𝕳𝖆𝖙𝖊 ⚜️𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘𝖓'𝖙 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖆 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊

⚜️𝕬𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖚𝖓𝖊𝖗𝖆𝖑𝖑

Katinka raises her head to face her sister, Alana. Her lengthy hair partially conceals her face. But it doesn't stop her from crying. Tears for a parent who has passed away... Sighing, she returns her gaze to Haram, the priest who presides over the wedding. She despises traditional temple services. Their mother sits in the temple on a chair made especially for her. The gold-painted chair is ostentatious, but that's simply part of being a widow. Her two daughters sit at her feet on similar benches. Her husband is in the temple's lobby. In a box made of wood. Above their heads, an incense pot swings back and forth. The temple has a fragrance that reminds her of a crackling fire, and a lavender field. Guards form a tight line behind them to prevent the killer from returning and stabbing them in the rear. Katinka's emerald green eyes are fixed on the crease in her black gown as she listens carefully to the words of the High Priest. When Katinka's mother looks at her, she discovers that her lovely daughter is trembling on the couch. She tries everything she can to keep her cries hidden. Alana's hand is slipped into hers. Alana is her youngest child. Her reprimand. Her husband's death was all her fault! She has no explanation, but she just knows! A gentle breeze caresses Katinka's scarlet hair. Alana turns to face Katinka. Her face shows an expression of pained pride. She wished to forgive her father. He was her father, and despite everything, she cherished him. Her final words to him, however, were not loving. How is she going to make it right now? Alana returns her attention to the ceremony, hoping that it will be done soon. Katinka chews her lower lip. The orange blossoms adorn the white wooden box. Rodehanthe turns to face Alana. He'd never seen his best friend so moved. Rodehanthe turns to face his mother. Her eyes speak for themselves. She only wanted to find out who was guilty of the murder and exact her retribution. The ritual had been over for some time before mother regains strength in her legs. She carefully raises her feet and walks past the newly vaulted tomb. The clean pile of sand is adorned with white roses. Alana breathes a hushed sigh. She settles a little further into the roots of an old tree. Dad now and first grandma? Why did they wish to murder them? She stares up silently at Jaspar, who has taken a seat next to her. Jaspar is respectful of the girl's quiet. They both watch the sun till it has vanished into the mountain peaks. "You know," Jaspar begins, but then stops. "Have you ever heard of the Bermuda Triangle?" ultimately asks Jaspar. Alana simply shrugs. "Alana, we are not alone in this cosmos. There are more. Creatures that are similar to us. Humans. They are almost identical to us. They argue and argue some more. Eat and dance. They die just like us. Despite this, they are distinct. We Elves can only die in an unusual way. You name it: the knife, an accident... People die as a result of old age. They are born, they live, and they die. And they die when they are old and gray." Alana gives Jaspar a meaningful gaze. "How come I've never heard of them?" "Or why haven't I seen one?" Alana finally inquires. "They live in another part of the universe." Still on this planet. But they are completely unaware of our existence. They believe they are the only ones in the cosmos and that the earth is theirs. As selfish and dumb as that may appear. To be honest, man is the most perplexing and ignorant race in the world. They are deaf and fearful of what they do not understand. In any case, they believe they have their own world. But they have something... a place in their universe. They term it a mystery. It's known as the Bermuda Triangle. They've been trying to figure it out for years. Ha! They should understand that this is the path to our planet. They would. "You know shit their pants," Jasper exclaims. Alana beams. "Jaspar, what are you trying to say?" "Alana, people... Are illiterate. They are conceived. They live for a little time and then they die. Then they have a funeral and tell everyone what they have accomplished in their lives. And, more importantly, what not to do. And the what not to do list is usually longer. What I'm really saying Alana is that you never know how long you're going to live. I discovered this by observing individuals. But you must live in the time you have. Live your life. Don't let your life slip away. I know you're unhappy about what's happened to you. But don't be turned off by this. Your life is not yet over. And you have to live. Before it's truly over. We will not perish from old age. But it doesn't imply you'll live indefinitely, Alana. I'm not very good at describing things. "I am aware of this." Jaspar chuckles and scratches his broad brow. Alana beams. "I understand you Jasper." Jasper nods in agreement. "What do you mean people are different?" Jasper gives Alana a friendly smile. "People are illiterate. They grow up and forget the enchantment they believed in as children." Alana looks at Jaspar, perplexed. "As people grow older, they lose faith in the world's magic." They only have one belief. Money!" "Is that the same as coins?" "That's right, girl," Jaspar says with a wink. "Alana, please bear with me as I ramble. But what I truly mean is, don't let this be the end of your life. Learn and learn from it." Alana gives a nod. "I hear you Jasper." Jaspar lets out a satisfied sigh and licks his bottom lip. "Alana" sounds loudly. Alana glances around, startled. "Come in," Mother commands haughtily. Alana gives a nod. She goes away without glancing back at Jaspar. Jasper sighs and shakes his head, "That's a good girl."