Eyndor sat in the tall, arched window of his chamber, his gaze fixed on the distance horizon where the gold sun sank behind the amber- tinted spire of Solaryn' s capital. His pale hands clutched a delicate, won necklace, its chain glinting faintly in the dying light. Dangling from it was a small pendant, a golden locket – its surface etched with an image of a woman she was beautiful, her features soft yet fierce, the kind of beauty that clung to memory and time, even though the vile of distance.
Her hair was long and silvery-blue, cascading like a waterfall beneath the gentle light of a twilight sky. Her eyes, a piercing shade of sapphire, glimmered in the 's locket's engraved likeness, and grace. This was his mother.
He traced the edge of the pendant with his finger as if trying to pull her essence closer to hi, as though it could answer the questions that lingered at the back of his mind.
"I remember the night by the fire, "he whispered, his voice low, rough, yet tender. His words felt fragile in the air, like they could shatter with the wind. "The stories you told me about magic and destiny, the way your laughter would dance in the flames."
Eyndor closed his eyes, and the memories came rushing back a kaleidoscope of half-forgotten sounds and scents. Her hands on his small shoulders, iteaching him how to shape the light with whisper. The smell of lavender and old parchment from her stud, the warmth of her presence in a cold world. She had always been something far simpler: a mother. A constant, tender force, always there.
But all of that was gone.
The sound of wind whistling against the window brought him back to the present. His hair dyed silver and gray to hide the shimmering blue that set him apart moved slightly in the breeze. His silver eyes hidden with a curse to hide his golden eyes, b
ut still the most beautiful in all the kingdom, one of the things that will entice him in the future is his beauty. His gaze staring down at the necklace again, his vision clouded. Memories clung to hi, as if the very air were saturated with them.
He could hear her voice. "Always remember, Eyndor, even when the path feels dark, you carry more strength than you know. Magic is a gift, bit your heart will always guide you."
Those words. He had played them thousands of times, yet they felt sharper now, more relevant, as though they were alive, etched into his bones.
Eyndor leaned his forehead against the cool glass, his voice trembling as he whispered the question he'd always held in the depths of his soul: "Why did you leave me?"
The sun had vanished completely now, and the sky was deep, inky-like blue, stars slowly piercing the dark veil like faint diamonds. The wind tugged at his silver-grey hair, and for a moment, he could feel the ghost of her touch.
it would be many years before he would come to understand the truth of his origins, the depths of his destiny, and the burden of his gifts. For now, he watched the stars, and began to trace the echoes of his past, a journey that would lead him far beyond the palace walls and the golden spires of solaryn.
The weight of memory lingered. But memory, for all its beauty, was also a prison.