The Threshold of Ebrenzhar

Greetings, dear readers. I hope you like it and that your mind doesn't fragment or reach beyond illusion or fiction. Beyond antiquity or the medieval, there is a forgotten crypt beneath the Altazar Monastery. There is a door without a lock, carved in black stone that doesn't reflect light, making it very unique and striking when you see it. It wasn't made by human light; it is called the Threshold of Ebrenzhar.

Just think of your mind when you reach the moon, the farthest point in the sky, and the atmosphere trembles with a whisper that I have barely heard from one. That threshold frequently vibrates something aloof, since neither monks nor priests, and the few who breathe in faith, seal their lips with sacred wax, so as not to mention it in vain, because they know that what happened centuries ago will cross over into these present times.

Ebrenzhar is when I say, where is your mind or mine, for it is a plane where time flows inward and emotions take a more physical turn into the unknown, where your mind fragments, arriving at those demons who have no horns or wings, only memories of oblivion, broken promises and fulfillment, anger, envy, whose voices are beyond, in breath with a web of movement, our guilt.

Until one day, a young Sublime scholar named Kaerl, obsessed with the secrets of the other dark side, broke the central seal of this enigmatic threshold, not out of malice, but seeking the knowledge that no one asked of him.

Until he came to the forefront within the unknown world, traversing the realm of the Skreull, the debt-eating wolf whose burning library hand prompted him to walk further, where the shadows would not catch him, as they followed the singer of the eternal screams of punishment, taking the form of the most loving person in your memory, until just before dying in your real life.

Within that plane, the abbey fell into shadows. Clocks began to turn backward. The words of the sacred books, which he found in that place, like a library formed by all the walls of a church, no one could comment on how immense it was. Under the shadows, the books were the prayer written alone. But in reverse, what mystery does this acentral world solve? What mystical plane is this person immersed in? Since men cannot walk if there is no light in their headlights? Their heart beats like a cage of bones, guiding the demons who have eyes. But without hunger, a threshold remains open. And our friend, the threshold was lost, leaving the doors open.

But in the end, there was that same open door, to that same young man who is now an old man, managing to close it.