandmother chuckled, her eyes sharp and knowing. "Hoho, smart boy, aren't you? Yes, there's a reason. Do you recall our conversation in the waiting room, where I mentioned we do not allow outsiders into our kingdom under any circumstances?"
"Yes," Dumbledore replied simply, his gaze unwavering.
"Well," she continued, her voice tinged with an air of mystery, "there is a very specific reason for that. Our bodies, over generations, have diverged from what you know as wizards. Some of us refer to ourselves as the High Ones or High Humans, to distinguish our evolution from yours."
---
"High Humans?" Minerva asked, frowning. "What does that mean, exactly?"
"It's not a baseless claim," the great-grandmother explained. "We live far longer than even the most gifted wizards. Our magic operates on different principles—deeper, purer. But this difference comes at a cost. If our magic were to clash with your system, it would result in catastrophic consequences. But!" She raised a finger, forestalling further questions. "There's more to this story."
Her tone softened slightly, as if recalling a distant memory. "Many years ago, a Targaryen princess was wandering the royal gardens—you must have seen them as you came here, yes? Beautiful, alive, and always protective of our kind."
Dumbledore and Minerva nodded.
"This princess," she continued, "was startled one day to find a wizard in the forest. He had somehow breached the magical barriers and was trapped in the mud, the forest rejecting his presence. Despite her instincts to avoid outsiders, her heart won over caution, and she helped him escape the clutches of the land."
"How kind," Minerva remarked, though her tone carried more intrigue than surprise.
---
The great-grandmother gave a small, wistful smile. "Yes, kind indeed. But kindness has its consequences. The wizard, captivated by her beauty and grace, was determined to repay her. Though she insisted there was no need, he found ways to return to the forest, time and time again. He was extraordinarily skilled in space magic, able to bypass our defenses like no other."
"Persistent," Dumbledore murmured, stroking his beard.
"Persistent, and talented," she agreed. "Over time, their meetings became a regular occurrence, and the princess's resolve weakened. She began to harbor feelings for the man, and against all rules, she allowed herself to love him."
Minerva's expression softened, though she remained silent, her hands folded neatly before her.
"Of course, for a wizard, it's not difficult to conceal one's identity. A simple spell, maintained diligently, was enough to hide his origins. Their union was a secret kept even from our noble families, known only to the royal house."
---
"Was their child Hecate's ancestor?" Dumbledore inquired.
The great-grandmother nodded solemnly. "Yes. The first generation of these unions bore children who were not much different from ordinary High Humans. But as generations passed, anomalies began to appear. Some offspring were born without any abilities at all, while others... others paid a heavy price for their heritage. Some died young, unable to handle the rampant magic within their bodies. And others—"
She paused, her voice catching slightly. "Others were cursed with a blend of magic so volatile it threatened their very existence. Hecate's older brother was one such child. He was kind, gentle... but his magic was too strong. Too wild. It consumed him before he could grow into his power."
A heavy silence fell over the group, broken only by the distant sounds of sparring knights.
---
"And Hecate?" Dumbledore pressed, his voice soft but insistent.
"Hecate," the great-grandmother said, her expression darkening, "is also burdened by this legacy. The noble families—ever watchful of perceived weakness in the royal bloodline—saw her as a target. There were countless attempts on her life from the moment she was born. The court whispered rumors of decline, of curses, of doom for the Targaryen line. We knew we had to act."
Her gaze shifted to the palace in the distance. "We decided to try something different. We sent her away, far from this kingdom, to the world that wizard had come from. If she grew up in a different environment, surrounded by different magic, perhaps she could learn to control her abilities. Perhaps she could avoid her brother's fate."
---
"And that's how she ended up with the Evans family," Minerva concluded, piecing the story together.
"Precisely," the great-grandmother confirmed. "We placed her in their care and ensured they perceived her as their own. Of course, we summoned her back periodically to remind her of her true heritage. A little magical tweaking ensured the Evans family would never question her presence."
Minerva looked troubled. "To send a child away like that... it must have been a difficult decision."
"It was," the great-grandmother admitted. "But it was necessary. And so far, it seems to be working. She's alive, strong, and perhaps even thriving. But we still keep a watchful eye."
Dumbledore nodded, understanding dawning in his eyes. "You've gone to great lengths to protect her. And now, you've brought her back to prepare her for what lies ahead."
"Exactly," the great-grandmother said, her voice firm. "Hecate must come into her own, not just as a Targaryen, but as a bridge between two worlds. That is her destiny."
------
As they walked through the grand halls, the air around them felt heavy with the weight of history, yet there was a certain tranquility. Minerva was fascinated, her eyes darting from one object to another, each new piece of art or magical artifact piquing her curiosity. Dumbledore, on the other hand, remained deep in thought, his mind circling back to the cryptic words the great-grandmother had spoken earlier. The name wild boy echoed in his head—why had she chosen to call him that? There had to be a deeper connection, some reason tied to the past, yet even his sharp mind couldn't quite place it.
Minerva, ever observant, noticed his pensive mood and was about to ask when the great-grandmother, Cercy, interrupted, her cheerful tone breaking the silence.
"Hooooo! Let me show you something interesting," she announced, waving her hand as if the invitation were an open secret. Her eyes twinkled with excitement as she beckoned them to follow her.
Minerva gave Dumbledore a sideways glance, and with a small nod, they continued on, moving through the palace corridors. The grandeur of the building was unlike anything they had encountered before—high ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes, walls lined with tapestries depicting various feats of magic and history, and windows that offered glimpses into expansive gardens where the flora seemed to thrive in ways beyond ordinary magic.
As they walked, Minerva couldn't help but ask, "If I may ask, if you're the great-grandmother of Miss Targaryen, then where's her grandma and grandpa?"
"Oh!" Cercy exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "Those two are off on an adventure. They're out traveling, experiencing new things. They're quite the wanderers, always seeking something more. If they knew you two were coming here, they'd probably die from envy, hoho! But that's just how they are," she said, shrugging it off.
She paused, as if a thought had just crossed her mind. "Oh! Come to think of it, I didn't even introduce myself properly, hoho! I'm Cercy from the Lucentis household." She said it with a flourish, as if expecting it to carry some weight of significance, yet her demeanor remained light and unassuming.
"Ah, I see," Dumbledore responded, finally pulling himself away from his swirling thoughts. Minerva simply nodded, her curiosity piqued by the mention of Cercy's house and the implied lineage tied to vision. She had not yet heard of such a family before.
As the trio made their way through the palace, the further they walked, the more unusual and magical the surroundings became. There were objects hanging in mid-air, suspended by spells so delicate they seemed almost invisible. Rugs that moved by themselves, sweeping across the floors, dusting off corners. Strange creatures wandered the hallways—some looked like hybrids of magical beasts and creatures from Muggle folklore, others were ethereal and barely visible, like wisps of smoke with glowing eyes.
Minerva, who had spent decades in the magical world, couldn't help but ask about several items she didn't recognize. But as she did, Cercy's attention never wavered, answering her questions with an air of casual knowledge as though these objects were nothing extraordinary.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore was quiet. His thoughts kept returning to the question about the "wild boy." His mind, sharp as ever, couldn't shake the feeling that there was something significant behind the name.
Then, before he could press for answers, Cercy stopped abruptly, raising her hand in a grand gesture. "We're here~!" she said, her voice filled with excitement.
They stepped through a doorway, and Dumbledore's eyes immediately widened, his words dying on his tongue. They had reached the rooftop of the palace.
From this vantage point, the entire kingdom sprawled beneath them. But unlike the simple stone streets of typical wizarding worlds, this kingdom looked like something out of a fantastical dream—or rather, a perfect fusion of magic and science.
The skyline was dotted with towering skyscrapers, their glass windows glinting in the sunlight, yet their design was clearly magical—floating in mid-air or twisting in impossible shapes. These structures hummed with a quiet energy, as though the buildings themselves were alive. Forests and greenery interspersed with the towering buildings, as though nature and technology had melded seamlessly together. Streets lined with people wearing modern clothes, but with the unmistakable grace of magical folk, bustled with activity—some were on their way to work, while others, laughing, strolled towards what appeared to be a grand cinema.
And the advertisements—large, luminous panels—hovered in the air, displaying magical and mundane messages alike. There were animated images that seemed to shift as you looked at them, showcasing magical goods, enchanted objects, and even advertisements for dragon tours.
But the most astonishing part was the dragons. Dumbledore and Minerva both looked up in awe. Some were resting on the rooftops, their massive bodies coiled lazily, while others soared gracefully through the sky. The dragons, despite their massive size, appeared at peace, interacting with the world around them without causing harm or panic. It was as though they were a natural part of this strange kingdom, coexisting with the people, who didn't seem fazed by their presence at all.
Minerva's mouth hung open in astonishment, her gaze darting between the bustling streets, the floating buildings, and the dragons flying overhead. "What's happening right now?" she murmured, utterly captivated. "How beautiful."
Dumbledore, who had long been a man of great experience and wisdom, found himself momentarily speechless. His mind whirled, trying to process the scene unfolding before him. He had traveled to many places, seen many strange and wondrous things, but this... this was unlike anything he had ever imagined. "Is this world really possible?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The great-grandmother, Cercy, beamed proudly. "Oh, this place is very real, Dumbledore. Welcome to our world—where magic and science dance together in harmony. A world built on the foundation of ages-old magic, but shaped by progress and invention. A world where dragons soar through the skies and the impossible becomes everyday reality. "
For a long moment, no one spoke. They stood in silence, absorbing the view, feeling as if they were standing on the precipice of something grand and beyond their comprehension. It was a beautiful chaos—a perfect blend of magic, science, and time itself.
Finally, Dumbledore turned his gaze to Cercy, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "And Hecate, she is destined for this world, isn't she?"
Cercy's smile grew wider. "Ah, yes. Hecate is the bridge between two worlds—the past and the future. And it is here that she will choose her path. We shall see what destiny has in store for her."
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