My mother had always told me
stories about Nokthar – about why it was named that way.
According to legend, two thousand years ago, a man named Gorthar, the greatest magician to ever exist, declared himself a god.
He had slain demons said to dwell beneath
our world and built this city as a sanctuary for humanity.
He gifted people with talents – extraordinary
abilities meant to protect them.
And so, people believed in him.
They worshipped him, trusting his words without question.
But my mother saw things differently.
She told me she believed Gorthar had been controlled – not by divine power, but by one of the devils.
She said the devils had tricked him into creating this city and these so called talents – not to protect people,but to divide them.
To turn them against each other.
"And that's why we live under the system we have today,"
Mother said, her voice heavy with sadness.
Sadness for a world that isn't as great as the stories make it seem.
This story sent shivers down my spine, yet my mind refused to accept it.
I couldn't believe what my mother said—not yet.
Because deep down, I was still clinging to the belief that this world was amazing.
As we walked through the city, I watched in
awe.
People were practicing magic, their hands glowing with energy, while
hunters inspected swords, laughing and chatting like old friends.
Everyone seemed happy, full of life.
But something felt off...
The moment their eyes fell on us, their expressions changed.
The warmth in their faces faded, replaced by
cold stares.
It unsettled me. I tugged at my mother's sleeve and asked,
„Mommy why is everyone looking at us like that?"
She sighed, her grip on my
hand tightening.
„Because we are the worthless ones," she said.
„People like us – without power, without talents – we're seen as nothing more then slaves to this country."
„We can't defend ourselves, so they think we don't belong here."
Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach.
WHY?
Why do they treat us this way? We had done
nothing to them. What makes them so different from us?
And in that moment, I slowly began to believe my mother's words.
We continued walking until my mother's eyes
caught on a dress displayed in the window of a small shop.
A beautiful piece, carefully embroidered, its fabric flowing like water under the soft lantern light.
For a moment, her sadness seemed to fade, replaced by something else… longing.