"Father, the snow is so beautiful." A tiny finger pointed at the pure white scenery outside as curious, innocent eyes stared intently at the falling snowflakes. Deldion and his brother sat on their father's lap as they urged their father to respond to the comment.
The King's tired eyes narrowed into crescents and let out a light smile. His large hands were gently placed on the two princes' backs as he spoke with a comforting, ethereal voice.
"The snow is truly beautiful. However, beneath its surfaces, lies something cruel and humbling."
Unable to comprehend his father's message, the young Deldion took one more glance at the snow-covered landscape before placing his attention on the fireplace. Orange and red flames constantly reached and retracted their light from the air. The fire's crackling sounds became unusually loud, and suddenly, Deldion's eyes opened to an unfamiliar surrounding.
'It was a dream.' The young prince thought as he located the sounds that woke him from his sleep. It was a crackling fireplace in this cozy wooden room. But the atmosphere of the new environment was not enough to stray his mind from his goal: completing his trials.
Deldion attempted to leave the bed only to find himself unable to move his limbs. Pain of thousands of scars rampaged under his skin and took away his ability to think. It was scars from all the deaths he suffered in the previous trial. The prince began to panic and tried to yell for help. This attempt for help failed as even his vocal cords felt an enormous strain that prevented Deldion from letting out even a whisper. Even breathing became an excruciating action for the prince.
With an almost unnoticeable presence, an old man entered the room. He was a man of short stature and wore thick clothes that somehow accentuated his short white beard and bald head. His eyebrows furrowed like white, bushy caterpillars, causing his narrow eyes to squint even further. With his right arm behind his back, the old man stroked his beard with his left hand as he watched Deldion quiver in pain.
Deldion, still unaware of the presence of the old man, felt rapid taps on parts of his body. Following these taps was the swift relief of the agony he felt. Blood flowed smoothly through his body as the prince panted heavily. His unfocused eyes noticed the old man who was standing on the side of the bed.
The old man let out a gentle smile. It was one of those peculiar smiles that comforted the soul of anyone who set their on and drives away all the fears and doubts a person may have. Deldion's confusion and worry dissipated as he met that smile. His eyes focused and gained a clearer view of the old man.
"You need to rest more, child,"
"Who are you?" Deldion asked.
"Me? I'm just a man who's seen too much of the world."
"Where…Where am I?" Deldion moved on to his next question as it was obvious that the old didn't want to reveal their name.
"Where? Why you're in my humble abode, a small farm in this village."
"Why are you helping me?" With that question, the old man let a nostalgic sigh and walked towards the fireplace. He hung a small metal pot over the fire and poured water into the pot. The old man then took out strange grains from a cabinet and poured them into the slow boiling water.
Deldion watched the process and waited for an answer. When it seemed clear that he was not receiving an answer, Deldion tried to lift his body from the bed. This attempt caught the attention of the old man, and Deldion realized in surprise that certain parts of his body were restrained by blood-stained bandages.
"You were buried in the snow when I found you," the old man let out a chuckle before continuing, "Good thing too, the cold prevented you from bleeding to death with those wounds."
"It must have been a hard battle for you, child." The old man's tone changed slightly as he asked a question.
Deldion, however, was confused. The way these bandages covered the wounds on his body did not coincide with where he felt pain.
'Was I given a different body again?' The prince contemplated.
"Yeah, it was a hard-won battle."Deldion thought of his second trial as he answered the old man.
The old man nodded in understanding before continuing to make his strange concoction, while Deldion laid down on the bed again and starred at the room's ceiling.
'Just what is the goal of the final trial?' Deldion questioned. The first trial was a test of endurance and will, and the second trial aimed to hone his skills and will to live. Yet there was not yet a clear direction for what Deldion needs to accomplish in this final trial.
The prince eventually decided that it might be too early to determine his goal in this trial and should focus on recovering from this body's wounds.
By this time, the old man completed his concoction and took the pot off of the fireplace, and placed it on a rectangular wooden table on the other side of the room. An abnormally rich fragrance entered Deldion's nose, causing his stomach to rumble. The old man used a large wooden spoon to scoop out a thick white liquid from the pot and pour it into two bowls. One of the bowls was given to Deldion.
Observing the steaming liquid, Deldion noticed pieces of green vegetables and broken white grains that comprised most of the strange concoction. Facing this unfamiliar meal, the prince restrained himself from eating and looked to the old man, who was sipping the concoction.
"Child," the old man said with all the seriousness in the world, "Have you never had a bowl of rice porridge before?"
"No. Is this what this strange concoction is called?"
"Strange concoction! You preposterous child! You're telling me you never had a bowl of rice porridge made for you? Actually… it quite pitiful. You've never had a bowl of porridge before." The old man's anger turned into pity.
"Anyhow, you must eat it! You will recover faster if you eat. You can repay me later."
Deldion almost smiled at the old man's unbefitting demeanor. The prince was now firm in his belief that the old man had not done anything strange to this meal. He pulled the bowl close to his mouth and drank the porridge. Perhaps it was Deldion's hunger or loneliness that made the porridge so delicious. It had no intense flavor of salt and held a mild sweetness that brightened one's mood. The rice was chewy and suitable for his tired body to eat.
Deldion felt as if this porridge filled some empty vacuum in his heart, and tears were slowly released from his eyes.
"Thank you."
The old man let out his gentle smile.
"You're welcome."