Echoes of Dark Curse

1 - Light

The princess, with her gentle grace and unwavering spirit, managed to pierce the armor of the wicked prince's heart, transforming his malevolence into a beacon of love and compassion. Her touch melted the ice that encased his soul, allowing warmth and light to flood his being. As she had vowed to El, the world would once again bask in the glow of life and purity.

My father closed the book, signalling the end of the tale, but my mind buzzed with curiosity. Questions danced on the tip of my tongue, eager to be voiced.

"Why is the name of El spoken only by the Princess and not by the Prince?" I asked, clutching the covers tightly, my eyes wide with wonder as I gazed at my father. He returned my look with a tender smile, a twinkle of understanding in his eyes.

"Only those who embody light can utter the name of El," he explained softly. "The Prince, having succumbed to darkness, became a creature of the Sheol World, a realm where light dare not tread."

"Is the Sheol World filled with monsters like him?" I pressed, my imagination conjuring images of shadowy beasts lurking in the dark.

"You wouldn't want to visit such a place, my little blossom," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "The Sheol World is indeed home to many monsters, but none as fearsome as the Prince. Though he is the most formidable, the others are not far behind in their cruelty. Each creature in that forsaken realm is more dreadful than the last." With that, he placed the book on the white nightstand beside my bed, leaving me to ponder the mysteries of the story.

These were the cherished bedtime stories my father, the revered King of Thronhaven, would share with me each night. I would nestle under the covers, captivated by the tales. Sometimes, I would hear the same story over and over, yet always find something new to ponder.

"Why wasn't the princess scared of the Wicked Prince?" I asked as my father gently closed the book and placed it on the nightstand beside me.

"She was indeed terrified of him," he explained, his voice a soothing balm. "But she glimpsed a flicker of goodness within him, a fragile thread that still tethered his dark, cursed soul to our world of light." As he spoke, he leaned in to plant a rare, tender kiss on my forehead, a gesture that filled my heart with warmth.

"Was the Prince handsome?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued by the image of this enigmatic figure.

"I think that's enough questions for tonight, my little blossom," he replied with a soft chuckle. "It's time for you to sleep. As your mother always said, 'The morning is wiser than the evening.'"

"But what does that mean, Daddy?" I persisted, puzzled by the notion. "How can the morning know more than the evening?"

"That means that during the night, you have time to reflect and understand the story, which is why the morning holds more wisdom than the evening," my father explained, pausing in the large white doorway. His silhouette was framed by the soft glow of the hallway light, which seemed to dim as he prepared to leave.

"We'll talk more about it tomorrow. Goodnight, Eva. Sweet dreams, honey," he said warmly. With those words, he gently closed the door, and the light in my room extinguished as if responding to his unspoken command.

I listened as his footsteps faded down the hall, the light trailing behind him growing dimmer with each step. I turned onto my side, seeking comfort in the soft, warm embrace of my bed, but my mind continued to whirl with thoughts.

I was always mesmerized by how he seemed to control the light itself. I longed to possess such a gift, to command the flickering candle to extinguish with a mere thought. Yet, every time I tried, the flame remained stubbornly lit, defying my will. I would stare at it until my eyes watered from the effort, but my attempts were always in vain.