Wonderful adventures, magnificent heroes saving the world, fantastic creatures, extraordinary worlds, magical places... Throughout the centuries, humans have dreamed of stories filled with these ingredients, places where they could unleash their imagination and hide from the world they consider real. This story begins in that real world, a world where humans are completely blind to what happens beyond their borders, a world guided by plausibility and only what the senses strictly show; a world where there is no room for stories or fantasies. Some years ago, in a lost little village on the outskirts of a great city—a village fighting to avoid being annexed by the neighboring city, the undisputed leader of the region—a boy was born, and his parents named him Peter. His parents were from the small town of Terrassa and were known for being great people, kind to all the villagers, and above all, honest. Imma and Francesc were well-regarded in the village, and when their first child was born, all the important personalities of the town went to Can Vergés to congratulate the family and see the baby. Little Peter turned out to be a very clever and friendly boy (despite all his countless flaws, which are not relevant now, like his love for basketball), and he was loved by almost everyone in Terrassa (with so few people, it wasn’t hard). Peter grew up like all normal children: he learned to walk, to talk, to get annoyed, and little by little, to discover the world around him. Time passed, and he experienced his first day at nursery, his first summer holidays, his first Christmas, his first trip to La Mola, his first stay at the beach with his family, his first birthday party... until suddenly, the boy was already six years old and it was time for him to go to school. His parents were excited; it was a very special day. They had bought him a new backpack, which he had filled with everything he needed for first grade. When he arrived at school, all nervous, he got out of the car, kissed and hugged his parents, and with an uncertain step, walked toward the door to discover what this new life at school would be like. When school ended, Peter said goodbye to the friends he had made and began walking home; his parents had already told him he would always have to walk back, since they were working and taking care of his little sister. With his backpack full and looking both ways before crossing, Peter strolled along at his own pace. Halfway home, the black clouds that covered the sky began to unleash a heavy downpour, thunder and lightning included. Not wanting to get wet—and a little afraid of the thunder—he decided to enter the first door he saw, which, by bad luck, turned out to be the village chapel. The door creaked as he entered the small building, which was dark, with only a little light coming through the stained glass and the small rose window at the back. It was so cold it chilled him to the bone, but at least it was dry and safe. Once he got used to the place, he did what any good child would do: investigate. He started running back and forth, from one side of the chapel to the other, entering every chapel and every door he saw. He snooped everywhere until he discovered a small door that led to an old wooden staircase going up. Curious, he began to climb slowly until he reached a small room that opened to the outside, where the chapel bells hung. From there, he could see the storm raging over the village. Suddenly, a great flash crowned the sky and shot straight toward him. Terrified, he tried to hide so the lightning wouldn’t strike him, and crouching at the last second, he felt a strange heat pass over him and a loud noise filled the chamber. After two minutes, not daring to get up, he stood, turned around, and saw that where there had been a stone wall, there was now a large hole that, instead of leading outside, opened into another small room. Amazed at having discovered a secret chamber, he gathered his courage and dared to enter. It smelled musty and had no windows; it was small and a bit claustrophobic, but thanks to the lightning’s light coming through the hole, he could make out the shapes in the room. Strangely, the only things in the room were books—two large bookshelves lined the side walls, filled with old, dusty tomes. Next to the hole were scattered scrolls, and the only other piece of furniture was a kind of chair that looked very uncomfortable. Since the room was so tiny, it didn’t take him long to notice what seemed most important: on a pedestal, at the farthest end from where he stood, was a book that didn’t look as old as the others, and from which a soft light and a faint hum emanated. Intrigued, he approached the strange book, reached out, and grabbed it; at that moment, the light went out and the sound stopped. Even more puzzled, he decided to open it, only to find that all the pages were completely blank—there was nothing written! Zzzzzbrumppaaaam!!! A final thunderclap echoed everywhere, ending the storm. Grabbing the book and putting it in his backpack, Peter ran out of the chapel and hurried home before his parents could wonder where he’d been. When he arrived, he saw that no one was home yet, so he went to his room to take out the mysterious book. It was still completely dark, and every page was blank. Disappointed, he tossed it onto his bed just as he heard the front door open; he ran to greet his parents and left the book there, all alone.