The second week as a Resilient arrived with the same humid, persistent heat as always, but Gabriel woke with a completely different sensation in his chest — expectation.
The WhatsApp group was already buzzing. Carlos sending technical articles, Caio sharing sunrise photos, Felipe scheduling meetings. And Leonardo, pragmatic as ever: "Coffee at 7:30. We have serious work."
Gabriel smiled, typing quickly: "On my way."
It was strange how those three simple words carried more purpose than anything he'd written in months.
…
The "Sweet Future" project was spread across three tables, documents arranged according to impeccable SMART methodology.
Small glass jars contained Amazonian sweets. Gabriel picked up an experimental brigadeiro. The flavor exploded on his tongue — distinct layers of familiar comfort and unique, acidic complexity.
"Good, right?" said a warm feminine voice behind him.
He turned to find a woman he didn't recognize. Dark hair in a practical bun, square-framed glasses, confident posture.
"Very good," Gabriel replied. "Did you make this?"
She smiled. "Ana Lúcia Santos. I'm the pastry chef from Altamira who's trying not to ruin my grandmother's recipes with all this modern technology," she joked. "And you must be Gabriel."
"That's me," he said.
"Marina has an exceptional eye for people," Ana Lúcia replied. "She doesn't praise for politeness. She only praises potential."
…
The morning passed quickly. Gabriel found himself naturally mediating between perspectives — translating Carlos's technical jargon for Ana Lúcia, simplifying Caio's complex ideas for Felipe.
"Man," said Leonardo during a break, "you have a rare talent for making everyone understand each other."
"How so?" Gabriel asked.
"You connect people's ideas almost magically. It's like you're a natural bridge between completely different worlds."
The word bridge reverberated strangely in Gabriel's chest. Not just a metaphor. A weight.
"That's exactly right," Caio agreed. "Yesterday you did the same with the water project."
Marina looked up. "Bridge," she said thoughtfully. "I like that much more than Spark. Has more... permanence."
Gabriel felt a slight involuntary tremor in his hands. As if the nickname carried echoes of ancient responsibilities his conscious mind preferred to keep buried.
…
"People," Marina announced, "how about we celebrate? You've created something special today."
Ana Lúcia suggested the Estação das Docas.
Gabriel walked among the historic port warehouses transformed into a modern complex, observing how past and present coexisted. They settled at a table with a view of the Guajará River. The water stretched vast and dark, dotted with small boats.
"First time seeing the river up close?" Marina asked.
"It's completely different from what I imagined," Gabriel replied, unable to look away. "More... ancient. As if it had memories."
Caio laughed. "Brother, this river has seen everything. Indigenous wars, colonial expeditions..."
The word wars made something strange happen in Gabriel's chest. A sudden tightness.
They ordered açaí and fish. Gabriel tasted it, and his body recognized the combination of flavors from somewhere deep in primitive memory.
"Have you ever thought about why Enactus works so well here?" Ana Lúcia asked. "Because here you can't ignore reality. Social projects are urgent survival necessity."
"Exactly," Marina agreed. "Physical and cultural proximity to the Amazon makes everything more immediate."
Gabriel nodded, but a sharp headache began forming behind his eyes.
…
Then the sky darkened.
"Three in the afternoon," said Leonardo. "Amazonian nature doesn't miss a schedule."
The rain arrived like a dense curtain. The sound of intense rain mixed with the river, creating a natural symphony that made Gabriel unconsciously distance himself. The headache intensified.
Ana Lúcia noticed. "Gabriel? You went pale."
But he couldn't respond. The sound of water had transformed into something completely different—shouts, metal clashing, footsteps running on ancient stone...
[System Alert: Sensory Overload Detected.]
[Memory Leak: Battle of the Shattered Span.]
…
The bridge was an ancient stone structure, lost in fog. The deafening sound of battle echoed — metal against metal, desperate cries, the deadly whistle of arrows.
Gabriel ran across the narrow structure, a heavy sword in his hand, protecting something — or someone — behind him.
"The bridge cannot fall!" shouted a familiar feminine voice. "Without it, they can't escape!"
He stopped at the center, turning to face a dark figure. "Then let them come," he said with iron determination, raising the sword that gleamed with light. "A bridge always defends itself."
The battle was brief. Violent. When it ended, he was on his knees on wet stone — not from rain, but from blood. The bridge had resisted. People had escaped.
But he...
…
"Gabriel!"
Ana Lúcia's voice brought him back with sudden violence. He was trembling, hands closed in tight fists as if wielding a weapon.
"Man, you went white," Caio said, concerned.
"Nothing," Gabriel lied quickly, forcing his hands to relax. "Just... the rain sound reminded me of something unpleasant."
Ana Lúcia studied him with analytical eyes. "Sudden pallor, tremors... history of migraines?"
"No, everything's fine," he interrupted too quickly.
Marina checked the time. "Let's head back."
…
That night, alone in the apartment, Gabriel couldn't shake the discomfort. He paced the living room, trying to process images that felt like absolute memories.
His eyes found the sword keychain. He picked it up.
The metal was hot. When the LED light hit it, the metal seemed to absorb light like a black hole, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The world tilted.
…
He was kneeling in a stone chamber before a massive sword.
"Do you swear to be the bridge between worlds?" asked a voice from everywhere.
"I solemnly swear," his younger self responded.
"Then accept this title: Bridge of Worlds, guardian of paths."
A hand rested on his shoulder—firm, warm. "Rise, chosen one."
When he rose, he saw familiar faces. And at their center, a feminine figure with silver eyes full of sadness.
…
Gabriel dropped the keychain. It bounced with a normal metallic sound.
But the memories remained. Bridge of Worlds.
He sat heavily on the sofa. It was impossible.
But the certainty grew.
…
Long after midnight, Gabriel left the apartment. He needed air. He walked until he found a café still open, golden light escaping through fogged windows.
He entered.
A single guitar note floated in the air. Soft. Melancholic.
And then he saw her.
Not her from the impossible past — but a reflection close enough to ache.
She was sitting alone in the corner, writing in a notebook. Dark hair, thoughtful eyes.
Gabriel ordered coffee. He sat two tables away.
The music changed. She looked up. Their gazes met.
…
"Do you write?" she asked. Voice light, curious.
Gabriel hesitated. "Sometimes."
"About what?"
"About things I'm afraid of losing."
The air between them seemed fragile.
She smiled — warm, genuine. "Sofia," she said, extending a hand across the empty space. "And you should write much more.
"Gabriel," he replied, taking her hand. It was warm. Human. Anchoring.
…
Walking home, Gabriel touched the keychain.
He thought about the bridge battle. He thought about Sofia in the café.
One image was fire. The other was soft light.
And deep in his soul, he knew — soon, he would have to choose. Not just between memories, but between worlds.
When he finally slept, dreams returned.
He wasn't walking on bridges — he was the bridge. His arms stretched over abysses. .People walked over him with confidence.
"Some people are born to create paths where others see only abysses," the familiar voice whispered.
"Who are you?" he asked in the dream.
"Someone who knows you better than you know yourself. Someone waiting for you to remember."
Gabriel woke with a name burning in his throat like fire:
Luna.
Complete. Indisputable.
Outside, Belém awakened. But Gabriel knew something fundamental had changed.
He wasn't just remembering another world.
Another world was actively remembering him.