Prophecy

I wish to tell you a story I once heard. It is of love and youth, of magic and dreams that can come true. Some say it never happened, but I believe it did, one way or another. Even if it was just a wish never fulfilled, deep in someone's heart all what I tell you is as real as light captured in a diamond. You can see it and feel it, but you can never have it. This is what I believe.

The story begins in a kingdom far to the sunrise. Further on, there were only woods, so deep that none had ever been to the other side, and so dark that even when the sun was at its highest, trees covered the sky as if it were a moonless night. Maybe this was where now are the lands of Province. But again, the forest must have been closer in the days past and men lived elsewhere. Could be, could be.

Now the kingdom had its king and its queen, and they were loved by the common folk and the nobles alike for they were just and fair. And when there was reason to be angry or harsh, they were angry and harsh with all the power of a true ruler. So it was that the land prospered and while not everyone was rich and lived in a house of gold, none had to starve and could earn their living with honest work.

Of course, what is a king and a kingdom when there is no heir? Luckily the royal family was not without children and maybe it is fair to say that when everyone respected the king and adored the queen, their heart was with the young prince. He was a child long expected and in turn much loved by all. For the king he was the son to succeed him one day and carry on his work, giving him a few, with the blessing of the heavens even more than that, years to rest from the burden one lays on his shoulder when the golden crown is placed on his head. For everyone else, he was an assurance. Every peasant knows that kings come and go as the clouds pass in the sky, but life is forever. One day you grow old and pass it on, for the spirit is carried from parents to children, who in turn someday see grey in their hair and step aside for their final years. Nevertheless, it is good to know that the sons and daughters you have raised will live in a world as peaceful as you did.

I have not said a word about the queen and I don't have to for I yet have to see a mother who doesn't love her child whom she has carried and given birth to. She loved her son like she loved the air she breathed - she could never have lived without them.

Yes, well, there of course were days when things went wrong and there was darkness within the souls of men, but those days were few and on the whole I have not told you a lie when I said the kingdom to the sunrise was a land of happiness.

As it always is, there are those that can never stand when a fellow man is doing better than he is. And when it comes to this, the nobles are no different from the rest of us. There were neighbors to our prospering kingdom, and they had rulers of their own. Some of them came together and decided to take by force which they did not have. They raised an army of thousands of men, and crossed the border.

Bad news travel fast. Some say that the ravens carry them in the night and whisper in our ears when we sleep. Well, some say. In truth, the ravens rarely leave the fields of war, where food is a plenty, mind me saying. But some way or another the news reached our king even before the enemy had started moving. You can imagine his grief when he heard his friends have turned against him, and the anger that rose in him. He called to arms every man of age and assembled an army never seen before. The soldiers wore armor that glittered in the sunlight like fire. The banners flapped in the breeze, as they marched against the enemy. And in front of them was the king, riding on a war horse the color of freshly fallen snow. They started moving in the early hours of the day and it was not until the sun was going down behind the mountains, that the last men left the city. That big was the army.

The queen was left alone with her son and the servants. The days that followed brought her much tears, no matter how the battles went. When we are proud, seeing our soldiers ride into battle and charge the enemy like a hawk suddenly folds its wings and dives for its prey, the women only see the swords of the enemy, that point to the hearts of their loved ones. This is why the queen was silent and sad, like was every mother, lover and sister in the kingdom. The prince, well he had just learned which end of the sword goes in the hand, and was disappointed and angry of having to stay home. So he secretly dreamt of running away and joining his father in the battle. It was definitely her mothers fault, he was left behind, there was no doubt about it. And his father, the king, would welcome him and they would ride into battle side by side. This is how he must have thought, but who can tell. At least most young boys do, princes or not. It is often that when you want something with all your heart, it stays away from you, and when you least want it, it comes at you from every door and every window. And war, war is the worst of them all. I know what it is, but however I describe it, you will still take your wooden sticks and dream of being gallant knights in shiny armor. But that is the way things have to be, I guess.

Now back to the story, where was I? Oh yes, the king rode into battle. I could say that he crushed his enemies and was home before the week was over, but no, it did not go that easy. This is a true story after all, and the good kings do not always win the battles. Luckily this one did. But not within the week or month. The war lasted for several years, scourging the land like plague, leaving bloody scars wherever the fighting took place. Still, after months of rain and sun, the king finally drove the conquerors back, and rode home. It was in an afternoon in late fall that he finally returned to his castle, with the few men alive, and the sun shone on them like a cold and distant memory.

Oh yes, there were tears of joy and great feasts, but it was not for a long time that the darkness that had fallen on the land, began to scatter. When you have lived in fear and pain for years, it will take as long for things to settle back like they were. Actually they never will, for too many people have died and too many families are left homeless. But hey, life goes on, and new babies are born and new houses are built.

Now is the time when the real story begins, for if you haven't guessed it yet, the story is of the young prince, and all I have told you so far are just pieces from his childhood. But this is the moment when his childhood ends and he becomes of age - when the king came home after the war, he soon gave the kingdom to his son to enjoy the twilight of his life beside his wife. The young king had plenty of councillors, picked by his father, and when things grew tense, he could always ask his parents and they would give him advice. Not that he needed much. Despite his young age, he was worthy of his title and soon earned the trust of his subjects just like his father had.

Years went by like swallows, some faster, some slower. Some brought happiness and sunshine, some came with pain and storms. Nevertheless, life was good. On a calm morning in late winter, the parents of our king passed away. They were found in the bed, eyes closed, a quiet smile on their faces. The Light that shines on all of us, blessed be it, had taken their hearts. But the king was silent and mourned, and sometimes tears were seen in his eyes.

More years passed and memories faded as children were born bringing new memories to this world. And the king looked upon his lands and was happy. Until one day.

He woke up and knew that he was sad to the depths of his heart. There was an emptiness to the world that he had never felt before. Something within him cried out with a voice of thunder, and yet he could hear nothing. Only the pain as his soul was torn apart. He had liked the sunrise before but now he could not bear to see it, the beauty of it was more than he could hold. The sky, the wind, everything went straight through him like an arrow, and hurt. In the night he saw dreams that made him cry when he woke, not even remembering, what it was, he saw. There was a fever to the world that burned within him and it only grew worse with days. In the evenings he stood at the window and followed the sun until it set, everything in him screaming out and yet silent.

After a week he decided he could live like this no more and went to his trusted councillor in the matters of the world - an old astrologer who knew both the wisdom of the ancient runes and the eternal hemispheres of the sky. He had helped the king's father once and had seldom been wrong.

In halting words, the king told the old man what he felt, and asked for his advice.
"I know what troubles you my lord",said the astrologer. "I believe to know, at least. I believe you have come to the question that all of us will ask ourselves one day. It is the question about the essence of reality, the thin fabric that holds all together. You have become to wonder, how is it, that while you feel pain, another laughs, and while the sun shines on your castle, thunder and lightning fall on other places. You wonder how people feel and how trees grow. And most of all, you are desperate to know if this is all you see - the logical structures around you, I mean. Or is there something else that guides the logic, and defies it at the same time. Who knows, why you are sad, and why you are happy, to who, all the strings of reality come together to. And not knowing, it brings the pain that my noble lord told me of. It is the pain that a man feels when he is locked away in darkness, for knowledge is like Light - it shows you things you wouldn't see without. This is what hurts you, my lord."
"I don't know,answered the king. it might be."
"Then, my king, please take my advice. You ask the same question I seek answer to. I have read all the old manuscripts and I have followed the stars, and I am sure that one day I will find the answer. If only I have time, I will. If what you seek is an answer to this question, I bid you to look with your own eyes in the books of wisdom and in the heavenly circles. What I have missed, you could find, and then put your heart at rest. For who knows what the present is about will never have to fear the future."

So the king spent his days in the laboratories and libraries of the astrologer, carefully reading what others had said before him. He discovered a world he had never known to exist. The silent books suddenly spoke to him. Some whispered, some laughed, some screamed in agony. They all had their own stories. He learned of empires that had fallen to dust, and of those that will be built in a thousand years. He learned how people have lived and how they have died.

He spent the nights mapping the astral messengers, deciphering the hidden meanings of constellations, plotting lines and symbols of divination. He found out how the past glides into future and how future again becomes past. How the world turns in circles, how nothing is ever lost and nothing is ever new.

But what he learned most, was that none had the answer. No one could tell him the reason of his sadness.

So one evening, when he watched the sun going down again, he decided that he had to leave his castle and his kingdom. Something out there had to know, someone out there. He wasted no time, and rode out the same evening, without company, into the darkness of the night.

For many months he traveled. He had long ago crossed to borders of his kingdom. The people he met were strange and spoke languages he did not comprehend. But at the same time, they had the same tears, and same smiles. So he turned away from the houses of men and went into the woods, were the elves dwelt. At that time, the elves were not at war with humans, and although they were suspicious of any stranger, they never refused hospitality.

So the king rode to the woods to find out, if the elven folk knew the source of his sadness. He was welcomed and when he asked the elders for their wisdom, they told him:
"The sorrow you feel, is known to our people as it is to yours. The longing is what we call it. It lives inside you. It is yours. No other has your longing and no other can hear it. Some of us say it is what you must value most. If it is gone, then also are gone the songs and the dances that live inside you.
Do what we do, when we feel the longing. Listen to yourself. Then listen to the wind and the streams. And soon you will see that they too, are sad with you. Then listen to the stars and the sun, and hear them cry. And then come to us again, and sing to us of the things you heard, of the sorrow. And we will sing you what we have heard."

So the king went and lived alone for weeks, and felt the sadness inside. And as the elves had said, he could hear it echo in everything around him. It was in the rain and in the streams. In the wind that passed trough the trees, and in sun that crossed the sky. It echoed back in a thousand voices and from the voices rose a song that spoke of it all. The king went back to the elves and sang it to them, and they sang their songs, and the king suddenly felt light at heart, as if a burden was lifted, that he had carried with him all the days. He was happy again, and danced and drank wine and listened to the stories of the elves, and told the stories his nurse had told him, when he was little.

He stayed with the elves for many days, and not only did he sing and dance, but he learned of their ways and their lives. Until one day.

He woke up and as many months before, his heart was filled with sorrow, and his cheeks were wet with tears he had cried in his sleep. And then he knew that he can never be like the elves. The elves, they never die. The just walk away from this world, it is said, and live somewhere else. The people, yes, they also live on in the Light, bless us all, but to get there, they have to leave everything behind and die. The elves don't, they just walk away, like you and I can walk from one village to another, they walk from one life to another. It is said at least.

Well, the king knew, he was mortal, and so was his pain and longing. And while the elves knew how to cure eternal sorrow, they also were eternal themselves. Again, the king had to move on, leaving behind the elves, who had danced with him.

He had nowhere to go now, and decided that if this pain is his, then he has to bear it and live with it, and turned his horse towards home.

He had not been traveling for long, maybe a week or so, come out of the deep woods and was riding on a path in a small forest, when he saw a stranger. He was a tall man on a black steed, his dark clothes decorated with silver, eyes flashing like a wildfire. A rich and important man by all looks, he was. And he stood in the middle of the road, waiting for the king, for when the two met, the stranger greeted the king by his name.
"Who are you, and how do you know my name,"the king asked.
"I am a wizard, and your name is not all I know about you. I spend my life taming the forces of this world, and looking into the hearts of people is like looking into the sky. Nothing can be hidden from me, and nothing is. I can show you what you seek, but I must warn you. The world is not what you think. Whatever you do, has its consequences. And they are not always easy to understand. When you get what you desire you lose it forever. It will bring you peace, but it will bring you even greater sorrow. It will take your sadness and leave you with desperation. It will cure you, but it will kill you. Say it, and it is yours."
"Yes,"said the king.
"Very well,"answered the stranger, and with no other words rode away.

Wizards have always been a mystical sort, be they evil or not. Their thoughts touch the time itself and the things they see change the way they look upon the world. So the king was not sure what to think of this, and rode on, towards home. It was a lazy afternoon, the sun barely hanging on in the sky, birds too sleepy to sing. And so it was no wonder that the king felt sleepy and decided to lay down for a while, and continue his journey in the evening, when it was cooler. He chose spot at the edge of the forest, where grassy plains began, and the horse could wander about and eat while he dozed for a few hours. Then he laid his saddle under his head, and closed eyes.

He woke as something tickled his nose. He opened his eyes, closed them and opened again. In front of him stood the most beautiful girl the king had ever seen, tickling him with a leaf of grass, and smiled. And in that smile was everything - the wisdom of the ancient days, the songs of the elves and the magic of the dark wizard. More than that, there was a reflection of the pain and sadness, barely visible in her deep eyes, reduced to nothingness and then gone forever. In that smile was the answer to all the questions. On her cheeks was laughter, and in her hair a thousand sweet secrets, each smelling of flowers and sun. In her hands was magic that could cure every illness of the world, in her feet the winds that cross the plains and bring strange news from the sunrise.

Need I say what happened next? With all his lost dignity, the king fell on his knee, and with words flowing like silver thread, asked to girl to marry him. And what girl could resist such an offer, made by a handsome young man, who sings and dances like the elves and knows of everything like the old scholars and sages, and who is, after all, a great king. At least she couldn't. She had fallen in love with the king even before he woke.

So they rode on in a hurry, and soon reached the kingdom. The king was happy to see that nothing had changed while he had been away, the councillors had taken care of the ruling and had done it like he would have himself. Most of all he was happy because his bride loved the country from the moment they had taken first steps on its soil. And everywhere they passed, people came to meet their lost king and his future to be wife, and brought them presents and warm wishes. The king felt like riding back home after days of misery and loneliness, which was exactly what he was doing.

When they finally reached the castle, they married the same week and had a party where everyone was invited and that lasted for a month before the last guests had to return to their duties and leave the king and his queen to theirs.

When things had been good so far, they were perfect now. With the wisdom he had acquired, the king made decisions that only helped to spread his fame and the riches of his land. And when he was tired of ruling, he had parties where he danced and sang until the morning. The queen shone like a jewel and their love was unheard of. They could never grow tired of each other, and Light knows they were never seen apart. Not a year had passed, when they had a child, a daughter like a dream. And their happiness grew with every day.

Only at times the king suddenly shuddered when he though of the wizard and his dark omens. But the queen only laughed when he told her of his fears, and said:
"The wizards are mighty in their art, my love, but they will never see to the heart of a woman. My love for you is everlasting and so is yours. Now kiss me and forget about his dreadful divinations."

So even the words of the wizard could not darken they lives of the young king and his wife, and days went by, each more brilliant than the other.

But darkness has a way of its own, and suddenly it seemed that its grasp is tighter than you knew to fear. The enemies of the old king once again decided to wage war on their neighbor, and take his land and his happiness. Armies fell upon the kingdom like a storm, burning and pillaging, tearing flesh and soil apart at the seams, hurting the innocent, praising the cruel. The king had to stand up to them, like his father had once, and leave his daughter and his wife behind. Many a tear was shed when the men left the city in countless ranks, the sun cold in the sky and the hearts colder than that. It was war and there was no time for sadness, there were only countless nights in the open, rivers of blood that fell on the ground, sky full of hatred and smoke that rose from the ruins of cities and towns. There were always dark birds circling in the air, flying low because they had eaten more than they needed, and grown fat. They were the true face of the war.

Once again, though, the enemy was driven back to their lands, and the king rode home. And once again it had been a year, and there were few men left to return with him.

The castle had stayed intact, although the enemy had often come near to it, the kings soldiers had always driven them back. And so they rode in the streets of a town where no houses had been burnt and no walls demolished. But instead of finding people happy that they returned, thy found both the city and the castle covered in black, people crying aloud and looking at the king like he was a ghost returned to life. He rode in a sea of mourning, and his heart filled with ice as he looked at the people. He stirred his horse and galloped towards his castle that now towered like a dark and gloomy promise over the sorrow of the world.

And as he had feared somewhere deep all the time, the words of the wizard had proven true after all. While he was fighting the last battles and dreaming of returning home, his wife had suddenly fell sick and died in a days. Her body was buried already and there was nothing but a tombstone to hear the cries of the king.

He felt the sadness again, only a thousand times stronger than before, as the wizard had warned him. His thoughts were clouded by the agony that lived inside him. All he could think of was pain, and memories of the days past. He fell like a tree in the storm and withered in days, his hair turning gray, his eyes falling deep into his skull and gleaming with pain, anger and something that is more than sorrow and more than sadness. No one could talk to him and he spoke to nobody. Only the darkness that surrounded him, and the coldness, let people see that he was alive. He rarely ate and seldom slept, choosing to spend his days in the park, where the queen had planted roses with her own hand. Sometimes he stayed in his rooms for weeks, sitting at the desk and looking into the sundown and hours later, not having moved, watched the world grew light again, as the sun rose behind him.

With years the pain faded and left and emptiness that he saw in everything. There was nothing that could make him cry or smile anymore, there was hardly anything he paid attention to. An avalanche of burnt-out grief was all that was left of his life. And that he could not let go of. For even through the time worn depths, he could hear the laughter of his lover and smell the scent of her. Even though it did not hurt anymore, it was all that he had.

One day, many years later, he was sitting in the park as always, and the wind from the sea was pushing his hair around, he felt tired, and laid down to sleep under the same trees.
He woke as something tickled his nose. He opened his eyes, closed them and opened again. In front of him stood the most beautiful girl the king had ever seen, tickling him with a leaf of grass, and smiled. And in that smile was everything - the wisdom of the ancient days, the songs of the elves and the magic of the dark wizard. More than that, there was a reflection of the grief and emptiness, barely visible in her deep eyes, reduced to nothingness and then gone forever. In her smile was all he had lost, refound.
And his daughter bent over her and said:
"Father, the wizard was wrong after all."