Eldorïa: Legend For Told

Chapter 1: The Newborn

Before everything, there was nothing but empty darkness—a void devoid of sound and light. It was a universe of nothingness, where even the concept of existence seemed absent. The stories passed down through generations about the beginning are mere fragments, unable to truly capture the essence of those primordial moments. But let us set aside such matters, for this is not a tale of the origins. This is my story.

Now, you're probably wondering who I am, right? Well, I'm Tristan, and this is the story of my life from the very beginning until this very moment. I've experienced enough years as a human, and now I find myself waiting for that final breath to escape my lungs.

The year was 2342 of the Second Dawning. Far to the east, nestled in the shadow of the great forest, lay the small village of Fernwood. Shrouded by the snowy white mountains, the valley below was enveloped in a chilling mist. Fernwood was a humble village, modest in its size and offerings. However, its residents found contentment in the simplicity of their lives. They tended to fields of barley and wheat, reaping the rewards of their labor. As the summer arrived, so too did the deer, descending from the northern lands. Their presence brought both valuable hides and plentiful meat, providing opportunities for skilled hunters to earn gold through trade.

The wind howled through the village, carrying snowflakes that stung the bare skin like icy spikes. Silence enveloped the town, and although the sun had not yet risen, its golden rays painted the mountaintops. Suddenly, a cry shattered the stillness. Two young girls came running through the snow, their breaths heavy and their faces flushed. One of them clutched a wooden bucket, while the other, with long black hair, held pieces of white cloth stained with crimson. They hurried toward the river, their footsteps leaving shallow imprints in the snow. Emm, the smaller of the girls, had blond hair that fell just below her shoulders, and her blue eyes shimmered like a tranquil lake. She spoke with a hint of worry, „Amelia, do you think she will survive? There was so much blood. You saw it too, right?" Amelia, her hands numb and slightly blue from the icy water, gazed at Emm without uttering a word. She diligently washed the cloth pieces, their vibrant red hue fading in the frigid water. Finally, she replied, „I understand your fear, Emm. But I've witnessed more births than you, and Matilda possesses knowledge of herbs and healing. We mustn't worry. Let's quickly fetch some water and return to assist".

Emm filled her bucket with the ice-cold water, and the two girls turned around, vanishing into the swirling snowstorm like ethereal figures in the night.

ARGH! Another scream filled the small wooden cabin, cutting through the air like sharp knives. The woman on the bed was drenched in sweat, her face stained with blood, resembling a wild creature in distress. Her white nightdress had turned red with blood, soaked in a mixture of snow, sweat, and tears. Tears flowed down her chin, her eyes filled with anguish, cursing both the gods and the people around her. Her pregnant stomach ached intensely with each passing second, and new cramps and pains shot through her spine and abdomen. An elderly woman approached her, holding a cloth soaked in hot water, which she gently placed on the woman's forehead. With her other hand resting on the woman's stomach, she whispered a few words too low for anyone else to hear—a sacred blessing to the gods, imploring them to spare the woman and her child from further pain and suffering. Matilda, too, used to offer such blessings in times of need. „Where are those two girls with the fresh water and washed cloth?" Matilda thought to herself.

„I need those things immediately." Just then, the door swung open, letting in both wind and snow, extinguishing any warmth in the hut in an instant. There stood Emm and Amelia. „Emm, quickly pour the water into the pot over the fire and get it heated up. Amelia, come with me into the spare room near the kitchen," commanded Matilda, not with harshness, but with authority. The girls hastened to do as they were told, with Emm attending to the fire and water, and Amelia following Matilda into the small, dimly lit room, illuminated only by a single candle on the wall, casting a golden glow.

„Wipe the cloth on her forehead and hold her hands, Amelia. The child is coming. I can feel it in the air," said Matilda. Not long after, Amelia was at the woman's side, holding her hand and gently washing her head and forehead with the warm cloth, dipping it into new hot water from the bowl on the floor. Matilda was positioned at the woman's legs, gazing intently under her dress, and speaking words in a strange tongue that Amelia didn't understand. Suddenly, a loud crying noise filled the room, like that of a small animal. Amelia opened her mouth to ask if everything was alright, but then she noticed the woman's hand trembling uncontrollably, and her eyes wide with alarm. In a gasp, Amelia yelled, „Matilda, help! Something is wrong with her face!” Emm rushed into the room, fear evident in her eyes. Matilda handed her the newborn child and instructed her to go into the other room and hold it. With warm, soothing words, Amelia followed Emm back to the kitchen. It was a boy they could see—a beautiful boy.

Then suddenly, the woman's back arched like a bow braced for a shot, stiff and motionless. She remained in that position, and Matilda could only watch with tears in her eyes, feeling helpless. Matilda tried various healing blessings and incantations, but nothing seemed to work. The woman lay there; her back still arched, and Matilda sensed something moving near her ribs. She leaned in for a closer look, but whatever it was, it eluded her. Then, with a sharp c***k, the woman's back straightened, and she fell back on the bed lifeless, her gray eyes fixed on Matilda.

Stunned, Matilda stood there, gazing at the lifeless body of the woman. The silence in the room was interrupted only by the howling wind slamming against the shutters. Suddenly, Matilda realized that the house was now quiet, with no cries from the baby. Fearing the worst, she rushed to the kitchen, only to find the child peacefully cradled in Amelia's arms, wrapped snugly in a blanket, and gently rocked from side to side, fast asleep. Emm sat on a chair at the table, munching on some bread from earlier in the day.

„When did the child become quiet?" Matilda asked, her concern evident.

„About five minutes ago, I reckon," replied Amelia,

her gaze fixed on the sleeping baby in her arms. It was strange, Matilda thought, that the child had stopped crying around the same time his mother died in the bed. But why would her passing cause the baby to cease crying? The puzzle troubled her, and she couldn't find an answer just yet.

The next morning, small rays of light filtered through the closed shutters, casting warm beams into the small hut. The fireplace still radiated comforting heat, and glowing embers resembled red and orange diamonds. Amelia's eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the brightness. Her arm felt numb from sleeping on the floor, where she had dozed off with the baby in her arms. He was still sleeping peacefully—a sleepy boy, indeed.

„Good morning, Matilda. The sun is up, I can see. Where is Emm?" Amelia asked, stretching her stiff limbs.

„Um," Matilda replied,

engrossed in a large, ancient-looking book she had on the table. Her finger traced lines across the yellowed pages as she read.

„Matilda, are you alright?" Amelia inquired, a hint of concern in her voice.

„Oh, yes, dear. I'm just lost in these old writings," Matilda finally responded, looking up with a smile.

„Emm went out to gather firewood this morning. I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Amelia smiled back, relieved. "Alright then, I'll go find Emm and make some breakfast for when the baby wakes up. I'm quite hungry myself too."

Amelia grabbed her coat from beside the door and draped it over her shoulders before heading outside. "Maybe Emm will be at the small shack," Amelia thought to herself.

As soon as Matilda heard Amelia's footsteps slowly disappearing towards the shack through the frozen grass, her finger stopped at the page. She slowly raised her head and pushed back her chair, walking towards the fireplace where the small cocoon lay on the floor next to the warming fires. Slowly, Matilda lifted the child, still sleeping with his small eyes closed and his lungs rising and falling gently. She used her finger to carefully inspect the child, from his head down to his stomach and back, searching for any marks or signs that could explain why this child seemed to affect the air strangely.

Matilda was familiar with magic, even though she couldn't use it herself, but something about this child seemed peculiar. As far as she knew, there was no father for the child, and now, not even a mother.

„Oh, there is something just under the third rib on the left side, and a strange mark in the skin, barely visible. The color is just slightly lighter than the rest. From far away, it could be mistaken for a birthmark, nothing notable, but up close, it has a peculiar shape, almost like a star with the tips at the top missing," Matilda thought as she carefully laid the child back on the blankets.

Moments later, Amelia and Emm entered the door. Amelia carried a bunch of firewood in her arms, while Emm had some small twigs and dried grass. „Good morning, Matilda," greeted Emm with a big smile and a cheerful voice. „The weather is perfect today, and everything looks so beautiful. There's no wind through the trees, and the warmth of the sun over the village is delightful. People are already out and about, busy with their tasks," sang Amelia as she walked past Matilda towards the fireplace. She placed four large pieces of wood on the embers, and before long, the fire began to take hold, filling the hut with the sound of crackling and burning wood. Outside, a thin wisp of smoke could be seen rising from the chimney.

Emm and Amelia continued humming their tunes as they worked together to prepare breakfast. Suddenly, a soft knock echoed at the door, followed by another. Matilda called out, „Come on in, don't stay out in the cold," and the door swung open. A woman entered, bringing in a ray of sunlight and a gentle breeze. She greeted Matilda, expressing her hopes that the birth had gone well, and mentioned that some of the villagers had prayed for them during the night. However, her demeanor turned somber as she inquired about her daughter, Emm.

„Good morning, Eliza. Sadly, the birth did not go well," Matilda replied with a heavy heart. „We will need the men to build and prepare a funeral pyre. As for Emm, she is humming happily in the kitchen with Amelia, getting breakfast ready."

Eliza's eyes filled with sorrow upon hearing the news of the pregnant woman's passing, even though she didn't know her personally. The woman had arrived in the village some months ago, pregnant and in pain, but no one knew much about her.

As Eliza stood by the door, talking to Matilda and shaking her cloak that was around her shoulders, Emm cheerfully greeted her, „Hi Mom, good morning. Do you want to eat with us?" Eliza declined the offer, explaining that she came looking for her because her father and brothers need her help at the riverbed. Emm's face fell, not wanting to leave, but Amelia reassured her, „But, dear Emm, I'll see you later. Go help your father and brothers, and once I'm done here, and you are finished, we can head to the barley fields and see if we can spot some animal footprints on the large open fields or maybe play in the new fallen snow."

A big smile returned to Emm's face, and she rushed out the door after her mother, her small blue cloak waving as she said goodbye to Matilda. As they left, Matilda closed the door behind them and returned to Amelia to help her finish the breakfast. The aroma of the hearty meal filled the room, and Matilda felt a sense of comfort, despite the sadness that lingered in the air.