Five days had passed since he arrived at the tree, and the unsealed boy found himself hesitating to venture back into the forest and revisit his familiar retreat at the Southern Hills. His grandmother had remained silent during these days, but her growing concern for his mental state was palpable. Enough was enough. He had faltered at the first challenge. Tonight, he resolved to seek the exit. Thus began the sixth day.
[Approximately an hour before dawn]
Darkness enveloped the world, and a cold breeze whispered through the leaves, carrying the freshness of the night air. The stars and the moon cast their watchful gaze over the lesser world below. The boy awoke, standing in front of the open creaking wooden door behind him. He stared into the darkness, his bright eyes sparkling with excitement as he pondered what he might discover in the hills he had missed all these years and what experiences awaited him beyond the world's gate.
As was his custom, he wrapped a white scarf around his face, closed the door behind him, savored the last breath of the cool breeze, and set off toward the old ruins atop the Southern Hills, this time for a different purpose. You might wonder why he always covered his face—perhaps for the sake of drama, to shield himself from the biting cold air while he ran, or simply a habit inherited from someone else.
After a brief moment of running, he arrived at the site before dawn, standing before the nearly ruined ancient building. He searched for a suitable spot to mark the exit. He had grown familiar with this place, having visited it daily, particularly after forming a bond with the enigmatic beggar. Initially, he had not recognized the ruins, as they were obscured by the dense forest of the hills, but the stranger was well aware of their existence. He had evidently lived there for some time before departing once more.
–
One day, as they sat together, the vagabond regaled him with tales of the seven kingdoms and a powerful king of ancient times who had united all lands, ruling the world with unmatched justice and strength. This emperor was renowned for his vast knowledge, mastering every language and deciphering even the most ancient tongues.
However, following his mysterious death, the greed of his nobles corrupted the throne, fracturing it into seven kingdoms and numerously lost lands. While some rulers were virtuous, the majority fell into corruption. Countless lives were lost in the bloodshed that the great emperor had sought to prevent. Ultimately, humanity's nature leaned closer to that of devils than sacred angels, and the virtuous few were stripped of their rights to the throne in their bid to halt the rivers of blood.
Sadly, the river is still flowing.
"You will witness a beautiful, magical world beyond these trees, built by the great emperor, but know that it is tainted by crimson blood," the vagabond had warned.
—
[Back to the present]
Glida started his search for the exit gate, but nothing revealed itself. He opened every door, some so ancient they nearly crumbled at his touch, yet nothing transpired.
As the early morning sun began to rise, one of the doors he had opened led him into a vast garden, bursting with colorful flowers that appeared to smile at the sky. He had never known such a place existed here. After all, this building was immense and steeped in mystery, yet he had never recognized the value of uncovering its secrets.
"The sun is fully risen, and I've found nothing. Nada. Walou." he murmured to himself, feeling the weariness settle upon him after exploring every door and level.
He lay down upon the enchanting flower field, attempting to recall the words of the dark guardian, but nothing distinct came to his drowsy mind. Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, for he had not slept the previous night, gripped by excitement and fear.
—
The next day, Glida found himself slumped at his usual lookout, perched atop the crumbling stone ruins. His favorite spot gave him a sweeping view of the world, the stars fading into a pale sky as dawn crept over the horizon. "Maybe I missed something yesterday…" he murmured, his breath forming faint clouds in the crisp morning air. His bright eyes scanned every dark corner, every shadowed nook.
An hour passed, and the first tendrils of sunlight lit the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ruins. Still, nothing. 'Did he lie to me?' Glida shivered, recalling the cryptic words of the Dark Guardian. 'No… I don't think so'. But frustration boiled within him. This was the third time he'd been here, the third dawn that had come and gone with no sign of an exit.
"You said I'd find the door here!" he yelled, grabbing at his hair in sheer frustration. "How am I supposed to know where to look if you don't tell me anything?" Standing before the large, open gate, he tried imitating the Guardian's deep voice. [You will find what you seek in the ruins to the north] he intoned mockingly. "Or what he said. Well, here I am! And still—nothing!"
Days blurred together in a maddening cycle of searching and coming up empty. How much passed ? We lost counting after all.
One dawn when his limits broke up, his shout of frustration echoed across the hills, filled with every ounce of his pent-up anger. "You useless, floating, shadowy… whatever you are!" he shouted. "I'm the fool for believing in a fake shadow's lies !"
As he kicked at the cold earth in anger, a raspy, hollow voice drifted through the air behind him, like the scratch of stone on stone. "I can confirm that you are, indeed, quite foolish."
Silence. Glida froze. Did I really just hear…? He spun around, searching, but there was no one. His heart pounded as he shook his head. "I'm losing it…I keep hearing weird voices these days."
"You're not crazy." The same voice replied, sending a chill down his spine "Yet".
He glanced up—and his jaw dropped. Perched gracefully atop a high stone was a pure white owl, its amber eyes glowing with a quiet, ancient wisdom. "I've watched you every morning as you come here, child," the owl intoned, its voice deep and deliberate. "You are truly the most hopeless creature in this entire forest."
For a long, breathless moment, Glida stared, too stunned to react. Then, all at once, he screamed, "A-AAAaaaahhh! A talking owl!" another look "AA-AAHHHH, I'm officially crazy! Please I'm still a child for going mad."
The owl blinked slowly, as it descended with silent wings, landing gracefully on a fallen stone wall nearby. "It is not your mind that's broken, but your heart," it said, its voice echoing through the ruins like the sound of wind brushing through leaves. "How could you be so foolish as to think the exit would open if you do not truly desire it?"
Glida squeezed his eyes shut and pinched his cheek. "No, no way. This isn't happening…" He opened his eyes, and the owl was still there, studying him with those calm, knowing eyes.
"Greetings," the owl said with an air of exasperation. "I speak to you through the beats of your heart, though I must strain mine to reach you," it continued, tilting its head slightly. Glida's legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. "This is absurd. Next, the tree's going to invite me to dinner or something." He muttered, looking away in disbelief.
"Oh, spare me your sarcasm," the owl said, its feathers rustling in irritation. "I couldn't endure your stupidity any longer, so here I am—to set your foolishness out of here, though you amaze me sometimes with your pure heart."
"Oh, how gracious of you," Glida muttered, rolling his eyes. "But as you see, there's no exit here. I've looked everywhere ?"
The owl sighed. "That's because your heart is still tethered to those you leave behind. The gate will not open until you are free." Its amber eyes narrowed as it continued.
Then suddenly the deep voice snapped angrily, "And you stupid imbecile—how could you ignore her?! The mother deer, waiting at the village entrance every single morning, calling for you. Every. Single. Morning." The owl's voice seethed, a barely restrained fury vibrating through each word. "How could you be so utterly blind to her calls?!"
Glida's mouth fell open, shock written across his face as a pang of guilt twisted in his chest. His hands clenched, fingers digging into his palms as he absorbed the owl's words.
The owl's intense gaze softened, just a fraction. "The entire herd... they postponed their journey just so she could give you a final farewell. And you—" the owl's voice softened even further, almost whispering, "You left her waiting."
Glida could only stare, rooted to the spot.
Angrily the owl continued "Go, what are you still doing" turning its head calmly at it detected a prey in the shadows "Say your goodbyes, and free your heart. Only then will you get the ticket to the other side. And perhaps, just perhaps, the gate will open for you."
For a moment, Glida was silent, absorbing the owl's words. Then, as if breaking from a spell, he shot to his feet and dashed towards the village, his heart pounding with regret. Mother Deer… I'm so sorry…
He ran and ran, the chilly morning air biting at his cheeks as tears streamed down his face. Finally, he reached the edge of the village and there she was—the mother deer, waiting for him with her gentle, soulful gaze and warm antlers. His voice trembled as he knelt before her, the weight of regret heavy in his heart.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his breath hitching. "Thank you."
He wrapped his arms around her neck, pulling her close in a warm embrace. In that moment, he felt her breath mingle with his, their heartbeats syncing in a rhythm of shared understanding. The world around them faded, leaving only the quiet bond between a boy and the creature he had long neglected though not forgot.
—
Love Story
—
As he released her, a warm glow spread through him, a quiet peace settling in his heart. She turned toward the forest and joined the pack to resume their journey, vanishing gracefully into the trees. Glida watched them disappear, a bittersweet smile on his face, before turning back to the village for one final visit, where his grandmother awaited him.
Another hard goodbye awaits him. His heart, still tethered to the bonds of love that refuse to fade.
That night, they gathered around the table for what felt like a precious eternity. The familiar aroma of home-cooked dishes wrapped around them like an old friend's embrace, while laughter danced with their shared stories and whispered secrets. Each word, each glance, each moment bound them closer, as if trying to forge memories strong enough to span the coming distance. As the last morsels faded from their plates, she drew him into her trembling arms, her eyes a mirror of fierce pride swimming in barely contained tears.
"My dear one," she breathed, her voice as delicate as autumn leaves in the wind, "you have your path to follow, and though my heart aches to keep you close, I've no right to chain your dreams with my selfish desires." Her voice carried the weight of a mother's love and sorrow intertwined, while tears quivered at the brink of falling, catching the lamplight like precious gems.
"I'll carry you in my heart, always," he whispered back, his own voice thick with emotion as they shared one final, desperate embrace. The warmth of her love enveloped him like a protective cloak - a final gift of safety before he stepped into the waiting world.
–
As dawn approached for another day, Glida stood in the darkness before the ruins for the last time -hopefully-, the old wooden gate in its deep center groaning opens at a light push of his hands. Beyond it, a field of beautiful wildflowers stretched before him, the galactic sky can be seen from the mostly fallen ceiling.
Curiosity has sparked wars, love stories, science discoveries and rarely written grand adventures. Sometimes it leads to destruction and ashes, other times to joy and fulfillment. It is a risk one must take to gain its rewards. Love, though a bond hard to break, is never as wild as the yearning for freedom, which often requires chains to be broken before it can truly be embraced. Grandma's presence remains in his heart, eternal and unshakable, but the fire within him still burns, yearning to be quenched.
He stepped forward, a dagger hanging at his side and a leather backpack strapped securely on his back, specially prepared for the journey ahead. He wore a dark robe with teal and orange accents layered over loose pants and red, slipper-like shoes. A burnt-orange cloak draped over his shoulders, while his familiar white scarf—still unchanged—wrapped snugly around his neck. His beautiful dark hair cascaded down his back in a fishtail braid, carefully woven by his loving grandmother, a gesture that carried a piece of home with him into the unknown.
—
[Another free bird flutters its wings] a voice spoke to the cold night.