8.

So he crawled closer to gaze at his reflection in the rushing current; his face looked completely distorted by it. Virindia swallowed hard while carefully pondering his next words.

“I truly regret bothering you with frivolities, Mother. I know I mustn’t call unless it’s important, but my father at heart, Quinihil, lies on his deathbed, poisoned by the great Periculum and now agonizing. I beg you to enlighten me to discover the cure for his suffering, I implore you, Mother,” pleaded Virindia with a tearful voice.

“I believe I told you long ago, my son, that I do not interfere in matters of life and death occurring on my lands. I regret that I cannot help you, but if fate has chosen to end Quinihil’s long life, it is for a reason, and we must respect its wise decision,” declared Mother Earth.

“Oh, but Mother, this was not the work of fate but of the great Periculum, who delights in playing at having eternal power,” Virindia protested indignantly.

“And you dare, with your few years of life, to question the intelligence of the great Periculum? Do you truly believe there is anyone besides me who knows more than the brilliant Periculum?”

“Of course not, Mother. I am deeply sorry,” murmured Virindia.

“I thought so. As for poor Quinihil, there is only one way to end his suffering, and that is to hasten the pain—to ensure his suffering is as little as possible,” Mother Earth fell silent for a few seconds before speaking again; she had to choose her words carefully, for despite her ancientness, this was her first time truly being a mother. “I know this may be difficult, and I would not judge you for being unable to do it. As for yourself, my son, I would advise you to go for a walk, clear your mind. You know you would enjoy going to the mountain—Aurora is great company and may answer some of your questions better than I can. But you must hurry, or you may miss a great opportunity,” said Mother Earth with a hint of complicity in her voice.

Virindia believed that if he had any chance of saving his father, this was it, and he thanked his mother—but she was already gone.

The young man ran up the hill. He knew perfectly well the mountain his mother had spoken of; it was full of plants he didn’t recognize and so high it seemed to touch the sky. It was also easy to access, with a path formed naturally that allowed one to ascend without needing to climb.

Virindia took about two hours to reach the top, and he was soon mesmerized by the tones of the Northern Lights, as well as their constant and striking motion. But his attention was drawn to a girl his age with black hair and pale skin, tinted by the colors painting the sky. She had shiny, silver drawings shaped like constellations on her face, and she didn’t walk—she floated, wearing a long white dress that fluttered softly in the gentle breeze.