I want to remember them the way before they were gone. I want to taste the sunshine touching the snow. I want to carve the canvas with places that once were magnificent and fused with hope. I want to create a world where the best of us could live forever, so I named it Isle, and Isle was its name. It stood at the edge of the world, where all roads ended.  

Once upon a time, a lonely island stood in the middle of a storm, where the endless snow and thickening ice would be the forever scene. It was claimed to be the end of the world, hidden in the shadow where no man could ever reach from the other side, and therefore, there were sculptures of lonesome and courageous men who came seeking for the truth, yet their faces remained buried in the cruel storm and endless snow. 

It was the last place where magic existed before it all burned into ashes, and there again, life found another way, and so was the trace of magic, but that would be the story for another time.  

The forgotten land had a name of its own; it was called Isle, the mistress of chaos. No one truly knew where it came from, but it was marked onto the landscape as ten mountains uniquely formed.  

At sundown, elders in our tribe would gaze at the mountains, place their hands on the forehead, and pray to the sacred land of Isle that birthed us all. They’d face the blurry horizon, formed by the snowstorm and kneel with the purest heart, they’d thank for its protection from the vicious world outside, but to the rest of us, who were tired of the gloomy sky and endless snow, Isle was cursed by the spiteful gods.  

“We’re trapped in here, Rio. There’s nothing sacred about it.”  

My brother Vielle said it to me one day. He was lying on the ground, chewing a strand of grass with arms under his head, while watching Lama, the wisdom keeper of our tribe, leading a group of elders and young to pray to the mountains and the storm at dusk.  

I turned around to look at him, but his face was so hard to see under the dimming sky.  

I was four, and he was six. I was chasing wind fairies from tree to tree. They flapped their wings and giggled, cleverly escaping my hands.  

I distinctively remembered that day because it was the first time I ever caught a flying wind fairy with translucent wings and shiny magic dust, but it flew away as soon as I turned my head at Vielle, who said the saddest thing I have ever heard.  

“I just lost a wind fairy because of you!” I blamed it on my brother, who was laughing in the dark.  

“It took me an entire day to catch one, and I didn’t even get to tickle it1” I stamped my feet and looked away, for I was mad that I might never get to catch another. 

“Don’t be mad, Rio. I’ll get you a dozen if you’d like.” 

“It won’t be the same,” I mumbled and held my arm, but Vielle sat up and looked at me with glistening eyes, “do you want to hear the story of the Graveyard?’ 

He tempted me with dancing flames on his fingers, painting the faces of shadows in the storm. We called that place Graveyard because it was nothing there but death and tombstones. 

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The sky has become entirely dark. I saw the lights turned on in our tents from afar. Between the trees, owls were out with their sparkly eyes. I heard the subtle crisp sound of snowflakes touching the ground.  

I nodded and came to sit right next to him so that the night would become less frightening, and there, under the stars, Vielle told me about the Graveyard. 

“There are hundreds and thousands of sorcerers in the Graveyard,” he waved his hands with a dramatic voice. The fires on his fingertips left a shadow right in the middle of his face, “the bravest, the youngest, the wisest men. Some of them were the most powerful sorcerers ever been born, but they were turned to ice,” he paused for dramatic effects. Suddenly, his voice raised, “some were crawling on the ground! Some were tearing their eyes off! Some were screaming! And some didn’t even have limbs!” My brother was jumping up and down, gesturing those difficult postures, and then all of a sudden, he became reticent.  

“The terror on their faces remained their last look while their arms were still reaching further to the other side, but Isle, the mistress of chaos, was undefeatable. She couldn’t stand their heartless betrayal, so trapped them in the storm, till the end of time,” he whispered and concluded with a ghostly gesture, while the flame on his fingertips dimmed and turned to a dying strand of smoke.  

A blow of wind passed through my body, and I shivered. I had chills on the back of my neck. Vielle looked at me and burst into laughter while I tried to shake off the scariness from his story. I did have to admit that my brother was a brilliant storyteller, especially when it came to horror stories at night.  

Wind fairy flew back to me and gave me a kiss on the forehead, “don’t be scared.”  

I heard it whispered to me. 

“But how do you know the look on their face? And how do you know they are sorcerers but not the vicious creatures from the other world?” I was curious.  

“Well…if you don’t believe me, you could go into the storm and see.” 

“What if Isle turns me into ice?” 

“That’s bad luck then,” he sounded careless and laughed, “you need to stop asking questions, Rio. You’re taking all the fun away,” he patted on my shoulder and walked towards our tent. 

I saw a speck of mischief in his eyes again as he captured the wind fairy who was trying to rest on his shoulder, “gotcha,” he looked at the poor little creature and tickled its belly, and then he turned to me, “here, take this. I owe you one.” 

I took the fairy and touched its soft little wings. It stared at me with terrifying eyes. I was going to play with it just like all the other kids did, but I let it go instead. 

“Thank you for setting me free. You’re a good sorcerer, Rio,” it blinked at me with sparkling eyes and sprayed a speck of magic dust over my head, “with my blessings!”  

It turned away to catch its friends.  

I felt happy again.  

Vielle was still gazing at the storm from far away. We were too far to see the shadows, but even standing right here, between the trees, flowers, and owls, we could feel its deathly breath and mysterious wind. 

“That place is scarily haunted!” 

I followed Vielle back home while two wind fairies rested on my shoulder, and one sat on the top of my head.  

“Don’t listen to him,” one of them said, “it’s just a storm.” 

“But what’s on the other side?” 

They shrugged and shook their head. 

That night, I had a dream. I dreamed of the creatures who came to Isle from another world. They looked like trees and had scars on their faces, but they were just like us, small and scared. They were world travelers, seeking answers, but a white shadow cast a spell and turned them into ice somewhere in the storm. Her figure looked somehow familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I’d seen her or see her face, and then I saw the other world. It was Isle without snow or ice. Instead, the bleak sun, woods, and sands. As if a surreal and strange dream, it was a world of silence.