Chapter 2: The Touch of Fate

Eons came and went—tides of time that eroded empires and ground mountains into dust. Deep within the heart of a young, turbulent planet called Earth, one of the Spheres of Light felt the crushing weight of those millennia. Lost and solitary, its golden energy—once a beacon of hope—faded slowly, like a dying ember. Its radiant glow gave way to a dull, stony shell, its surface crystallizing into a protective armor that made it indistinguishable from any other mineral buried in the darkness. Its mission, its sacred promise, fell into a deep slumber.

Millennia later, the sound of pickaxes and the hum of modern machinery shattered the silence of a newly discovered cavern. A team of explorers, their faces lit by the beams of their headlamps, found what appeared to be an unusually perfect geode. It was spherical, possessing a symmetry rarely found in nature. Unaware of the cosmic power sleeping within, they cataloged it as a geological curiosity and brought it into the light of the surface for the first time in countless generations.

Weeks passed...

The low, monotonous hum of the air conditioning at the Museum of Natural History was the only thing keeping sixteen-year-old Moises awake. To him, this field trip was less an educational experience and more an endurance test against boredom. While his classmates crowded, noisy and excited, around the colossal skeleton of a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Moises was in a world of his own. His focus was entirely on his sketchbook—a refuge where his hands breathed life into the heroes of his own stories: warriors in gleaming armor and sorcerers bending reality to their will.

"And now, class, if you’ll follow me..." the teacher said, her voice straining to be heard over the chatter. She guided them toward the museum’s newest acquisition: the "Treasures of the Underground" exhibit.

There, isolated atop a lit glass pedestal, sat the sphere. A small brass plaque described it with clinical simplicity: "Geode of Unknown Composition." To most students, it was profoundly uninteresting—dark, lifeless, just a round rock. They shuffled past it with the typical indifference of teenagers, eager to reach the gift shop.

But as Moises drew near, something changed. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but a strange, inexplicable curiosity that pulled him closer to the glass, as if an invisible thread linked his heart to that stone. In that instant, a subtle, almost imperceptible vibration rippled through the air around him. A faint light, dim as a distant star, began to pulse deep within the heart of the rock.

"Are you seeing this?" Moises whispered to no one in particular, his eyes wide. But his voice was lost in the noise. No one seemed to notice.

Driven by an impulse he didn’t understand, he reached out and touched his index finger to the cold glass separating him from the artifact.

The response was immediate and spectacular.

As if his touch were a key, a web of golden fissures tore across the dark surface of the sphere, releasing light that had been imprisoned for eons. A high-pitched electric hum filled the room, making the hair on the back of Moises’ neck stand on end. The artifact released a cascade of brilliant sparks—golden particles that danced in the air like magical fireflies before vanishing with a soft crackle.

And then, as suddenly as it had begun, everything stopped. Silence returned to the room. The sphere was, once again, nothing more than a dark and inert rock. The few who turned to see the source of the noise saw only Moises staring fixedly at the stone and quickly lost interest.

But the signal had been sent. The seed had awakened.

Far away, beyond the veil of stars visible from Earth, in a citadel of light floating in the cosmic void, a figure seated upon a throne of pure energy shuddered violently. His eyes, which had remained closed in meditation for millennia, snapped open, revealing irises of molten gold, brilliant and intense.

He had felt it. Across oceans of space and time, the unmistakable resonance had reached him. The spark of a new Magic Dorado had been ignited.

His long and solitary vigil had ended. His mission had begun anew.