When the stillness of twilight meets the coolness of the grey misty morning, when the sky twitches with a golden pink haze and the green world awakens, she sits on the emerald grass under the canopy of trees, strokes her palm gently over the petals of blossoming flowers and waits.
In immortality there is also joy, which settles on the lips with bitterness as soon as a smile touches the face. In immortality, days are erased, dry leaves of memories crumble, and nothing matters, there is no truth and evil, there is no warmth and laughter, the heart is frozen, and only melted tears on pale cheeks remind that life is not yet gone, it inhales and exhales rarely and runs through the blood, pounding with one thought: ‘I will wait’.
“I'll be waiting for you,” the girl whispers into the void, knowing he'll hear. “Just come back. I believe your words.”
She tucks back the strands of hair that the blue wind has blown over her eyes and smiles shyly at the approaching sun, which breaks through the leaves and draws sunbeams on the petals, dotted with dewdrops that make the air sparkle with light.
“I believe you, because you said you'd get back to me.”
“I'll get back, I'll get back... I'll get back,” the wind echoed.
A tear hits a leaf, makes it bounce, flicks the dewdrops away and they disappear into oblivion.
“I'll be waiting.”
Life is like dew. A single tear falls, and the divine wind picks up the drops and dries them, dissolving human destinies in the oblivion of death. And only love lives a little longer, it is like the scent of a falling petal, caught by the wind and carried to the heavenly azure where the gods enjoy the fragrance of sincere and tender feelings.
Since the world of Born faded into oblivion, only two remain. They cannot fade into nothingness, for they will be punished forever. The gods who know of them have given them other names. Life and Death. The Beginning and the End. A fragrant silver bud and a swarm of night moths. An eternal circle, they condemned to wander forever in space, striving to meet. But when they touch, life disappears under the breath of death, and death, feeling the warmth of life, dissolves into darkness until they meet again.
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This is the story of Drago and Eris, a cursed prince and a beautiful maiden destined for another...”
Gisborne closed the book in utter silence.
So vivid were the fragments of the legend that floated through my mind. I exhaled quietly, “It's decided. They'll be called Drago and Eri.”
“I hope the kittens have a much happier fate...” Grant said mockingly.
I frowned. I definitely didn't like Circul's hint. Sometimes he had a tendency to look for bad things.
“In my day, it was fashionable to name children after villains. It was thought to bring good luck and ward off evil forces,” Gisborne said reassuringly.
“That's why they named you after the worst wizard of all time, isn't it, Grandpa?” the blonde-haired guy asked ironically.
“I actually thought the most horrible and terrifying wizard of all time was Kai Asterius...” The grandfather could not be outdone in the teasing department.
I laughed, admiring the look of annoyance on Asanor Junior's face. For decades, the scholars of the Academy had debated who was the cruelest mage, whether it was Gisborne Tazio or Kai Asterius. It seemed to be a sore subject for the blue-eyed master of the Barg.
Once upon a time, people liked to name their children after bloodthirsty and cruel tyrants, but lately, for most of us, these names were just another reminder of shameful milestones in the country's history. For over a hundred years, the Samun Empire, the Kingdom of Rith and Unica had been quietly competing for the title of best country. And the history of the states was not far behind in this senseless rivalry of nations.
So the citizens, especially the rulers of this world, tried to rewrite the chronicles and hide any mention of historical figures undesirable for development and prosperity. Kai must have been teased a lot as a child because of his name.
Unfortunately, we don't get to choose what we're called after we're born. Even that is something our parents limit us to. And sometimes, along with the name they give us, they also give us the cruelty that will greet us in the world. Cruelty simply because we have been given a thoughtless name.
But I hoped that a happy future, a carefree life and a quiet old age awaited our dear foundlings. In the end, the gods themselves took pity on Drago and Eris. The end of their story wasn't so bad after all.
I glanced furtively at Grant, who was watching the kitten's play with fascination. Never before had his gaze been so warm and gentle. It was as if all the fire that had been a fiery blaze of anger, resentment and doom was now warming and softening, tempered and tamed.
What will be the end of our story? Will it be death? Oblivion? Or eternal regret for the past, with no possibility of forgiving or forgetting? Or, as in a fairy tale, a happy ending?
I didn't know. And I didn't even want to guess.