Demyan sat silently in the armchair under the bookcases of his
bedroom. Leaning his forehead against the palm of his left hand. A glass
of fresh blood; still steaming was getting cold on the walnut wood
table next to him.
He looked haggard with his tired eyes shining in
the dark, hollow cheeks and frail body frame. Each year became harder
and harder for him to keep going in this stereotypical life of being
locked in this castle, going into war, killing, taking abuse and
repeating...
His thin shadow bounced in the small flames of the
candles. His mind was blank and he directly stared into the ground. He
was done with this life. Nonstop obeying his father's orders and taking
all the abuse. Under his clothes, he was hiding all those scars and
wounds from the tantrums of the King Sava.
His mother avoided him to
not get on the bad side as well. He felt empty, lost, lonely and
abandoned. The servants were always keeping their distance from him.
They feared, he would turn out to be the same tyrant as his father.
The
wind from outside picked up and was playing with the curtains, pushing
them inside. That caught Demyan's attention and looked in that
direction. A light... dancing on the floor from the window... What is
it? His curiosity took over. He stood up and slowly walked towards the
window to peek out.
From the other side of the forest, a reflection
was coming out of a small window on the far right of the bulwark. Demyan
got interested in it. Sometimes that light hit his face and the pupils
of his gray eyes got thin. It kept going on for a few seconds and then
that reflection was slowly going lower.
He panicked... he didn't
want it to stop. He ran into his bedroom and looked around. The mirror!
Demyan hit it with his fist and it shattered. He chose a big enough
piece and picked it up. While doing it, he cut his hand.
He rushed
back towards the window and began to reflect the light of the moon back
to the source of the first one. He waited... Nothing happened... he lost
it. He calmed down and turned back into his room leaving a trail of
blood behind. As he was walking towards his bed, the reflection
reappeared illuminating his silhouette.
He swiftly spun on his heel
and ran back clutching that piece of the mirror and desperately shinning
it back over the forest. He was "talking" with someone. This was
something new for him. It lifted his spirit and ever since then, almost
every night, he was exchanging these light-reflection messages with the
stranger on the other site.
The Festival of Lights was tonight.
Demyan was preparing to watch it as every year. He sat down at the
window pledge by twilight and was waiting with arms crossed. He was
leaning against the window frame and sometimes taking a peek at that
friendly stranger's window. Because of it, even his appearance improved.
First
lanterns began to fill up the sky simultaneously with those swimming
out of the sewers into the river in front of the bulwark and next into
the sea. Fireworks appeared soon after. Demyan narrowed his gaze. His
"friend" let out a lantern as well, which was slowly making its way
towards Demyan.
He was amused by it, but he knew it wouldn't make it
through the toxic, hot fumes of the Waste Lands. Nothing can fly inside
and out of it... but... As it reached the border of the forest and
Waste Land, it began to give out a little blue shine and it kept flying
towards Demyan. His heart skipped a beat. Will it reach him? His eyes
sparkled more and more, as it approached him.
He stepped aside to
let it fly inside his bedroom. His gaze followed it patiently. For the
first time ever, he saw a lantern up close. Demyan was in awe. The
floating lantern began to slowly spin and then something like fireflies
of different colors filled his room, lighting it up. They flew around
him for a few minutes and then went right up making a small, private
firework show under the ceiling.
The lantern finally descended into
his hands and lost its light. Demyan turned back towards the window and
sent back a reflection message. He was thinking, he needed to express
his gratitude. He summoned a bat and gave it an obsidian ring hiding in a
small pouch around its neck.
Demyan sent it through the little cave
system, over the forest and to the other side of it. He hoped that his
"friend" from the bulwark would accept that token as thanks and repeat
this experience next year as well. He hoped, it would become a
tradition...
This indeed became a yearly event for Demyan, who enjoyed his little secret and dreamed about seeing that festival in person... Until last year... when he had to depart for the campaign, he never missed it. He felt bad for the last year and his friend...
Demyan ran up to the window, looking out at his castle in the Waste Land. Could... she... be...? The door opened and Petrona entered her bedroom with a tray full of food. She dropped it as soon, as she saw what was lying in the palm of his hand.
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