joy.
record XXII: llai na esgyrn.

“Now, now...you won’t cry for much longer,” called a gentle voice. Wrinkled and firm hands stroked the boy’s scarred face. “You must smile!”

The voice belonged to a woman who was well into years. It was soft like sunrays of a breezy spring day and sweet as a song from the angels above. A smile brighter than all the constellations formed on her wrinkled face. Though advanced in age, she was to the boy as ageless as the four Eternal Oceans; Aeterné-illia.

“Who are you...?” asked the boy in awe of the woman’s beauty.

“You will see soon enough, dear,” replied the woman. She tenderly brushed her hands through his disheveled locks.

Her touch was easing to the boy’s broken soul.

The boy awoke from the dream of the kind woman with questions in his heart.

Somewhere, did she exist?

Was she waiting for him?

What caused her to treat someone as worthless as him with such hospitality?

The boy stood up from where he rested. He had not forgotten his sorrows and trials. He didn’t know what to do next.

But because of his dream, he needed to keep carrying on breathing. It was like the faint pulling of strings. No heavy roped dragged him to stand.

A new longing bloomed within the troubled parts of the soul’s heart.

An answer to his questions he desired--and he would not cease his breath until he gained a response.

“Aredor!” shouted a young man with long, crimson hair. His sharp, deep red eyes twinkled with excitement.

To the boy’s surprise, King Aredor rushed towards the young man and embraced him tightly.

“I missed you, my dearest friend in the whole wide universe!!” exclaimed the man with crimson hair. A wide grin spread across his face.

“Kioku...it’s only a week since you last saw me!” replied King Aredor sheepishly.

“Yes, yes, well, you were gone for several years fighting in the Great War. I was separated from you, which was very difficult to deal with.”

“Yes...it was...”

The man of red glanced at the young boy while still holding his best friend in his arms.

“Say, boy,” began the man with crimson hair, who was known as Kioku. “What is your name?”

“I uh...I...don’t have one...” stammered the boy. The boy looked down.

The man’s fox-like eyes turned their attention back to King Aredor. A glum frown spread across his handsome, refined countenance.

“This boy has no name?” asked Kioku.

“Yes...” replied King Aredor. “I searched for a name, but none fit with his soul. So, he’s remained nameless all this time.”

“Finding a fitting name for a Faerith Leid is a rather challenging task, especially since he is not an infant anymore,” mused Kioku, who stroked his chin with long, elegant fingers.

He sighed and allowed a smile to form from his rosy lips.

“Well, I know there will be a resolution very soon,” he stated heartily. He turned away from Aredor and the child.

“Isn’t that right, Eleanor?”

The boy’s eyes widened at the sight of the woman who came to stand next to Kioku. She was the same woman from his dreams, only much more radiant.

Each silver thread hair on her head shimmered like the halo of an angel. Her sunflower dress danced within the breeze of a partly cloudy day. Her golden eyes reflected the floating clouds in the sky and a hue of blue mixed within them.

“It’s you...” gasped the boy in bewilderment.

“Ah, so you remember me,” replied the woman with contentment in her voice.

“But why did you come to me in my dreams?” asked the boy. The woman walked closer to the boy.

“I could tell you needed me, dear child,” she replied. She smiled lovingly.

“Tell me, what is your favorite flower?” asked Eleanor, who gazed at the boldly dressed flowers of Castle Gloria.

“Azaleas and xeranthemums...” mumbled the boy shyly. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

He turned his gaze to marmalade azaleas and ruby xeranthemums. They swayed in the solace of the pleasant and peaceful afternoon.

“But those flowers and their names have been given away to others, haven’t they?” she questioned.

The boy nodded slowly and sadly. They were the flowers of his brother and sister whom he longed to see, but could no longer find.

“The camellia is my favorite,” she stated abruptly. The lad fixed his eyes on her, who focused on the full camellias. A pastel blush colored their wind-kissed petals.

“To me, they’re so gentle and delicate, and there is nothing in this world that could steal away their beauty...not even their wilting,” she said softly. She turned and smiled kindly. A tinge of pain hung in the corners of her lips.

A few moments after her statement, she took his bony hands into her wrinkled hands with a sudden force.

“That’s it!” she declared with a gasp. Her eyes twinkled like the golden dust of the dragon-like Evaithya. The startled child was thrown off by her quick movements.

“For now on, your name is Tsubaki,” said the woman. “You will be given that name in honor of this day, where the camellias grow so beautifully.”

The boy’s emerald eyes widened at the sound of his new name. It was his now, freely given out of compassion he couldn’t understand.

“Now that the Great War is over, we seemed to have entered a time of peace,” began Eleanor, opening the door to her home. “However, no matter how harmonious life may be, Lieutenants must always be on their guard. As my Squire, you will be able to continue to do what it is you’ve done before the war. As for myself, I will continue my fencing, embroidery lessons, and gardening, even as a Lieutenant.”

Tsubaki, the young boy, looked down at his feet. He didn’t have anything before the war. Every day before it was uncertain, he was never sure if it was his last.

“Miss...” started Tsubaki, quietly. He lifted his heavy eyes to look at her. “What do people do after war...?”

Eleanor looked at him with a barely concealed, crestfallen expression.

“Well, it depends,” replied Eleanor. “Some people go home to their families, and some take up their old hobbies.”

She glanced at a golden ring on her left ring finger.

“Before the war, my husband was a musician,” she said downheartedly.

“I didn’t know there were humans who fought in the Great War,” replied Tsubaki.

“Ah, but he wasn’t human,” she stated. Her eyes grew glassy as she turned to look at the jasmine hanging from the ceiling of her house.

“He was a Faerith Leid, just like you,” she said, sombre. “He was called to return to Areon and serve once again in the military, even though he was a resident in Mumei.”

Tsubaki’s mind wandered through the echoes of her words. He recalled the men who farther in age than he. One, in particular, was a blur in his memory. The inability to recall the memory of him fully pestered Tsubaki momentarily, till he blinked and forgot what had once nagged him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am...” fumbled Tsubaki as he came back from his thoughts.

Eleanor turned and walked to him, taking his hand. Her eyes reflected a sense of bittersweet solicitude.

“Dear child,” she began, her voice gentle. “I have no loss. Rather, when I pass on, I will gain, for I know my dear Ed will be there waiting for me in Aeternia.”

Once again, a smile bloomed upon her aged complexion. It was bright like a million wished upon stars.

It was beautiful, like the sun that encouraged flowers to blossom.

Yes, she was graceful light in the form of a mortal vessel, an ethereal marvel that young Tsubaki would cherish, starting with that moment.

The days that Tsubaki spent with Eleanor passed through the seasons quickly, packing away memories in their temporal suitcases.

Tsubaki, a soul so familiar with chaos was not used to the peaceful days.

Rather than sleeping in the captivity of rust ridden shackles, he fell asleep in a warm and downy bed. Though he struggled to eat many foods, he enjoyed learning how to cook and try what Eleanor made. He never went starving and was blessed with hospitality.

Reading, writing, and arithmetics captivated his mind. As a child, he never received an education, and he was thankful for the opportunity to grow wiser and see the world through fascinating words and numbers.

On his body, he wore clothing that was comfortable and fitting. There was never blood or dirt on their surfaces. No rips or tears came through the fabrics.

In spare, uneventful time, he watched the flowers in Eleanor’s garden grow...and waited for them to sing.

Once, long ago, the flowers would sing to him. They would ease his troubled heart, reminding him that running away would never save him from his sorrows. They encouraged him to stay at the wretched place where his “parents” existed, so he could protect his brother.

Every time Tsubaki looked at an azalea or xeranthemum, a crushing melancholy tore away at the fibers of his heartstrings.

What would his siblings think of Eleanor?

Would they cherish her light just as he did?

Each euphoric moment he spent with Eleanor brought forth a desire for the presence of his brother and sister. Before their conception, the love Tsubaki held for his siblings played with his heartbeats.

The longing to guard something untainted and to watch it become more brilliant than all that the world claimed as breathtaking fluttered like fireflies in the dark forest of his troubled soul.

If they were alive, would they love him as much as he loved them?

Even after the seasons that had passed, Tsubaki was still in agony of those he lost long ago.

“You received a letter from King Aredor, Tsubaki,” said Eleanor. She sat down next to him at the smooth oak dining room table.

“Why would he send me a letter?” asked Tsubaki, surprised.

“Well, why don’t you read it and see?” replied Eleanor. She handed him a letter in a cream-colored envelope; sealed closed with candle wax and a hibiscus flower.

With gentle hands, Tsubaki opened the envelope and unfolded the letter. Carefully, he read the words written out in navy blue ink. As his eyes traced over the calligraphy, his eyes widened.

“Is everything alright?” asked Eleanor, worried.

“King Aredor wants me to consider becoming a captain for Areon’s Special Forces...” breathed Tsubaki, bewildered.

“My, that’s wonderful!” exclaimed Eleanor, putting her hands together.

Tsubaki made no response. Quickly, he stood up from his chair and pushed it back in.

“Tsubaki, is everything okay...?” asked Eleanor. Her golden eyes glimmered with concern.

“I need some rest,” replied Tsubaki hastily. He made his way to the room he called his own.

He shut his door behind him and locked it. His fingers touched the words written on the letter as he began to tremble.

He didn’t want to go back to Areon.

There were too many memories there, ones that still haunted him in the night. He didn’t want to walk upon the dirt roads where he lost his baby brother. He wished not to face the execution grounds where he first heard of his murdered infant sister.

The sounds of poverty, the stench of death, the signs of sorrow--he yearned to be far from all that plagued his past.

“Can it be okay for me to run away...?” asked Tsubaki, whispering. He leaned on his door, sliding down onto the wooden floors.

His question left a bitter taste on his tongue.

He fought as best as he could to save his country from destruction, but was it all he could do?

Could there have been fewer casualties if he had done something more?

“I’m a failure of a protector...” murmured Tsubaki. “I’m a cursed being, so why would you ask me to be a captain...?”

Tsubaki began to wrinkle the letter. Tears in the paper grew under the pressure of his grip.

“I can’t do it...” he choked, trying not to cry. “I can’t be a hero for anyone...”

Tears began to fall from his eyes, causing his vision to blur.

“I don’t want to be a hero...”

It was a starless, indigo night within the mysterious corners of Tsubaki’s dreamscape.

Tsubaki rested supine, with green grass tickling the skin on his back and neck.

“Why was I brought here?” he asked, staring into the empty sky.

“I was brought to this place, taken in by a kind woman...but why? Why would she want me here?”

He lifted his right hand up, reaching for the darkness that loomed above him.

“Why was I born?”

“You horrible wretch!” screeched the voice of a woman.

“We should’ve killed him before he was born...” mumbled a man, bitterly.

“What...?” gasped Tsubaki. In a panic, he got up and stood on his feet.

“You don’t have a right to live in this world!” called an unknown voice. “Your existence is a curse...even the flowers have shunned you!”

“What did I do wrong?!” shouted Tsubaki, his eyes lifted to the sky.

“You’re a Fabelwesen, born into this world, trying to do the right thing,” said the voice of a young girl.

Tsubaki turned around slowly to look at the one who spoke. A girl with long, ginger hair and emerald eyes stared lifelessly into his.

“Xeranthe...” mouthed Tsubaki. His hands began to shake violently. Shivers crawled down his spine like a spider in its gossamer trap.

“You tried being a hero, but you failed and killed me instead,” said the voice of a young boy.

Tears began to well in Tsubaki’s eyes as he turned his head to left. A young boy with short, ginger hair and emerald eyes gazed spiritless at Tsubaki.

“Tsutsuji...I’m sorry...” whimpered Tsubaki. The torment of their words began to tear into his body, making him feel heavy.

“Your apologies mean nothing in light of what you are!” screamed the boy and girl. “You should’ve never been born!! Your existence only brings hell to this world!!”

“Please, stop!!” screamed Tsubaki. He lifted his hand his ears, covering them.

“You should’ve just died!!” screamed all the voices. The swarmed and echoed, making Tsubaki’s ears ring. Blood trickled from them, dripping down his bony cheeks.

“No, no no no no, please no!!!” pleaded Tsubaki as he fell to his knees.

The darkness of the sky spun around him, and mighty winds ripped at the flesh on his twig-like arms.

A raw and stinging of feeling filled Tsubaki’s hands. He took them away from his ears and looked at them with horror. The skin had begun to disintegrate, and his bone and muscles began to reveal themselves.

The dust that was once a part of Tsubaki’s body faded into the daunting darkness around him. Cries and sobs from the depths of his soul choked him and tangled his breath with the soreness of his fading voice. His eyes grew wild with dread and despair.

Tears tore away at his flesh, staining the epidermis like papyrus to paint. The blood in his body dried up and his bones crippled.

The grass and foliage around him rotted and turned to a sickening, brown mush. The ground beneath him broke open to the sights of a hopeless hell.

Oxygen escaped Tsubaki’s lungs; torn away from his twin organs with swift and quick movements. Like a robotic machine with sudden, disconnected circuits, his brain shut down, and he lost all control of his existence.

With eyes filled with trauma, Tsubaki felt one final heartbeat.

Color began to dissolve from his vision as he fell into the rot of the earth. His body became a soulless cocoon, disintegrating into nothingness.

Tsubaki woke to a throbbing pain in his chest. His entire body was hot, yet he shivered.

He turned his head to see Evangelique sleeping, holding on gently to his hand.

‘I must’ve passed out...’ thought Tsubaki. He had not been well in health for some time now, but recently it had begun to get worse.

He took Evangelique’s hand off of his, not wishing to awaken him.

“Thank you...” he whispered weakly. He got up from the couch where he had slept and walked into his messy room.

He grabbed a wrinkled piece of paper and gritted his teeth. Shortly after, he threw it back down to the ground and walked toward the door of the house.

After quickly slipping on his coat and boots, he silently left the house.

He had a mission to accomplish--and he was going to see it through, no matter what it cost.

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