Wehmutstau und Sturmgesang

11. Of a Golden Past

The rock was indeed alive. While San was gone to write his letter, Yeosang explained it to Morana.

This rock was animated by a magical spell, by none other than Uncle Hongjoong himself. This made him a golem, a being capable of thought and speech. It could shift its shape and walk around, but it was still young, hence it was so small.

"She's about the same age as your brother and the oldest child that came from our family. In a way, she is your big sister."

Morana looked at her big sister with big eyes. She sure was small for someone her age.

Yeosang told her some anecdotes of the past. Of Pebble stirring up confusion in the palace by disappearing constantly and about Yeosang and Jongho, her golem uncle she never met since she could think, carrying Pebble around in a basket. She was friendly and while she didn't speak, Morana felt no malice from her. She was most fascinating in her toddling into directions as if she had a mission to fulfil, only to end up in the middle of the room, staring at the ceiling.

Definitely a young thing. Morana asked to take care of her and Yeosang let her. So they wandered the halls, golem and girl, and stared at random things together while the golem learned.

San found her like that, crouched next to a fountain, while Pebble pondered a potted plant. His grin was blinding and Morana almost wanted to ask him if he had ever braided her hair, but she was too shy.

"Are you having fun?"

"It got boring after a few hours," Morana replied, not one to beat around the bush. San's chuckle praised her honesty.

"Do you want to join me? I can show you the view of the town. If we leave so soon, you won't get to see it."

Morana peered around. Her uncles were off to prepare for the trip, but surely, they would have stayed with her if San was dangerous?

No, he belonged to the family. Had the same rank as those two.

Since Morana learned courage, she nodded. She picked up Pebble so her sister wouldn't get lost and responsibly carried her along on the way to San's spot. He matched her pace and the honey of his eyes was almost too warm to bear. Torn in waves of shyness and her tenacity battling it back down, she kept glancing at the ground.

San brought her to some airy chambers, probably his own. The windows were wide open to allow in the breeze scented with spices and flowers from the many lush trees in this kingdom. Morana doubted there would ever be winter here. Every golden bush was ripe with fruit. They must nurture from the sun instead of the earth.

San held the curtains for her to step out onto the balcony. It was late enough that the sun had disappeared behind the palace yet still threw its gleaming light to dance across the white buildings of the seraphim. Grand structures with many open gates to fly through joined into neighbourhoods. People commuted through the air and travelled to the smaller nearby clouds. It was a kingdom most shimmering and shining. Perfect and bright.

Her brother would love it here.

Awed, Morana stood with Pebble in her arms, taking in the sight together. The wind here was so much warmer. Peaceful, as it caressed along the curves of her horns. Was the balmy air curious about her? Morana learned the seraphim were not fond of demons, not before or after the war. Was she fine since she had the ears of an elf?

San stood by her side with his arms angled behind his lower back. His shoulders were squared and his wings folded, painting a mesmerising picture of a warrior.

Once more, Morana found herself curious about his identity.

San listened to her voice from below. Golden hair played with the wind's games.