When Ellenore was but a girl, much younger, she and her father had the great displeasure of planning the layout of their home. Ell’s mother had passed only seasons before then, so the idea of moving into a new home was cold. Neither the girl nor her father had heart in the endeavor, though it marked the ending of a great chapter and the slow start of another.
“In this world, everything dwells beneath two grand umbrellas: one that stirs our souls and one that serves our needs. My father, a master of intricate machines, has found his purpose under the latter’s shelter. My mother, before she left this world, was a creature of deep emotion. She wielded her anger and love with equal grace. Since her departure, it seems Father and I have lost a part of ourselves. The connective tissue holding two bones in conjunction has deteriorated, but the bones remain, knowing they belong in place among one another. We cherish my mother’s memory dearly, but a memory fades. Still, I know she had found her place beneath her own umbrella.”
In the earlier years, before their house was up, the great inventor had become estranged from his daughter. He knew if they could not find joy in something, they would surely remain in winter. So he asked Ellenore if she could have anything in their new home, what would it be.
Ell took days to give an answer. Her thoughts were made heavy with ideas her mother might have proposed. In the end, she told her father she wanted a garden.
“The outside world peers through narrow windows, assuming I should inherit my father’s legacy. They believe I lack his practicality, that my devotion to magic is merely a nostalgic grasp for my mother’s essence. Yet, they are mistaken. Magic transcends mere emotion or utility. It encompasses both and more.”
The great inventor designed a grand garden. It encompassed the first markings of his plan of their house. He spent weeks penning pages only to toss them to flames in frustration. Nothing could satisfy his ambition. Such a simple place had to do the impossible. Save him from the ghost of his wife, free his daughter from misery, and become the heart of their new home. Weaving his ideals took a purposeful struggle. But struggle he did.
“Then your fascination?” Kurt asked as he followed the lady of the house around the manor’s garden.
“Machines, for all their purposes, are often cold, hollow things. I have spent my entire upbringing in their mechanical embrace. Though I hold fond memories, they are burdened by unyielding utility. My father, the herald of revolution, has obscured the beauty of what already exists. Must we abandon all woodwork for metal? Cast aside every clay statue for marble?” Ellenore continued on her leisure tour.
In the outdoor garden, every tree and flower stood as a testament to the precision and artistry of metalwork. Metallic blossoms swayed in the wind, their petals forged from copper and iron, with each leaf a perfect replica of nature’s own. At its creation, on first glance, the garden appeared flawless.
It was a shimmering utopia of craftsmanship.
Yet, time had its way with the metallic haven. Rust crept into the veins of iron leaves, turning them shades of deep orange and rich red. Copper flowers were tarnished into a mosaic of greens and blues, each hue adding a layer of complexity. What was once a rigid display of artificial perfection evolved into a vibrant landscape teeming with unexpected colors and textures.
The creator, Ell’s father, perhaps dismayed by the “imperfections,” might never have envisioned the garden’s true beauty. The patina of age, the oxidation, the rust—all those so-called flaws imbued the metal garden with a warmth and life that sterility could never achieve. Ironically, those touches of decay breathed soul into the garden, making it a living masterpiece of resilience and change.
“If my heart desired, I could forge metal and craft machines to rival my father’s creations. Yet, metal has never been my medium. In this overly complicated house, its presence suffocates me,” Ellenore explained and brought her stride to a halt when she and the boy found a patch of imitation Lemon Blossoms.
Ell’s voice took a moment of silence as her eyes fixated on the flowers. Kurt, at her side, if not a step behind, imagined that spot had brought a shock of disgust or disappointment to the girl’s mind, but Ellenore was taken back to a fond memory.
The day her father unveiled the metal garden, she was at first displeased by the soulless atmosphere. That was until, in absent thoughts, she tripped and fell off the path. Landing in that patch of lemon blossoms at the age of 10 and some change, her dress was cut to ribbons on the hard and jagged petals. Her hair, while she strained to stand without cutting her flesh, entangled in the metal, trapping her for moments that felt long and hopeless. But when she gave up resisting against the bind, her eyes found a cloud in the sky that seemed to comfort her agony.
Laying in bleeding distress, her heart slowed to a calm pace until she forgot her predicament. When her father eventually came to the rescue, the only way to pull her from the ground was to cut her hair and rip her garments. Ell’s father swore he would rip the garden up and replace it with something new, something better, but Ell asked him not to. She told her father, “This garden must stay.”
And thought the great inventor couldn’t comprehend why his daughter had grown attached to something that would hurt her, so he agreed to leave it. Even after rust and tarnish came, he never went back on his word.
“Magic, however, is a different medium, a difficult one to study. Books on the subject are scarce, offering little guidance. And so, I must leave. I must explore. If I am to master magic as my father has mastered machines. I can not afford to halt my studies. The world beckons, and I must answer. Thankfully, my father understands this, where many others fail to,” Ellenore went on and tilted her head from the ground up to the sky, where clouds took on abstract shapes.
While the woman looked at the sky, Kurt looked to her with equal curiosity. “So where will we go? My knowledge of what lay beyond the city is limited at best,” he admitted.
“Cog City is one of five great human civilizations, but beyond the gate, entire worlds led by elms await. Over the next 300 days, we’ll journey to ten of those remarkable places. Our adventure begins in Saturn, the closest settlement beyond our city.”
“Three hundred days? We’ll be gone nearly a year?”
“Maybe longer. We’ll have to avoid main roads and take paths less traveled if we mean to find worlds that our city has ignored for so long.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“And what will we learn in Saturn? I’ve never even heard of it,” Kurt asked as they continued walking. Approaching the garden exit, he was torn between the excitement of adventure and the responsibilities he’d have to leave behind.
“Before Cog City, our ancestors lived just to the west. A nasty onslaught of monstrosities and beasts forced us to relocate here. Saturn is where we once thrived before our metallic revolution. Magic was at a peak there. I aim to pick up where things were left stagnant. It’s also a crucial first step to understanding distant places far removed from our norms.”
When Ellenore was but a girl, much younger, she and her father had the great displeasure of planning the layout of their house. Ell’s mother had passed only seasons before then, so the idea of moving into a new home was cold. Neither the girl nor her father had heart in the endeavor, though it marked the ending of a great chapter and the slow start of another.
“In this world, everything dwells beneath two grand umbrellas: one that stirs our souls and one that serves our needs. My father, a master of intricate machines, has found his purpose under the latter’s shelter. My mother, before she left this world, was a creature of deep emotion. She wielded her anger and love with equal grace. Since her departure, it seems Father and I have lost a part of ourselves. The connective tissue holding two bones in conjunction has deteriorated, but the bones remain, knowing they belong in place among one another. We cherish my mother’s memory dearly, but a memory fades. Still, I know she had found her place beneath her own umbrella.”
In the earlier years, before their house was up, the great inventor had become estranged from his daughter. He knew if they could not find joy in something, they would surely remain in winter. So he asked Ellenore if she could have anything in their new home, what would it be.
Ell took days to give an answer. Her thoughts were made heavy with ideas her mother might have proposed. In the end, she told her father she wanted a garden.
“The outside world peers through narrow windows, assuming I should inherit my father’s legacy. They believe I lack his practicality, that my devotion to magic is merely a nostalgic grasp for my mother’s essence. Yet, they are mistaken. Magic transcends mere emotion or utility. It encompasses both and more.”
The great inventor designed a grand garden. It encompassed the first markings of his plan of their house. He spent weeks penning pages only to toss them to flames in frustration. Nothing could satisfy his ambition. Such a simple place had to do the impossible. Save him from the ghost of his wife, free his daughter from misery, and become the heart of their new home. Weaving his ideals took a purposeful struggle. But struggle he did.
“Then your fascination?” Kurt asked as he followed the lady of the house around the manor’s garden.
“Machines, for all their purposes, are often cold, hollow things. I have spent my entire upbringing in their mechanical embrace. Though I hold fond memories, they are burdened by unyielding utility. My father, the herald of revolution, has obscured the beauty of what already exists. Must we abandon all woodwork for metal? Cast aside every clay statue for marble?” Ellenore continued on her leisure tour.
In the outdoor garden, every tree and flower stood as a testament to the precision and artistry of metalwork. Metallic blossoms swayed in the wind, their petals forged from copper and iron, with each leaf a perfect replica of nature’s own. At its creation, on first glance, the garden appeared flawless.
It was a shimmering utopia of craftsmanship.
Yet, time had its way with the metallic haven. Rust crept into the veins of iron leaves, turning them shades of deep orange and rich red. Copper flowers were tarnished into a mosaic of greens and blues, each hue adding a layer of complexity. What was once a rigid display of artificial perfection evolved into a vibrant landscape teeming with unexpected colors and textures.
The creator, Ell’s father, perhaps dismayed by the “imperfections,” might never have envisioned the garden’s true beauty. The patina of age, the oxidation, the rust—all those so-called flaws imbued the metal garden with a warmth and life that sterility could never achieve. Ironically, those touches of decay breathed soul into the garden, making it a living masterpiece of resilience and change.
“If my heart desired, I could forge metal and craft machines to rival my father’s creations. Yet, metal has never been my medium. In this overly complicated house, its presence suffocates me,” Ellenore explained and brought her stride to a halt when she and the boy found a patch of imitation Lemon Blossoms.
Ell’s voice took a moment of silence as her eyes fixated on the flowers. Kurt, at her side, if not a step behind, imagined that spot had brought a shock of disgust or disappointment to the girl’s mind, but Ellenore was taken back to a fond memory.
The day her father unveiled the metal garden, she was at first displeased by the soulless atmosphere. That was until, in absent thoughts, she tripped and fell off the path. Landing in that patch of lemon blossoms at the age of 10 and some change, her dress was cut to ribbons on the hard and jagged petals. Her hair, while she strained to stand without cutting her flesh, entangled in the metal, trapping her for moments that felt long and hopeless. But when she gave up resisting against the bind, her eyes found a cloud in the sky that seemed to comfort her agony.
Laying in bleeding distress, her heart slowed to a calm pace until she forgot her predicament. When her father eventually came to the rescue, the only way to pull her from the ground was to cut her hair and rip her garments. Ell’s father swore he would rip the garden up and replace it with something new, something better, but Ell asked him not to. She told her father, “This garden must stay.”
Though the great inventor couldn’t comprehend why his daughter had grown attached to something that would hurt her, he agreed to leave it. Even after rust and tarnish came, he never went back on his word.
“Magic, however, is a different medium, a difficult one to study. Books on the subject are scarce, offering little guidance. And so, I must leave. I must explore. If I am to master magic as my father has mastered machines. I can not afford to halt my studies. The world beckons, and I must answer. Thankfully, my father understands this, where many others fail to,” Ellenore went on and tilted her head from the ground up to the sky, where clouds took on abstract shapes.
As Ell gazed up at the sky, Kurt's eyes rested on her with unspoken admiration. Only seven days remained before their destined departure, yet Kurt had not summoned the courage to speak to his father as Ellenore had with hers. Though he held a deep belief that his father would grant him permission, the thought of disappointing the man who had given him everything gnawed at his soul.
Inside, he wept silently, torn by desires that felt selfish upon reflection but wouldn't let go. Kurt reminded himself that a hero, a knight, must possess the bravery to face the unsettling tasks that progress demanded. A hero had to find strength in the shadows of doubt.
The decision weighed heavily on his heart, but he knew the path he had to tread. Fortuitously, the papers had yet to confirm Ellenore's chosen guard. Those seven days would be his crucible, a time to forge his resolve and prepare to leave behind the family he cherished.
Kurt steeled himself for the journey ahead, knowing that every step away from his past was a step toward his destiny. The path of a hero was never easy, but it was one he was ready to walk, no matter the cost.
“So where will we go? My knowledge of what lay beyond the city is limited at best,” Kurt admitted.
“Cog City is one of five great human civilizations, but beyond the gate, entire worlds led by elms await. Over the next 300 days, we’ll journey to ten of those remarkable places. Our adventure begins in Saturn, the closest settlement beyond our city.”
“Three hundred days? We’ll be gone nearly a year?”
“Maybe longer. We’ll have to avoid main roads and take paths less traveled if we mean to find worlds that our city has ignored for so long.”
“And what will we learn in Saturn? I’ve never even heard of it,” Kurt asked as they continued walking. Approaching the garden exit, he was torn between the excitement of adventure and the responsibilities he’d have to leave behind.
“Before Cog City, our ancestors lived just to the west. A nasty onslaught of monstrosities and beasts forced us to relocate here. Saturn is where we once thrived before our metallic revolution. Magic was at a peak there. I aim to pick up where things were left stagnant. It’s also a crucial first step to understanding distant places far removed from our norms.”