[Silvia]
Silvia is a charming five-year-old girl, the daughter of Nivalis Silverfrost. She has long, silver hair that seems to shimmer and sparkle in the same beautiful way as her mother's. She has a slight build and tends to be shy, a trait that comes with being a child in a world where adults can be unpredictable and dangerous. Her soft, delicate face is a striking contrast to her father's rugged and weathered one.
Height-wise, she is quite small, even for her five years, her tiny figure barely reaching her mother's waist. Silvia gives an innocent and childlike impression, which is only natural given her tender age.
But what truly sets Silvia apart from her mother, making her even more captivating, are her eyes. They are unlike any others—a rare gold shade that resembles the first rays of sunlight peeking through leaves in a forest, contrasting her mother's icy blue gaze. These eyes, which she inherited from her father, are a constant reminder of the human blood flowing through her veins.
And then there are her ears. Silvia's elven heritage is evident in her ears, which, although shorter than the full elven ones, have a slight point to them, a graceful echo of her mother's ancestry. These unique features combined make Silvia a remarkable fusion of two seemingly incompatible worlds.
Silvia's absolute favorite thing in the whole wide world was and always will be when her mother tucks her into bed and starts telling all kinds of bedtime stories. Whenever her mother's soft voice fills the room, Sylvia lies comfortably in a warm bed, her heart brimming with anticipation while the howling winds of winter rage outside her window.
In those precious moments, Silvia would drift into a world of dreams, far away from here, a world where she imagined herself as someone extraordinary. She yearned to be as important as the valiant heroes and heroines her mother spoke of in her tales. In her fantasies, she saw herself wielding a gleaming sword, wearing a brilliant suit of armor, and embarking on daring quests to save the day. Whenever she closes her eyes, her young mind gets filled with visions of facing dragons, rescuing lost kingdoms, and making a difference in the world. In her dreams, she wasn't just a regular girl, no. She was someone as important as the heroes in those stories. And someone as brave.
Her innocent dreams and boundless imagination are her escape, her sanctuary, where she can be anything and anyone she wants. She, just like her golden eyes, a ray of sunshine in a world filled with darkness and despair
...
The night had settled, and a heavy silence filled Silvia's room. The darkness enveloped Silvia like a warm blanket, yet it could not warm her body nor ease her mind.
The stars sparkled like diamonds outside the window, and the moon cast a gentle, pale glow. But all that beauty stayed trapped beyond the curtains, unable to sneak into Silvia's room. But even with the window shut tight, the crisp, freezing air somehow managed to sneak in and find its way to her, caressing her skin like a gentle whisper. She wrapped herself in a tighter blanket, trying to fall asleep.
The cozy little room where Silvia spent her nights had just a few things: a small bed with a lumpy mattress, a wooden dresser to hold her few clothes, and a plain desk made of simple wood. The walls were completely bare, without any pictures or decorations. The floor was made of sturdy wooden planks, creaking under her delicate feet when she walked.
Silvia often found her bed uncomfortable, like a bumpy sack full of potatoes, sometimes leaving her with a sore back in the mornings. Inside her room were no toys or stuffed animals to keep her company. The bare walls and the absence of artwork, which would typically adorn a child's room, left it feeling empty, unnaturally so.
Unfortunately, she also had no friends her age to play with. It seemed like nobody in the village wanted to be friends with a half-elf like her. Since the day she was born, the other children had always shunned her or called her words her mother forbade her to remember.
Silvia's life was dull and followed a monotonous routine, but she had grown used to it, having no choice but to. However, things have become even more challenging lately. Her mother had been pregnant, and her belly had grown especially big for the last several months, which meant more daily chores for the young girl. She tried her best to help her mother, but it was getting harder with each passing day. Like, really hard.
Silvia would wake up early every morning, even before sunrise. She would wear her worn-out clothes and drag her tired feet down the creaky wooden stairs. At the table, she would find her father waiting for his breakfast. Why he needed to wake up so early was something her mind couldn't figure out even to this day.
"Where's my food, girl?" he would grumble, his voice often louder than the rooster's crow, filling the otherwise silent house with his stupid demand.
Silvia would hurry to prepare her father's morning meal, her small hands working quickly to arrange the leftover bread and bits of meat on a plate. The best part was that she could sneak a little bite without her father noticing. Or spit into his food, which always felt nice. It was a small secret pleasure that brightened her otherwise dreary mornings.
Meanwhile, her mother, Nivalis, had her own morning ritual. She worked tirelessly, devoting herself to the difficult task of cleaning the entire house and washing clothes, all while having a swollen belly that was so big that Silvia probably could fit inside it. The way her pale skin stretched taut over the growing child inside was hard to look at, making her pray sometimes that she would never get pregnant.
In the soft light of one particular morning, Silvia stood next to her mother in the kitchen, helping wash the dishes. Silvia's little hands, covered in foam and soap, struggled with a particularly stubborn stain on the plate. A glimmer of curiosity danced in her eyes. She had been carrying a question inside her for a few hours, and she couldn't keep it to herself any longer. Despite that, she asked the very same question yesterday... and the day before. And the day before that.
— "Mommy," she asked, her high-pitched voice quiet, "When will my little brother or sister arrive?"
Nivalis, letting out a tired sigh, turned to her with a weary but loving smile. "Soon, sweetie, very soon," she replied, her voice gentle and soothing. This exchange had become a daily ritual for the past few months. Silvia would ask the same question, and her mother would respond with the same reassuring words.
After finishing their morning chores in the kitchen, Silvia and her mother received her father's next batch of tasks, such as fetching water from the well. Unfortunately for the girl, she had to go alone today as her mother was busy. It wasn't the first time something like this happened, so she knew what to do. She is a big girl, after all.
— "Why can't he do it himself?" Silvia often wondered aloud, making sure no one heard, her young voice tinged with a hint of frustration. With a playful imitation of her father's voice, she added, "It is because it's not a man's job!" shaking her head in disapproval, her pink tongue peeked out from her mouth. "It's not fair... Those buckets of water are heavier than me," she pouted, a frown on her cute face.
Silvia had learned to ignore these thoughts, however. She knew there was no use in complaining, so she carried on with the task despite aching in her tiny arms and legs.
The walk to the well was quite short as it was just nearby, two houses down the road. Little Silvia held the bucket's handle tightly as if afraid to lose it. Well, she did once, and her father didn't like it. She glanced around the forest's edge, half-expecting to see glowing eyes looking back at her. The tall pine trees stretched high above, casting long shadows on the ground. The rustling leaves sounded like whispers in her young, childish mind, sending a shiver down her spine.
After filling the bucket, she dragged it home, leaving a long trail on the muddy road from the well to their little house. It took her quite a while, but she completed the task, returning to her mother's side only to receive another one. However, she liked this one, as it was just sitting nearby with her mom and spending time together.
Well, not really "just sitting." Her mother had taught her how to sew, and they would sit for hours stitching clothes to sell that her father brought home from who knows where. She cherished their moments together, sharing stories and laughter as they worked. But there was one thing she hated — those sharp little needles. They were the worst thing, truly. And when Dad beats Mom, that's kinda bad, too.
However, most of the money they earned went straight to buying food and other important things. There was hardly ever any extra money left. And even if she did have some, Silvia had no way to spend it. She tried once, but everyone assumed that she stole it, pointing for some reason at her ears, making the little girl wonder how those two were related.
Her life was quite sad, to be honest, hopeless, even. Silvia knew that her father would not treat her new sibling kindly, nor would the villagers. She feared for her new little brother or, preferably, sister, but she didn't know what to do about it. The thought haunted her since the mother told her she would have to protect the baby since she would be the oldest one. But how would she protect someone if she couldn't protect herself?
Silvia could see that her mother was worried, too, probably even more than she was, even though she tried to hide it. Being a smart girl, she could see through her mother's smile and knew she was scared, too.
On top of all this, Silvia felt guilty about not being able to help her mother more. She understood that everything was much harder for her mother, especially with this round belly of hers. So, every day, Silvia tried to push herself to do more—more chores, more tasks—and it made her even more tired.
After the daily chores were finished and it was sunset, Silvia would curl up in bed with her heart heavy and her mind troubled, wondering whether tomorrow would be a little bit, a tiny amount better. She liked to stare at the ceiling for a bit, imagining herself escaping this terrible place and becoming a brave adventurer like the ones in her bedtime stories.
In her wildest dreams, she could picture herself exploring the vast wilderness, climbing mountains, and swimming in rivers. She would be free to go wherever she wanted, and she wouldn't have to worry about anyone hurting her or her mom. But the more she gazed up at the cold, unfeeling ceiling, the more she realized these dreams might never come true. She might never escape, and she would always be trapped in this terrible place.
But then she will always remember her mother's words, "If you pray hard enough, anything can happen."
A few weeks ago, when Silvia was especially tired and her mind clouded with sadness, her mother tucked her into bed, pulling the blankets up to her chin, and decided to share a story, a story about the goddess Elysia, a goddess that the Silverfrost family once served.
Elysia is one of the most beautiful goddesses out there. Her love for music was known throughout the land. She had a magical instrument, and when she played it, the melodies were so enchanting that they could chase away even the darkest clouds and bring a smile to the saddest heart. Was it a coincidence or not, but the girl's heart was sad, alright.
"You see, my little snowflake," her mother said in a soft, soothing voice that night, "Elysia was not just the goddess of music, as many think. She is much more than that. She is the keeper of hope and light, and she was the one who taught us to appreciate the beauty of life. Even though we have suffered so much, we must never forget the joy we can still find. Elysia reminds us that there is still good in the world and that we can find happiness even in the darkest places."
"It's like how stars need the dark sky to sparkle or how music needs quiet moments to sing; we can also find joy in our lives," Nivalis said, saying those wise words that the girl barely understood. Yet it still ignited a tiny spark of hope deep within her nevertheless. "So, maybe, if we pray hard enough, we will find a way out of this. Together." her mother added, her voice breaking slightly, "I'm sure our prayers will reach her, and she will hear us."
Now, as Silvia lay alone in her dimly lit room after a long day of work, those words replayed in her young mind. Silvia was a clever girl; she couldn't help but think this was just another fairytale for kids. There were no gods. Where was this goddess when her mother got a bruise on her face from her father because of a silly snowman Silvia had made?
But still, something deep inside her stirred. Even in the darkest moments, a tiny flame of hope flickered in her bright eyes. That little flame caused her hands to clasp tightly together.
She whispered a prayer, a plea, to the only goddess she knew. The little girl prayed to Elysia while looking at the dirty ceiling, silently hoping for a miracle to come their way. A quiet prayer whispered under her breath, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Please, Elysia, please hear me. We need your help.
Please, please save us. Please.
I'll do anything. Anything.
Just save us.
Mom doesn't deserve this.
We are good people.
We are good people.
Please, save us."
As tears streamed down her face, Silvia whispered the prayer repeatedly until she was too tired to do more. Silvia's heart was full of hope, but her mind was filled with doubt. She desperately waited for a sign, but nothing came; she only heard the wind whistling through the trees outside her window.
That night, Silvia's dreams were filled with the goddess. Was it a coincidence? Maybe. She could hear the weak echoes of her magical instrument, the gentle notes soothing her weary soul. She thought she even saw the goddess's face, which was so beautiful and serene. If only she were real... If only it weren't just her childish imagination...