The Moonrun resonated with the agonizing sounds of Krurika's cries and the pain that engulfed her as she burned in the merciless flames of hell within the Arena. Neither Meer nor Mihir joined the fairies during this horrifying ordeal. Mihir desperately tried to talk to Meer, but his words fell on deaf ears. Meer barricaded himself in his chamber, forbidding even Mihir from entering.
In the end, Mihir made the heart-wrenching decision to give Meer some time, knowing that anger would eventually ebb away like the tide. With the help of the Mystic and Nature fairies, he gathered his belongings, but he refused anything that would elevate him above others.
"But you must take these," the Soul Fairy entered the chamber, cradling a small, heavy bag in her hands. "I wanted to speak with you alone," she whispered, and both fairies discreetly left the room. As she sat with him on the bed, she extended the bag of gold towards him.
"No, grandmother, I can't accept it. I won't take anything from the crown," Mihir hesitated but replied firmly.
"This is not from the crown, my dear, but from my own savings. It will help you settle down," she said, her eyes shimmering with hope.
"But I cannot..." Mihir began, only to be interrupted by the Soul Fairy's unwavering gaze.
"Please, this is the least I can do for you," her voice trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. Reluctantly, Mihir accepted the ten coins from the bag. She had intended to bargain, but one look at his determined expression silenced her. Moments later, she began sobbing and hugged him tightly. He reciprocated the embrace, understanding the depth of her love. "Please, come and visit me whenever you have time. Your old lady will be waiting for you," she said, kissing his forehead.
"I will, I promise, but only if you take care of Meer and yourself," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine concern. She nodded, her tears still glistening.
He looked at her, their hands intertwined for the first time. He gazed at her closely, noticing her beautiful, expressive eyes, which reminded him of his father's.
"May I ask you something?" he inquired unexpectedly.
"Anything," she replied, her voice quivering.
"Why did you agree to carry Mother and Father within your belly?" His question caught her off guard. He had never asked about his parents' birth, knowing that it caused her immense pain to discuss them since their passing. Yet, he felt an inexplicable need to hear the agonizing story, to understand the tale of their birth. She hesitated, her eyes moist with tears.
"It's alright if you'd rather not—" he began.
"I will tell you," the Queen Fairy's voice intervened from behind. She stood at the entrance of the chamber. Both Mihir and the Soul Fairy paid their respects, lowering their heads.
"Mihir, I will reveal the reason to you," she said with a reassuring smile, guiding him towards the window that displayed the statues of his parents.
"Mihir, everyone believes that the victory in the Battle of Duhag Ghati was solely due to Dhruveen and Tara, but that's only half of the truth," she began in a soft, reverent tone. Her gaze remained fixed on the statues before her.
"Twenty-nine years ago, a fairy named Vishalika led an army of foul powers, and other dark fairies joined her ranks, forming the Nine Foul Fairies. Even we, the First Fairies, were unable to halt their sinister advance. They plunged the world into chaos, and with each passing day, another town or realm succumbed to the darkness. They became the undefeated ones, commanding an army of deadly serpents, demons, and corrupted fairies. We sought counsel from the mighty Swan Maerys."
"Okay, Maerys suggested that the First Fairies should sacrifice a part of their power to create the Cocoons of Cosmos through fire," she continued, glancing at the Soul Fairy while gently squeezing her shoulder.
"Cocoons?" Mihir queried, his astonishment evident.
"Yes, Mihir. Every life form requires feminine energy for birth, and fire was not aligned with that. She suggested that one of us take these cocoons into our belly and give birth, just as it would happen naturally."
"But aren't First Fairies forbidden from marrying or having children?" Mihir questioned, his assumptions crumbling.
"Indeed, you are correct, Mihir. Any First Fairy who dares to defy this prohibition would endure a pain and agony unlike any other—a curse that would persist eternally. All the fairies were afraid, but then she stepped forward and embraced the responsibility. She gave birth to them, and as promised, she forfeited her wings and immortality. She was cursed, destined to never experience the joys of motherhood but instead bear only pain."
This revelation sent shivers down Mihir's spine. He had never known that she was no longer immortal or that her wings had been taken from her. He had never seen her fly, but he had also never questioned it, as fairy wings were concealed within their bodies and revealed only when needed. He looked at her, and she averted her gaze, unable to meet his eyes.
"But why did you do it when no one else would? Why did you have to endure all that pain?" he asked, his heart aching for her.
The Soul Fairy approached him, her voice gentle but resolute. "No, Mihir, we were chosen as the First Fairy for a reason. It was my responsibility. The people of Moonrun are like our children, generation after generation. We've witnessed them grow, marry, have children, and ultimately pass away. I couldn't bear to see them suffer."
"Even if that suffering meant causing yourself pain?" he questioned, admiring her selflessness.
"When you love someone, you are always willing to endure pain for their sake. That's the way the world operates, my child," she said with a warm smile.
"Do you know, Mihir," the Queen Fairy continued, "that after losing her wings, she lost her identity as a fairy? But that's precisely what made her the Soul Fairy, setting her apart from others and earning her the name Mother Fairy." She moved closer to him. "Mihir, for everyone else, the story was different. But for her, it was a story about her identity. Many others participated in the war, and that's what made them unique."
"Remember this, Mihir, when you begin your new life: don't strive to become like them, or you'll become just another local. Instead, strive to be something that makes you uniquely Mihir," the Soul Fairy advised him.
Mihir was overwhelmed by all that he had learned but nodded in response, unable to find the words to express his gratitude.
Some time later, he arrived in Greytown, determined to start anew. He changed into clothing that blended with the locals, resolving not to stand out. The Mystic Fairy accompanied him, dropping him off in town on a swan-drawn chariot.
"But they all know you, and they won't treat you any differently," she reminded him.
"The other part of Greytown has no interest in the castle or the crown. They are ordinary people, busy with their lives and work. I will live there under a new identity," he explained.
"But that area is inhabited by the poor—" she began, only to be silenced by his gaze.
"You can return to the castle; don't worry. I'll manage from here," he assured her. She flew back on the golden chariot, and he was left to face his new life.
The morning sky was clear, and the warm sunlight bathed him. He had never lived alone before, without Meer or any other fairy. Since birth, he had received everything he desired, often before even asking for it. Today, however, he had willingly cast aside these privileges, choosing a path that both thrilled and terrified him.
He picked up his black cloth bag from the ground and began walking towards the other side of town along the cobbled road. At the outset, the homes were crafted with intricate artistry, adorned with royal embellishments, and exquisitely designed. Yet, the beauty of the streets and homes gradually diminished as he ventured deeper into the town. Houses were constructed from rudimentary materials, roads were in disrepair, and there was a stark absence of greenery.
He entered a bustling street filled with shops, where people were going about their daily lives. He approached the first shop he saw, a humble store selling clothes. Behind the counter stood a middle-aged man, his appearance unkempt. His hair was disheveled, his mustache uneven, and some nose hairs protruded, mingling with his beard.
"What do you need, young one?" the man bellowed in a loud, clear voice.
"A job," Mihir responded softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.
The man scrutinized him from head to toe, his face contorted in a skeptical expression. "We barely earn enough for ourselves, and you want me to give you a job? You fool, get out of here," he spat.
"I'll do anything, sir," Mihir implored, his voice unwavering despite the man's hostility.
The man reached for a glass of water, then threw its contents at Mihir. The cold water splashed against his skin, sending an icy shock through him. Mihir's hands clenched into fists, but he took a deep breath, holding his anger at bay.
"Get out before I thrash you," the man threatened, his tone filled with venom.
Mihir left the shop in silence, feeling the weight of rejection and humiliation. He continued to search for jobs and a place to stay, but every door remained closed. He tried at a cloth shop, a restaurant, and various other remote workplaces, but success eluded him. Just as he thought, nobody knew his true identity, yet, he was reduced to being no more than a stranger, an outcast.
He eventually found himself sitting on a roadside, taking refuge under the shade of a tree. The scorching sun had already reddened his face, and he couldn't help but berate himself, thinking, Well done, now you have to spend the night on the street if you don't find anything today.
He sat there for some time, uncertain of his next move. He had nothing to eat, and although the Soul Fairy had given him some coins, he was determined not to use them. He had taken those coins out of respect, but the day he had renounced the crown, he had decided to relinquish all his privileges as well.
As the morning sun bathed the surroundings in a warm glow, birds filled the air with their cheerful melodies. Mihir, seated among the other fairies, was presented with a meal prepared by the diligent elves. They had arranged honeyballs, fruits, and salads on the table, but the young seven-year-old had a different craving.
"I don't want to eat this; I want something else," Mihir declared, his voice resolute as he sat between the Queen Fairy and the Soul Fairy.
Queen Fairy, always attentive to his desires, inquired, "What would you like to eat, my dear boy?"
With youthful enthusiasm, Mihir replied, "I want something spicy and delicious, perhaps some eggs with dragon meat." His request hung in the air, and with a simple glance, Queen Fairy ordered the elves to fulfill his culinary desire.
In a matter of moments, the table was transformed, laden with an array of delectable, spicy dishes. The centerpiece was a generous serving of dragon meat, presented by nine diligent elves. A wide grin spread across Mihir's face, his eyes sparkling with delight at the sight of the feast before him. He comes into presence from a voice behind him.
"Is everything alright?" a soft voice from behind startled him. He turned to see an elderly lady standing there, her face etched with wrinkles, her hair like threads of white silk perfectly combed. She must have been around 190 years old, with loose skin, dark circles under her eyes, and a countenance that radiated warmth.
He stood up, gazing at her. "I'm okay. I've been searching for a job and a place to stay," he replied, a charming smile on his face.
She studied him for a moment, deliberating, and then spoke, "If you're willing to work in my food court, I can offer you a job. But I won't be able to pay you much."
His smile grew wider. "I'm ready," he said, grateful for the lifeline she was offering.
"Follow me, young man," she instructed, leading him for a couple of minutes until they reached a large shop. People were lining up outside, waiting their turn. It seemed to be the biggest shop in the market, despite its simple furnishings.
"I run this shop with the help of my husband and granddaughter for the past three years," she explained, her voice polite and gentle.
A man from the shop approached them, his face sporting a crooked nose, bushy white hair, and a mustache that seemed to have a mind of its own. "Elisa, who have you brought today?" he asked, casting a scrutinizing glance at Mihir.
"Stop eyeing the boy like that; you'll scare him away," she reprimanded the man with a stern look. She then turned to Mihir. "The boy was searching for work and a place to stay, and we needed someone to assist us in managing our cosmos kitchen, so I brought him here."
The man nodded and stepped closer to Mihir. "Three meals and lodging, plus 40 coins per week," he stated firmly.
While 40 coins might not be much, it would barely allow him to purchase three pairs of shoes and some clothes. But Mihir had no other options, and they were offering him a place to stay and food to eat. "I'll take the job," he affirmed, ready to start this new chapter in his life.
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