They all left the room with the promise to revisit, at a later time, the matter of Lila’s future pregnancy.

  “Thank you for coming,” said Vanesa.

  “Thank you for taking the trouble to receive us,” Candado replied, removing his beret with a polite gesture.

  Vanesa smiled and gave him a light pat on the head.

  “You haven’t changed one bit,” she said fondly.

  Candado frowned, slightly confused.

  “See you, guys.”

  “Goodbye, Miss Vanesa,” the group said in unison.

  The iron gate slowly closed behind them as they walked down the path leading to the front entrance.

  “3:31 PM... what an exhausting afternoon,” Héctor complained, checking his phone.

  Candado stopped abruptly.

  “Guys, I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “What? Why?” Héctor asked, puzzled.

  “Since I’m already here, there’s someone I need to talk to, my friend,” Candado said, giving him a pat on the shoulder.

  “I see. Then we’ll see you later.”

  “Can I come with you?” Hammya asked, curious.

  “You can do whatever you want, but I wouldn’t recommend it. It’ll be long and boring.”

  Hammya smiled mischievously.

  “You may be many things, but boring is not one of them.”

  Candado raised an eyebrow.

  “Go with Mauricio and tell my parents I’ll see them a bit later.”

  “How much later?” Héctor asked.

  “An hour or two, no more.”

  “Alright.”

  He then turned to Hammya.

  “Let’s go.”

  The group departed, disappearing into the trees that bordered the forest. Candado turned in the opposite direction and began walking down the dirt road, with Hammya following close behind.

  “Candado, where are we going?” she asked.

  “I’m going to visit someone deprived of their freedom.”

  “Oh... are they sick?”

  “No.”

  “Paralyzed?”

  “Also no.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “They’re a prisoner.”

  “Oh, a prisoner... A PRISONER?!”

  “That’s right.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous? I get it now—it’s a relative.”

  “No.”

  “A friend?”

  “Not in this lifetime.”

  “A client, then?”

  “I don’t offer my guild services to inmates.”

  “Then...?”

  “He’s a stranger to me—or rather, someone known to my family.”

  “Oh...”

  Candado spotted a carriage approaching.

  “Transportation,” he announced, extending his hand.

  The carriage stopped in front of them. Candado stepped toward the coachman.

  “Please take us to the port.”

  “Understood.”

  “Hop in, Hammya.”

  “What? I don’t have any money.”

  “There’s no money in Kanghar,” he said as he opened the door for her.

  Hammya hesitated for a moment, but eventually got in. Candado followed and closed the door behind them. He tapped the small grate separating them from the driver, and at once, the carriage began to move.

  “Wow, it’s my first time riding in a carriage.”

  “There are no cars on this island. This is the standard method of travel across the entire country.”

  “And what if you want to go from one city to another?”

  “Then you take a train.”

  Hammya pressed herself to the window, gazing out with fascination.

  “A nation of children… I never thought that could actually be real. What happens when they grow up?”

  “Nothing. Why would anything happen?”

  “No, I mean… has there ever been an adult president?”

  “Oh, that. No, of course not. In Kanghar, you can only hold public office if you’re under twenty. The constitution even allows that, if you turn twenty on the same day you assume the position, you may finish your term. But that’s happened only a few times.”

  “So you…”

  “Yes. Once I turn twenty, I’ll no longer be a candado.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Because children are different from adults. They’re pure, innocent, and in most cases, they truly want what’s best for others. That goodness is what allowed Kanghar to become a utopia.”

  “Are you pure and innocent?”

  Candado smiled.

  “We’re the exception—not just me, but the other Candados as well. Maybe they haven’t seen the world through my eyes, but they’re aware enough to lead.”

  “Have adults ever tried to… you know?” Hammya asked, leaving the sentence unfinished.

  “A coup? Yes, there have been attempts,” Candado replied without looking at her. “But the institutions of Kanghar teach children that they have more strength and power than adults, and that they’re untouchable under the nation’s laws.”

  “And what happened to those people?”

  “Depending on how severe the case was—they were exiled, imprisoned… or sent to the Caves.”

  “The Caves?”

  “You’re better off never knowing. It’s for your own good.”

  “…Alright,” she murmured.

  “Children are children,” he went on, his tone calm. “Sometimes they’re naive, make poor decisions. That’s why Candados exist—us—those who must grow up faster to guide our future replacements.”

  “Was your whole family made up of Candados?”

  “My great-grandfather, my grandfather, my mother… and my sister. All of them served as Candados of Kanghar.”

  Hammya looked at him with a spark of curiosity. She had always wondered.

  “So why are you named Candado?”

  He smiled. He always enjoyed telling that story.

  “My great-grandmother, Rosa Velázquez, loved my great-grandfather very much. So much so that, on his birthday, she gave him a small padlock adorned with precious stones. It was just an accessory, nothing more. She gave it to Jack—that was his name—and he accepted it. That same day, they shared their first kiss. My mother loved that story since she was a little girl. So much, in fact, that she decided to name me after that gift. Of course, people made fun of me at first, but I never cared. I love my name. And I still do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because with it, I have something very few people possess—at least from my perspective.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A connection to my family’s past. Knowing that my name was a gift of love, a token from one person in love to another.”

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  “That’s so romantic,” Hammya said, touched.

  “It is.”

  There was a brief silence before she spoke again:

  “And on the other side of things… what does it mean to be a Candado?”

  “It’s simple,” he replied, looking her in the eyes. “Kanghar is a chest. Its citizens are the treasure. And we, the Candados, are the ones who protect it—along with the chains, of course. Those are the other public servants.”

  “So a candado…”

  “Yes. A candado protects a treasure. In our case, the people. There is no greater honor for a Kangharian than to be a candado.”

  “Seems like you really love it.”

  “I love what Harambee and the founding leaders left us. How could I not be proud? After all, it's often adults who say the world can’t change—that it will always be this way.”

  “And what’s the right way to see it…?”

  “The world is the way it is, sure. But it can be better. That’s the goal: to change it. If adults no longer inspire trust, then children will. They’ll achieve what many grown-ups believe is impossible.”

  “Tell me… how does it feel to carry such a heavy burden on your shoulders?”

  “Hammya, it’s neither heavy nor light. Because I don’t see it as a burden. And as for my situation…” he sighed, “I love this homeland. It inspires me to hope that Argentina could one day be as fair as Kanghar.”

  “…Yeah.”

  Time passed slowly. The conversation carried on for a while, but after about ten minutes, Hammya decided to glance out the window. She was left in awe. The city was picturesque, beautiful, almost unreal.

  Candado, on the other hand, leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

  “Candado…” Hammya glanced at him sideways. “Oh, you’re asleep.”

  She leaned in mischievously.

  “If you don’t wake up… I’ll give you a kiss.”

  There was no response.

  “I’m serious… I’ll do it…”

  The carriage came to an abrupt stop.

  Candado opened his eyes just in time to see Hammya turning innocently toward the window.

  “We’ve arrived, sir,” the coachman announced.

  “Understood.”

  Candado sat up. He felt a slight sting on his lips. He touched his lower lip with his finger… and saw blood.

  “Hammya… what happened? Did you do something?”

  “What? No! No, of course not,” she replied quickly as she stepped out of the carriage.

  He stayed behind for a moment, eyeing the tiny wound with suspicion.

  “Is this the right place, sir?” the coachman asked.

  “Yes. This is fine.”

  Candado shut the carriage door and gave the coachman a signal to depart.

  “Thank you for your kindness,” he said in farewell.

  “My pleasure,” replied the coachman with a smile, before driving off.

  Candado turned his head toward Hammya, who was still avoiding his gaze. They walked in silence for a few minutes until he finally spoke.

  “Hammya, you’ve been unusually quiet… and you won’t show me your face. Is something wrong?”

  “No. Nothing,” she said, lips tight.

  “Look at me when I speak.”

  “No, it’s fine like this.”

  Candado sighed.

  “As you wish.”

  The silence followed them all the way to the port.

  Once there, Candado and Hammya boarded a sailboat, as there were no state ships available at Neptune Port to take them to their destination.

  “It looks like a prison,” Hammya remarked, eyeing the distant silhouette of the island.

  “It is a prison,” Candado replied, staring at her.

  A few hours earlier…

  Candado sat on a cushion, while Lila hugged him from behind.

  “You know, I understand your need for physical contact. I won’t push you away,” he said calmly. “But I’d appreciate it if, while you’re doing that, you used your vocal cords to tell me what you’re trying to hold back inside.”

  “Oh, so you noticed?”

  “I know this moment of privacy isn’t just about your desire to become a mother… or at least, not entirely.”

  “Then I’ll say it plainly, without involving your parents: would you agree to have a child with me?”

  “Ah…”

  “I want your honest answer, please.”

  Lila trembled slightly.

  “You know I’m twelve. I’m a pre-teen, just barely beginning the road to becoming a teenager. If I were just any boy, I’d say yes. I’d let my hormonal instincts lead the way, or something. But I’m not like that. I consider myself someone more thoughtful, more rational—or at least I try to be. Before anything else, I want to ask: What does being a mother mean to you?”

  “I don’t know… I never had one,” she replied quietly. “I ate her.”

  “Not to mention you don’t know what could happen during or after the pregnancy. You don’t know if what happened to your mother might happen to you. You might lose control from the blood loss… you could get hungry during childbirth, and eat it.”

  “Are you afraid for the child… or for me?”

  “For both.”

  Lila rested her chin on his shoulder.

  “Tell me your answer. Do you want to… or not?”

  “In short, no.”

  “I figured…”

  “But,” Candado added, gently touching the hand Lila had resting on his chest, “it might be something worth considering when I’m seventeen. And besides, when the time comes for me to go… I’d like to leave you something to remember me by. Your immortality won’t hurt as much if you share it with someone.”

  “If that ever happens… we’d both be miserable.”

  “But you’d have someone to lean on. And so would I.”

  “Thank you, Candado…”

  “Don’t thank me. That’s just how I feel now… though it might change,” he added with a smirk.

  Lila kissed him gently on the cheek.

  “I’ll make sure of it.”

  “I want to see that.” Then his face grew serious. “Now tell me… what’s going on?”

  “The truth is… I met with someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Chronos.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He spoke about a war… and that he’s preparing me mentally for what’s coming. No matter how you look at it, Candado… I still don’t trust him. Be careful.”

  Present.

  “First Héctor… and now Lila. What are you planning, Chronos?”

  “Did you say something?” asked Hammya.

  “Nothing, just thinking out loud.”

  Candado and Hammya finally arrived at the island. At the dock, a familiar figure awaited them.

  “Well, look who it is,” said Candado with a smile.

  “Good afternoon,” Helga greeted them calmly.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “He told me to wait here. Said someone would show up.”

  “That someone must be me.”

  “I suppose. He also said he’d be expecting you in the main hall for a talk.”

  “For some reason… I’m not surprised.”

  “He’s been doing whatever he wants this past week.”

  “Let’s hope he doesn’t get used to it,” Candado grumbled.

  Helga turned her attention to Hammya.

  “A companion?”

  “Oh, this is Hammya. She’s a friend.”

  “Hi… heh…” Hammya gave a small, awkward wave.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Hammya. You may call me Helga.”

  “Yeah… nice to meet you, Helga.”

  “Anyway, I’ll take you both inside.”

  Candado and Hammya were led down a long corridor into a large, silent chamber.

  “I’m sorry, but the girl must stay here,” Helga said firmly.

  “Nothing will happen,” Candado interjected, “but it might be best if she waits.”

  “Hey, I—”

  “Hammya,” Candado cut her off, his tone soft but serious. “It’s better if you wait here, okay? I need to speak with him… alone.”

  “…Alright,” she agreed reluctantly.

  Candado gave Helga a nod, and she opened the door. He stepped inside without looking back, and as he lifted his gaze, he saw him—Chronos, sitting in a chair, a book resting upside down on his lap.

  “Helloooooooo!”

  “Hello, Chronos. I envy your enthusiasm.”

  “Really?”

  “No.”

  “Then you lied.”

  “I didn’t, because I told the truth.”

  “About which part?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Chronos smiled.

  “Come on, Candado. Don’t be shy. I don’t bite.”

  Candado sat down in the chair, glancing around the room.

  “I thought we’d be in your study, not an interrogation chamber.”

  “I asked for this,” Chronos replied. “The truth is, I’ve always wanted to act out those scenes from the crime movies I watched—the classic police interrogation. Look, I even requested a lamp so you could torture me with it.”

  “I think being locked away for almost a hundred years is finally taking its toll on you.”

  “You’d be the same in my shoes. Don’t judge me.” Chronos leaned forward across the table like a child. “Booo, I’ve wanted to try this for ages.”

  Candado picked up the lamp, switched it on, and pointed it at his own face.

  “Talk. Where are your contacts?” he asked in a deadpan voice.

  Chronos looked stunned.

  “Better turn that off… I’m not feeling well right now.”

  “Because of the light, right?”

  “No, because you’re such a buzzkill.”

  Candado turned the lamp off and sat down again.

  “Now I want to know something.”

  “Alright.”

  “Tell me what you said to Héctor.”

  “About my brother or the cake?”

  “I seriously doubt he asked for help with the latter.”

  “You think so? In another dimension, he did.”

  “Tell me about your brother.”

  “Thanatos will return.”

  “I figured. According to one of your visions, right?”

  “Possibly. If the same possibility repeats across different realities, then to me, it becomes a certainty.”

  “Too bad you're such a lousy prophet.”

  “What?”

  “Saying ‘you all’ will set him free leaves room for interpretation. It could be me, or one of the leaders, or someone else on this island.”

  “That’s something I taught to one of my students. I think his name was Nostradamus.”

  “Oh, that clown with the vague messages anyone can interpret? I don’t blame him. I’d do the same to make money.”

  “It’s a shame he’s only known for that. The guy had a lot more to offer, but he chose to make a living off ambiguity.”

  “Let’s not get sidetracked. I need you to focus on what I’m saying.”

  “I already told you, didn’t I? He will return, and—”

  “Forget it. Same answer. New question. Is Desza dead?”

  “Oh, Desza… I don’t know. I don’t see any link between him and me. So I really don’t know.”

  “Damn it! I thought I’d finally track down that bastard.”

  “That’s a shame.”

  Candado’s eyes landed on a box wrapped like a gift.

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, this box?” Chronos opened it and pulled out a green book. “It’s a gift.”

  “For me?”

  “No, no, no. For your companion.”

  “Who? Helga?”

  “No, for a beautiful lady with green hair.”

  Candado felt an inexplicable discomfort at the description, but he hid it well.

  “Can I see it?”

  “No.”

  Candado’s reply was immediate and sharp, the irritation plain on his face.

  “That’s a shame.”

  Chronos smiled, and that smile made Candado stare hard at him, his mind racing through a thousand reasons why Chronos would want to see Hammya. Then, one theory struck him like lightning, and the surprise surfaced plainly on his face.

  “No…”

  Candado spun around abruptly and saw that Hammya was already there.

  “Impossible!” he growled.

  “Easy now, you’re not far from the truth—but not exactly close to a lie, either.”

  “Candado?” Hammya’s voice trembled with concern.

  “Chronos… is that you?”

  “You don’t want to know that, Candado,” Chronos replied, then turned his gaze to Hammya. “Hello, sweetheart. How did you get in?”

  “Hammya, I told you clearly not to come.”

  “Sorry, I heard you talking about me… And by the way, you didn’t close the door properly.”

  “Out. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Now!”

  Candado, visibly irritated, shouted with firm authority.

  “Candado, stop hassling her. If she doesn’t want to leave, let her stay.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Hmm, are you afraid of me?”

  “No.”

  “That’s a shame,” Chronos said, then glanced again at Hammya. “I have a gift for you. Would you like it?”

  “My dad says never take anything from strangers… especially not from prisoners,” she answered defiantly.

  “Ouch, that hurts, young lady. I suppose he didn’t say anything about ignoring people’s advice about not entering a room with a prisoner, did he?”

  She felt mocked.

  “Hammya, out,” Candado ordered, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the door.

  “Alright, alright, I got it!” she protested, offering no resistance.

  Candado gave her a light push out of the room and slammed the door shut.

  “Wow,” commented Chronos with a grin.

  “Tell me, Clockmaker… do you really need to mess with my mind?”

  “No, I just wanted to give her a gift.”

  Candado stared at him, then shifted his gaze to the box on the table. He walked toward it suddenly, examining it closely.

  “Then you don’t mind if I open it, do you?”

  “You’re so distrustful, friend,” Chronos replied with a shrug. “Go ahead.”

  Candado opened the box. Inside, there was nothing but a green book. He frowned, lifted it carefully, running his fingers across the flap and spine.

  “No magic, no power, not even a simple spell…”

  He opened it. Every page was blank. Three hundred empty sheets.

  “What is this?”

  “A book,” Chronos answered plainly. “Can’t you tell?”

  Candado summoned a violet flame to engulf the book, but it didn’t burn.

  “Something’s protecting it…” he muttered, puzzled.

  He tried to tear a page out, but couldn’t. It was as if the paper was sealed by an invisible force.

  “It’s resistant.”

  He brought it to his nose and sniffed.

  “No scent of poison or potions… doesn’t even smell new or old.”

  “Mind if I take it?” he asked.

  “Well, yes. I do mind. Don’t be so possessive with other people’s gifts, Candado.”

  The boy ignored him. He looked at the book again, his expression growing thoughtful.

  “This book… it gives off something like aquariums… or lagoons… no, something similar, but different…”

  He looked Chronos straight in the eyes.

  “Tell me the truth. This—”

  BAM!*

  The door burst open. Helga stepped in, panting and visibly agitated.

  “Candado… we have a problem.”

  “What happened?”

  “Agents.”

  “What?!”

  Candado rushed out of the room at once.

  “See you around,” Chronos called with a grin.

  “Protect the prisoner!” Candado shouted without looking back.

  He sprinted down the hallway and ran into Hammya on the way.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, worried.

  “Stay here. Don’t leave,” he commanded firmly.

  “But you told me—”

  “This is different! Do not leave this room.” He turned to Helga. “Take me to them.”

  Candado, Helga, and a group of guards disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

  Meanwhile, back in the room, Chronos smiled again, tilting his head toward Hammya.

  “So… shall we talk?”

  Hammya stood still. A strange discomfort crept over her.