Hierophant's Agdora: The Floating Island of Fire of the Arctic Circle

Chapter 3: The Origin of Life

For every life, there is a purpose, and for every purpose, there is a life. One cannot live without knowing their purpose, and there is no purpose in merely subsisting. One is directly linked to the other.

Agdora was the princess dream for Betty, something she could never even imagine. Her adaptation was quick and continuous. Betty immersed herself so deeply in Agdora that it was as if her true spirit had taken over her noble tabernacle, to such an extent that she no longer recognized herself by her birth name. It was then that the clarity of a queen emerged from the misty clouds, whose majesty was never described in words, and her new name echoed through the Island of Fire like the sound of love and purity. Maximiz was her name.

Something often misunderstood is that love has no end, but life does. At least human life; and that remains immutable to this day.

My life took on such a new meaning with Maximiz that I no longer cared to follow the human calendar, only keeping track of the progression of her age.

At the age of twenty-two, the queen gave birth to our firstborn. His name was Prímius. However, to the bitterness and sorrow of our hearts, Prímius lived only thirty-six hours of a life that should have been eternal. Thunderclouds covered Agdora, and our people endured the intense cold of the Polar Circle for the first time in centuries. The Island of Fire extinguished for exactly nine days, and during all of them, without even granting me the privilege of meals, I exhaustively and vehemently tried to bring our little one back to life. After the nine days, I found myself without the strength to look into my queen's eyes. My magic had been strong enough to create a floating island and sustain it for centuries; strong enough to bring back extinct lives, but not strong enough to reunite the soul of our little Prímius. The fauna, flora, and creatures of Agdora shed tears of consolation, but it was not enough. The Belfa-Lías sprouted flowers for each tear shed and adorned the pathway of the Alcácer, but it was not enough.

The majestic Maximiz, after the ninth day of mourning, rose full of light, despite the hollow eyes from crying, and enlightened me. Agdora burned in flames once again, and hope now shared our home. For every life, there is a purpose, and for every purpose, there is a life. We had found Maximiz's purpose in Agdora, but we had not yet discovered the purpose of Prímius' life, or death.