Hyperborea

"Once upon a time..."

"There was a young man named Fionn."

"He was the king of the Hyperboreans, a civilization that thrived in the distant north of the world, where peace and harmony reigned beneath skies of eternal frost."

"One day, during one of his habitual walks beyond the walls of his grand, crystalline castle, Fionn heard a peculiar sound—a sharp squealing that pierced the stillness of the white forest surrounding his domain."

"Startled and alert, he gripped the hilt of his regal sword and followed the noise, his boots crunching softly over snow-dusted leaves. As he pushed through the pale foliage, the source of the sound revealed itself—a girl, cornered by a thur."

"The creature was monstrous, towering over both the girl and Fionn himself. Its thick, gnarled skin was the color of ash, mottled with scars and patches of coarse, dark hair. A pair of jagged tusks jutted from its wide, snarling mouth, and its eyes glowed faintly, like embers in a dying fire. Long, sinewy arms ended in clawed hands that could snap trees like twigs, and its breath came out in ragged, steaming huffs, filling the air with a stench of decay."
"The thur growled, advancing on the girl with a lumbering gait, its massive frame causing the ground to tremble faintly beneath its weight. Every instinct in Fionn's body screamed at him to flee, but he stood firm."

"Drawing his sword in one fluid motion, the king lunged forward. With a single, decisive strike, he felled the monster, its roar silenced as it collapsed into the snow."

"-Are you all right?- Fionn asked, his voice steady but gentle as he turned toward the girl."

"But she didn't respond. She didn't even look at him."

"Fionn frowned, puzzled by her silence. Perhaps she was too shaken by the attack to speak, he thought. Yet, something else caught his attention—something even more peculiar."

"Her skin. It wasn't the pale, snowy white of the Hyperboreans. It was... pink. A soft, warm hue unlike anything he had ever seen."

"-Ehm... I know this might sound a little inappropriate, but... where are you from? You don't look like anyone from here,- Fionn ventured cautiously, hoping for a reply. But still, she said nothing."

"-Wait!- He suddenly realized, his eyes widening. -Could it be that you don't understand me?-"

"If she didn't respond because she didn't know his language, then she couldn't be from Hyperborea—or even anywhere nearby. But where else could she be from? Beyond Hyperborea, there was only the vast, unending sea... wasn't there?"

"-Could it be that she's from one of the other Nine Worl—- Fionn's thoughts were abruptly interrupted as the girl rose to her feet."

"She stepped closer to him, her movements deliberate but strange, her expression unreadable. She—Oh!"

~Ronf~

~Ronf~

~Ronf~

"Looks like Artair is already asleep..."

The mother lowered the book gently, a warm smile on her lips as she gazed at her son's peaceful face.

"He must have played a lot today. I usually read him more of the story before he falls asleep..."

Leaning over, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "Good night, my little Artair."

With a quiet sigh, she tucked the blanket around him even more snugly than before, then rose from the bedside. Extinguishing the torch that lit his room, she left, closing the door behind her with care.

In the dim stillness of the house, she paused, looking out through the small window at the darkened village. Her thoughts turned inward as she whispered to herself:

"I hope, at least, that you'll be able to live a life free from war..."