Days clouded by shadows - The short story

Chapter 3 - The Valley of Triumph

Every realm in existence had history unrelated to its elder.

In some cases, the land gave them the motivation to settle in it, or the clouds above it called them, or the town had already settled when the elder came around. Every realm had life on its own before celestials wondered in to claim it their own. Every realm except one.

The high mountains were a mountain range separating the great continent in half, covered large glaciers crushing the rock under it, creating majestic fiords at the north, the lowlands to its east, and the great cliffs at its west known as the Never-Ending Drop. The mountains were too cold, too high, or too harsh for anyone to seek permanent home in it. The few creatures to reach its ice-covered peaks experienced one of the most gorgeous sunsets before they found their demise to its freezing night.

No one dared to live there, except eventually the twins and their followers.

They were born on these mountains, which was an odd event in many regards.

You see, before there was a Golden City, or the villages on the prairies, or the Vikings sailing in the north, Dawn was on the only realm and Father was its only elder. He had casted a powerful magic making every Celestial to be born, to rain on the sand dunes in the outskirts of Dawn. That way Father alleviated the stress caused by having to travel far and wide to retrieve the new life, usually interrupting his breakfast, dinner or toilet break. Father loved consistent, and regular schedules, especially when it came to toilet breaks.

However, at some point Father's magic faltered, causing some to fall outside of Father's plans. It began shortly after a night in which the night sky became deep violet. Some thought it was Father's doing, others thought it was their star chucking a tantrum. Regardless, the twins were one of those who fell out of place.

Years after Grace "The Smith" Nebuline established her realm in the Misty Forest, Billy "The Collector" Rubrunova took his explorers to live with the roaming mantas in the plains and the prairies, Father's hourglass rumbled deep within his robes, rushing out of the library of his temple, summoning his staff to his open hand and jumping out of the balcony on the third floor of the temple, leaving a maid with a glass of oat-milk and a cheese sandwich standing at the balcony in a very confused state.

A magical bubble of greenish-purple light enveloped him, aiding him to fly to his destination, making the world below him a blur of brown, green and blue until the colours faded into greys and white.

Father landed near the tallest peak of the mountain range, on a lake that had been frozen most of the that century. He inspected his surroundings wondering the whereabouts of the child to be born, concerned about the state of the new life for the life wouldn't have that much time to enjoy under the conditions of the cold oxygen deprived mountains. Up there, the child would have moments before the heat of their flame disappeared and they crumbled into dust.

Father shoved an arm deep in his robes, looking for one of the wonderful artefacts few had seen with their eyes, an hourglass with glimmering grains floating in its top half, it told him the child hadn't arrived.

He looked up into the star filled night sky wondering where the child might be, but between the stars he saw it. A streak of light crossing the night sky in an arc ending in a large impact on the tallest peak, showering its surroundings with ice shards, a byproduct of the melted snow that solidified instantly in the air.

Father's hand trembled, the staff felt cold between his fingers telling him he had use a significant portion of his magic to get there. He tightened the grip of his staff, sending some sparks of light around his body, warming him up as he walked through the snow fields towards the peak.