Sad Moon

Prologue - 3

The white peaks rose majestically around him. The wind whispered among the rocks and radiant trees, filling the silence of the landscape with its monotonous song. Each step crunched on the treacherous path, leaving deep tracks in the pristine snow. The cold air bit at his scaly skin, and every exhaled breath turned into fleeting clouds of vapor before vanishing.

The mountains reminded him of the relentless march of time; each peak was a mark of the years that had passed. As he moved forward, his mind filled with thoughts of lost time and opportunities that would never return.

—Time is the most valuable resource we possess, yet it is also the easiest to squander. Every passing moment is a grain of sand in the hourglass of our lives, irretrievable, irreversible— he thought.

He recalled the days of his youth, when time seemed infinite and decisions less crucial. With every step, he relived memories of wasted moments, unfulfilled promises, and dreams faded with the years. The weight of those memories made his steps heavier, and he felt as though the snow beneath his feet sought to stop him.

—How much time have I wasted chasing shadows?— he wondered, annoyed, as he surveyed the vast white landscape around him. —How many times have I allowed fear or indecision to steal precious moments that will never return?—.

He stopped at a high point, where he could see the endless blanket of snow extending to the horizon. The winter sun, low in the sky, cast long golden rays over the snow, creating a glow akin to gold. But to him, that splendor only accentuated his anger.

A loud roar pulled him from his thoughts. He didn't need to turn; he knew that sound well: it was the call of a griffon. He could feel the movement of its powerful wings approaching rapidly. He knew the creature was preparing to kill him.

—Will it tear me apart with its claws or impale me with its beak? No, griffons don't waste time; it will surely maim me using the wind— he thought.

Calmly, he extended his hand forward, invoking the red mesh. He pierced through it with a calculated movement; extending his claw, he lifted his palm.

—Ardear— he said firmly. Finally, he withdrew his hand from the mesh.

A fleeting red flash illuminated the surroundings. As it faded, all the snow on the mountain evaporated into a mist that slowly dissipated. The lush trees had turned into piles of charcoal, and the rocks had transformed into gleaming obsidian.

He turned to face the powerful creature that had threatened him, but what he found was a deformed mass of charred flesh. The smell that emanated reminded him of the grand feast his family had held when he brought the corpse of a Wyrm, demonstrating that he was ready to be part of society as an adult. Melancholy took hold of him, replacing the anger he had felt.

—Snow covers the land, hiding everything beneath its cold mantle— he thought. —In the same way, time covers our lives, concealing lost moments and missed opportunities. But just like the snow, those moments and opportunities are still there, beneath the surface, waiting to be unearthed and understood—.

He knew he couldn't recover lost time, but he also understood that he still had the present, a present he could shape and seize. With renewed purpose, he adjusted his cloak and continued his journey. Each step in the snow was a reminder of the importance of living in the now, not letting more moments slip through his fingers.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with hues of pink and orange, he felt a renewed peace. The winter landscape, despite its coldness and harshness, had taught him a valuable lesson about loss and the value of time. With a strengthened spirit, he ventured further into the mountains, determined not to let more time slip away, to live each moment with the fullness he felt it deserved.