Tales I: A Fairytale of Flames

Moonlight Flames I

The whispers of the wind carried the scent of salt and ash, a tapestry woven of grief and the promise of a new dawn. The Goddess Selene, once radiant and vibrant, now stood shrouded in an ethereal gown of moonlight, her tears shimmering like diamonds on the night breeze. Her eyes, once pools of silver, were now clouded with sorrow, reflecting the desolate landscape before her.

Selene, the goddess of the moon, had been betrayed. Her beloved, the sun god Helios, had succumbed to the allure of the mortal realm, leaving her alone to bear the weight of her love and her shattered heart. In her grief, she had unleashed a power she had never known she possessed - the power to ignite the moon's light, to weave it into flames that danced and flickered with a celestial luminescence.

Moonlight flames, they were called, a testament to Selene's unyielding sorrow. Their ethereal glow cast an otherworldly spell upon the land, painting the night sky in shades of silver and blue. Yet, they carried a chilling silence, a stark reminder of the goddess's despair.

The land, once a haven of life and prosperity, now lay barren and desolate. The moonlight flames, fueled by Selene's grief, scorched the earth, leaving behind a trail of charred forests and withered fields. The creatures of the night, once her loyal companions, fled in terror, their cries echoing through the lifeless landscape.

Selene, however, remained, her heart a hollow echo of its former self. She stood on the precipice of a crater, a monument to her broken love, the moonlight flames licking at the edges of the abyss. Her ethereal form pulsed with a faint, melancholic glow, a reflection of her inner turmoil.

The whispers of the wind carried a new sound now, a faint, melodic hum, a song of hope and renewal. It was the voice of a young maiden, a mortal named Lyra, whose heart was untouched by the goddess's sorrow. Lyra, unlike the others, was not afraid of the moonlight flames. She saw in them not a harbinger of destruction, but a beacon of beauty, a testament to the enduring power of love.

One night, Lyra ventured close to the crater, drawn by the ethereal glow of the moonlight flames. She saw Selene, her form shrouded in grief, and felt a pang of sympathy for the goddess. She was not afraid of Selene's sorrow, for she saw the pain in her eyes, the longing for a love that had been lost.

'Why do you grieve?' Lyra asked, her voice a gentle whisper against the wind.

Selene turned, her silver eyes meeting Lyra's. The young maiden's gaze held no fear, only a deep empathy that touched the goddess's heart.

'Helios is gone,' Selene whispered, her voice a fragile echo. 'He has abandoned me, and in my grief, I have brought ruin upon this land.'

Lyra shook her head. 'Helios may be gone, but your love for him still burns. Let it be a light, not a flame of destruction. Let it be a beacon of hope, not a symbol of despair.'

Selene looked at Lyra, her eyes filled with a flicker of understanding. For the first time since Helios' departure, she saw a glimmer of hope in the darkness. Lyra's words resonated deep within her, stirring a long-dormant ember of strength.

'Can you show me?' Selene asked, her voice filled with a newfound hope.

Lyra smiled. 'Follow me,' she said, her voice filled with a gentle confidence.

Lyra led Selene to a nearby grove, where a lone willow tree stood, its branches reaching towards the night sky. The moonlight flames, guided by Lyra's touch, began to dance around the tree, weaving a tapestry of light and shadow.

Selene watched in awe as the flames, once a symbol of her grief, now danced with a newfound grace, their glow illuminating the grove with a gentle, ethereal light. The willow tree, bathed in this silver glow, seemed to come alive, its leaves rustling in the night breeze as if whispering a song of hope.