FRAGMENTS: Arcadia of my Youth
"Father. Look."
The girl's voice, clear and gentle as a flowing spring, resounded through the quiet room. Her father, a plainly dressed old man who was reclining at the fireplace, pulled the pipe away from his mouth and turned in her direction.
With her back to a large window, the girl looked like an angel. Her long hair, a rich green color that looked like the surface of the sea on a peaceful day, fluttered softly in the sunset until it created an impression of dancing seafoam. Her eyes, large and eerily dark, peered down onto her cupped hands. There, floating right in front of her small smile, was a shimmering bubble of water that changed its shape with every passing moment.
The old man smiled cheerfully.
"I see... So that one is yours," he spoke lovingly as he rose from his chair and approached the girl. His hand, old, harsh and covered in bruises from hard work, reached into her hair and ruffled it lovingly. The girl smiled warmer, as if finally praised after many years of trying.
"What is it called?"
She murmured curiously.
"Yours is the Ballad," the old man seemed to place an emphasis of pride on the final word, as if it was something to be proud of. "It's a Symphonia that feeds on memories of great people and beautiful legends. It looks, Maetel, that it's your destiny to become a famous storyteller."
But as the girl laughed softly to herself, the man responded with a torn smile.
"Thank god that it was not the destiny I feared."
The girl looked up at her father, her dark and innocent gaze peering into the tortured spark in the depths of the man's eyes.
"I was afraid that, now that that destiny is free, you would come to inherit it."
"That destiny?"
The curiosity in the girl's voice was earnest to a fault.
"Aye. Now that the Serenade is no longer bonded to one, I feared that your innocence would attract that morbid destiny." There was a short pause and, just as the girl opened her mouth in an attempt to ask, her father shook his head. "That reminds me. There is something I kept precisely for this day."
"Ah..? What is it?"
The man stepped back from the girl as he watched the disappointment that appeared on her face when the hand was removed from her hair. It did not last long, however, as the man made his way toward the bookcase and pulled out a heavy, ornate book. The girl smiled brightly and hopped off the window, the bubble in her hands breaking apart into a million sparkles.
"A book? What kind of book is it?"
"This is the Grimoire of Melodies," the man answered and, for a second, it felt like the very name of that book resounded with the heaviness of a million lives. "It records every melody that resounds in our universe. Every Symphonia that sings brightly enough to be heard." He made a heavy pause. "For many years, ever since I hunted it down on a black market, it remained silent. But recently, it has begun to narrate a new story."
"What kind of story?"
The girl didn't seem put off by his story in the slightest. Rather, her eyes shone with a new kind of curiosity. The man could only smile sadly in response.
"Tell me, Maetel. Have you heard of the Skybound?"
"Of course I have," the girl answered excitedly. "He is an ancient knight bound to the endless sky, is he not. For many centuries, he fought to make our world a beautiful place. But..." Her voice suddenly turned sad. "In the end, he always perishes alone."
"Indeed. For that is the destiny of Serenade." The man fell silent for a long minute, chewed his lip in search of proper answers and finally raised the book toward the girl. "And this, my dear, is the story of the last knight to carry that destiny."
Her small hands reached out and wrapped themselves around the book. Her lips twitched, surprised by the warmth of the old cover, the fragile stubborness of the ancient pages and the soft-spoken sadness that seemed to pour out from the humble ornament.
She moved the cover out of her way and found her eyes hurting as she saw the frontispiece.
There, in the endless darkness illuminated by a radiant globe of blue, floated a small and lonely figure.
A single tear trailed down her cheek as she read the first line of the book aloud.
"This is the tale of a Symphonia that feeds on loss."
The girl's voice, clear and gentle as a flowing spring, resounded through the quiet room. Her father, a plainly dressed old man who was reclining at the fireplace, pulled the pipe away from his mouth and turned in her direction.
With her back to a large window, the girl looked like an angel. Her long hair, a rich green color that looked like the surface of the sea on a peaceful day, fluttered softly in the sunset until it created an impression of dancing seafoam. Her eyes, large and eerily dark, peered down onto her cupped hands. There, floating right in front of her small smile, was a shimmering bubble of water that changed its shape with every passing moment.
The old man smiled cheerfully.
"I see... So that one is yours," he spoke lovingly as he rose from his chair and approached the girl. His hand, old, harsh and covered in bruises from hard work, reached into her hair and ruffled it lovingly. The girl smiled warmer, as if finally praised after many years of trying.
"What is it called?"
She murmured curiously.
"Yours is the Ballad," the old man seemed to place an emphasis of pride on the final word, as if it was something to be proud of. "It's a Symphonia that feeds on memories of great people and beautiful legends. It looks, Maetel, that it's your destiny to become a famous storyteller."
But as the girl laughed softly to herself, the man responded with a torn smile.
"Thank god that it was not the destiny I feared."
The girl looked up at her father, her dark and innocent gaze peering into the tortured spark in the depths of the man's eyes.
"I was afraid that, now that that destiny is free, you would come to inherit it."
"That destiny?"
The curiosity in the girl's voice was earnest to a fault.
"Aye. Now that the Serenade is no longer bonded to one, I feared that your innocence would attract that morbid destiny." There was a short pause and, just as the girl opened her mouth in an attempt to ask, her father shook his head. "That reminds me. There is something I kept precisely for this day."
"Ah..? What is it?"
The man stepped back from the girl as he watched the disappointment that appeared on her face when the hand was removed from her hair. It did not last long, however, as the man made his way toward the bookcase and pulled out a heavy, ornate book. The girl smiled brightly and hopped off the window, the bubble in her hands breaking apart into a million sparkles.
"A book? What kind of book is it?"
"This is the Grimoire of Melodies," the man answered and, for a second, it felt like the very name of that book resounded with the heaviness of a million lives. "It records every melody that resounds in our universe. Every Symphonia that sings brightly enough to be heard." He made a heavy pause. "For many years, ever since I hunted it down on a black market, it remained silent. But recently, it has begun to narrate a new story."
"What kind of story?"
The girl didn't seem put off by his story in the slightest. Rather, her eyes shone with a new kind of curiosity. The man could only smile sadly in response.
"Tell me, Maetel. Have you heard of the Skybound?"
"Of course I have," the girl answered excitedly. "He is an ancient knight bound to the endless sky, is he not. For many centuries, he fought to make our world a beautiful place. But..." Her voice suddenly turned sad. "In the end, he always perishes alone."
"Indeed. For that is the destiny of Serenade." The man fell silent for a long minute, chewed his lip in search of proper answers and finally raised the book toward the girl. "And this, my dear, is the story of the last knight to carry that destiny."
Her small hands reached out and wrapped themselves around the book. Her lips twitched, surprised by the warmth of the old cover, the fragile stubborness of the ancient pages and the soft-spoken sadness that seemed to pour out from the humble ornament.
She moved the cover out of her way and found her eyes hurting as she saw the frontispiece.
There, in the endless darkness illuminated by a radiant globe of blue, floated a small and lonely figure.
A single tear trailed down her cheek as she read the first line of the book aloud.
"This is the tale of a Symphonia that feeds on loss."