Leonard’s story begins to unfold on a distant plane, beneath the sky of the Great Mother Amirëan and her offspring, the Naolór. It was in a land of ancient human history, where the stars of that time regularly coursed across the vast expanse bound by what seemed an endless chain of mountains. Rushing rivers cut through these lands, and their banks were embraced by fragrant meadows and groves. Here, the mighty kingdom of Eleman flourished. This kingdom, whispered of even in far-flung regions, was held firmly by the hand of a powerful king, whose strength in youth seemed to know no bounds. Foreigners spoke Eleman's name with admiration, and the people held in their hearts all the glory of his realm. During his reign, he expanded its borders with vast territories, and in the course of his campaigns, he led his coat of arms to victory in many bloody battles. The world knew him as a stern but fair ruler, whose commitment to service was etched into his aging face.
Despite all the glory Eleman had gained, his life passed under the shadow of a single sorrow that haunted him with age, like an ever-lengthening shadow. All his efforts, victories, and the expansion of his realm had no one to inherit them. And as the weight of time pressed ever more heavily on him, though the fruits of his achievements shone brightly, disappointment deepened his wrinkles—no woman had yet borne him a son or daughter.
Many had taken their place beside the throne, yet only the last, his fourth queen, the mysteriously beautiful Dramila, proved a fertile ground for his seed and brought powerful light to Eleman’s chambers at a time when no one had dared hope. In the moment a star fell across the night sky, she gave birth to a son whom the king named Leonard. Then, in the royal halls, a jubilation resounded that lasted for months. Leonard, a child of the heavens, was welcomed with a joy that bridged the long years of hope and emptiness in the king’s chambers. The prince was considered a gift of the gods, a blessing, and Eleman believed that this son would inherit not only the throne but also his immeasurable strength.
During the celebration, where there was feasting and drinking, gifts streamed through the doors, and visitors from the remotest corners of the realm dined at the king's table. Then, three women entered the palace, appearing as old as the earth itself. Clad in unusual robes, with pearls woven in their hair and amulets casting shimmering glows around their necks, they seemed like beings from another time and place. Everyone who saw them felt a strange unease, but also an unspoken respect for their presence.
These women, known as the Fates, approached young Leonard and foretold for him a destiny filled with glory, joy, and a long, remarkable journey through life. They congratulated him on ruling over a kingdom greater than any known in this land and blessed his future sons and daughters with light. But there was one condition—Leonard was destined to one day renounce this land, to leave all he knew, and to set out on a journey toward another life. At these words, Eleman’s gaze grew cold, and anger rose in his heart. He ordered the brazen crones to be silent. Obeying the king’s command, his servants bound the crones and prepared to burn them at the stake like sickly beasts for their insolence, for their prophecy struck him like an icy blade.
From that moment, Eleman’s life became the story of a restless father who taught his only son, his heir, and the hope of his throne, all he knew. Leonard grew up under the careful watch of the king’s guards, learning to ride horses, hunt game, and shoot with a bow like a lord. Wherever he went, he encountered spies feigning work nearby. Alongside the king’s vigilant eye and the kingdom’s greatest masters, he was compelled to familiarize himself with the ancient scrolls of sages and learn all the secrets of nature so that one day, when he was strong enough, he could lead his people with a firm and wise hand.
The king’s tension and regret did not dissipate, even as Leonard grew older. The prophecy of the old women stayed rooted deep in his mind, and as he aged, his worry grew. Leonard became a handsome and strong young man, with curly hair and eyes as bright as icy pools. People said he had the body of ancient warriors, and they sang of gods who might have carved his face. Yet, when noble families offered their daughters, and women from neighboring lands, damp with desire, paid him their respects and sought his favor, Leonard scorned such offers. He spent his time instead with his squires and sought solace in nature.
One day, when King Eleman celebrated his grand anniversary and the entire kingdom plunged into jubilant festivities, Leonard felt an irresistible urge to be at the heart of its whirl. He disguised himself so that no one would recognize his face, and under cover, with his squires, he ventured into the night streets, where the distant sounds of revelry, laughter, and merry music could be heard, and where, among torch flames, half-naked women, jugglers, and fire masters strolled.
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As Leonard wandered amid the stalls of spices and ale in the night of contented revelry, his gaze was drawn to a crowd gathered in a courtyard where, in their midst, an extraordinarily beautiful dancer moved. It was Yelena, known as the Star of the Evening. Her dance was as graceful as the movement of stars in the sky, her long legs lightly gliding above the smoke from barrels, and her dress shimmered as if woven from the night sky. Men watched her every move in reverent silence, entranced, while their wives pulled them away, vexed with jealousy, muttering curses of witchcraft.
Leonard, too, could not tear his eyes from the enchanting Yelena. His heart pounded like drums against the walls of strong rocks, and from that sound, deep within him, something awoke, something he had never known before. When their gazes finally met across the distance, a connection was forged so profound that Leonard knew he had to speak to this woman of ethereal beauty.
Slowly, he approached her, and as he spoke to her, Yelena smiled at him. Together, they walked through the golden streets until the morning’s first rays, bound by an enchantment where their steps were accompanied by a mysterious silence, broken only by the distant echoes of the fading carnival. Each tentative step brought with it a restless joy and something that delved deeper into his soul, as if an ancient secret he subconsciously knew had opened upon seeing her. Yelena walked beside him, gazing into his radiant eyes; no, she floated with an otherworldly allure, and each movement seemed to pierce further into the burning core of his heart. Her face gleamed with luminous pearl reflections beneath the moonlight, scattered through her long, light hair, and in her gaze, Leonard could see an entire universe that from this moment would endlessly draw him in.
"From where do you come, mysterious one, that no one here has known you before?" Leonard finally asked, struggling with his breath and wild heart.
"I am but a wandering spirit, my prince," Yelena replied, her voice soft, slightly hushed, yet filled with hidden warmth. "My paths carry me like the wind, and I linger only where I feel something... extraordinary."
"Then it seems that the night sky has brought you to me, just as it brought the star that fell when I came into this world," Leonard whispered, his voice soft. In his eyes was a peculiar glimmer, as though trying to peer into the mystery he sensed from Yelena.
Yelena gazed silently at the tips of her bare toes, hiding a slight smile on her face.
“Why do you say nothing, noble lady? Surely I have not offended you…”
“No, my prince, not at all. On the contrary, I am immensely honored by your comparison to the stars. Their sparks indeed glow with a shimmering tone in my palms, if I so choose, shining so brightly they can enchant not only the mind but also alter physical shapes or command the elements of this world. If I were not afraid of dulling your interest, I would show you… but tonight is not yet the right time, for we have only just met.”
Leonard could barely grasp her words, but something in her tone reminded him of all the stories his old nurse had told him as a child about distant places and mysterious forces. Those two shy souls stole whole hours, yet mere moments passed before their shared steps halted before Yelena’s tent, set up with exotic fabrics and a faint, intoxicating scent of herbs, spices, and precious oils.
In that mist, Yelena approached dangerously close, her hand gently resting on his arm, and in that moment, time suddenly stopped. By the light of the dimming lanterns, Leonard could see every fold of her dress as it clung to her body like a soft whisper of the wind. He felt nearly the weight of her breasts, trembling as she tried to steady her breath.
"I would so love to be a part of your world, yet I must remember who I am, and that I am unworthy of your favor in my true form…," she whispered, her voice a broken song fading in the distance.
“Say no such thing, my dear... Let me judge that for myself,” the prince replied, lifting her worries with his touch.
Then, silently, they slipped into the tent, where Yelena, with her allure, lit candles whose light cast warm golden shadows upon their glistening faces. Everything around them, walls of brocade and a ceiling woven with star patterns, closed them off into a small hidden world, where no bird would sing of what took place within.
In his stillness, Yelena drew near to him, her eyes reflecting a deep ocean filled with the wisdom of ages. Without another word, she leaned toward his silent lips to meet in a kiss. In that single awakening, Leonard understood he was forever lost—that in her, he had found the missing part of himself and that only by her side could he truly live. And so, as the prophecy foretold, he crossed into the guarded secret of his starry lady that very dawn, and the fates began to rejoice.