Under the Uritorco Sky
Mount Uritorco breathed slowly that night.
Lumira sat on a blanket in front of her tent, knees pulled to her chest, her gaze lost in the sky. She liked to think that if she stayed silent long enough, the stars would eventually tell her something. Not words—never words—but that soft sensation in her chest, as if something invisible recognized her.
She had traveled alone.
Not because she had no one to go with, but because she needed that silence just for herself.
Lola, her mother, didn’t want her to come. She had told her a thousand times. That it was dangerous, that the mountain was no place for a girl alone, that there were strange stories, that people disappeared. Lumira had nodded, promised to think about it… and came anyway.
Now she was there, with the cold night air brushing against her skin and a strange peace flowing through her body.
She didn’t hear any distinct sound.
No footsteps.
No engines.
No wind.
Simply… he was there.
“Hello,” a voice said beside her.
Lumira gave a small start, bringing her hand to her chest.
“Whoa!” she let out, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you arrive.”
The boy was a few steps away. He was tall and blonde, with shoulder-length hair tied in a messy half-ponytail. He had a calm way of standing—too calm for someone appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the mountain.
“Forgive me,” he said. “Did you see the car I got out of?”
She frowned.
“The car?” she repeated. “No… I was looking at the sky. Why? Did something happen? Do I need to see the license plate or…?”
The boy watched her for a few seconds longer than necessary. His eyes seemed to search for something in her, as if expecting a different reaction.
“No, no,” he finally said. “Don’t worry. It was just a question.”
Lumira looked at him with curiosity. Something about him was strange, but not unsettling. Rather… out of place. As if he didn’t quite fit into the landscape.
“If you want, you can sit down,” she told him, pointing to the grass beside her.
He hesitated for just a second, as if that invitation carried more weight than it seemed, and then he sat.
They talked.
About simple things.
About the trip.
About the mountain.
About how beautiful the sky was that night.
Max—because that’s how he introduced himself—was fascinated by the way Lumira spoke. Not just what she said, but the manner: as if she were always connected to something larger, even if she didn't know exactly what.
The first drops of rain fell without warning.
“Uh…” she murmured, looking at the sky. “It’s starting to pour.”
The rain intensified in seconds.
“You can stay in here,” Lumira said, already on her feet. “I can't just leave you out there.”
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he replied.
“It’s okay. It’s fine.”
And so, without knowing it, Lumira opened the door not only to her tent…
but to everything that was about to change.
