Akrida
From the misty skies to the vast fields, from the cawing of the crows to the whisper of the wind, everything called for the arrival of winter. It was the season that sealed destinies and separated the strong from the weak. From mansions to cottages, everyone prepared in their own way.
"Mother, there's nothing east of here."
The twelve-year-old boy returned from his long run. His cold face reflected what he had seen.
"The northern crops didn't survive either."
The middle daughter interrupted her mother, who tried to hold on to hope even in difficult times.
"It's all right. Esra went to the farms," the woman said, pulling her children close under her protective arms. "I'm sure the cattle were well taken care of by our neighbors, and they wouldn't mind sharing with us."
"We have money to buy from the king, don't we, mom?"
The boy believed more in fairies than in the idea of sharing food. When everyone closed their doors and locked themselves in their homes, each family would take care of itself. Those who stocked up on supplies were safe, as for the others... well, in three months the soldiers would break into the houses and tell them who had survived.
"I'm sorry." The news they least wanted to hear came quickly. "The Moras have only one cow left, and that's barely enough." The family of twelve had already planned to feed only the youngest children. "Josh donated some blankets."
"What are we going to do, Mother?"
Mirah looked at her children, the weight of despair becoming unbearable. She had spent her life tending sheep, now dead from famine, and knew that even the blacksmith's old blankets wouldn't be enough.
"I will join the king's army."
Esra's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Esra, no!" Mirah released her youngest children and faced the young man. "I will not lose another son to this madman."
"Mom, we have no choice. The king pay twenty gold coins and I can send them to you. The soldiers eat in the palace." Mirah's eyes filled with tears; she could not bear to lose another member of her family. "I am not Henry. I'll be back when spring comes. I promise."
"Promise me that the sun will witness your return. When the snow melts, I want you home, Esra!"
She hugged him, breathing in his scent. She wanted to keep him there, but she knew it was the only way to save her other children from starvation.
"Please don't go. No amount of money is worth it."
His younger sister clung to him, frightened.
"Is it better to watch you all starve? We are not of them who draw back." He looked into her eyes, his tone firm. "I love you."
"Esra." The mood of farewell reached his younger brother as well. "I'll miss you."
"And I will miss you." Esra lifted him up and pulled him into a strong embrace. "Sing our song to Jackie."
He nodded to the baby sleeping in his mother's arms.
"And you?" He took the baby in his arms. "You'll be bigger when I see you again. Papa used to sing this song to us, so it's better you remember it:
"My beloved spake, and said unto me, Arise, my beloved, my fair one, and come away.
It was a hopeful song, but Esra didn't feel hopeful. In fact, he rode toward the court as if he were na animal bound for slaughter. The king's banners, decorated with his favorite animal, lined the roads, along with traces of magic.
His place of sacrifice drew nearer.
He hid his horse in a nearby cave, taking only a few supplies for the rest of the journey on foot.
"I'll be back, Mayer."
He kissed his favorite horse's mane. He couldn't bring his trusted companion to a place where lives were traded for stones.
The biting cold accompanied him as he walked, his eyes scanning his surroundings. Everywhere there were signs of winter. Flowers had disappeared, lakes were beginning to freeze, and snow whispered of its imminent arrival. Esra knew this was a time of fear and uncertainty, even though life seemed unchanged for those already within the kingdom's gates.
"Make way for the king's carriage!"
A cry echoed as the city gates creaked open. Esra froze as she watched the ground shake and dust rise into the air. Soldiers lined up in perfect order, and townspeople dropped to their knees.
"Do you want to die, kid?"
An old craftsman pulled him by the arm and forced him to bend down to bow as well.
"Who is this?"
Fear gripped him and he wanted to flee home.
"The princess's suitor. Prince of Ruah."
Esra had known nothing of a royal marriage, nor of this prince. From the eastern window of the tower, someone else also feared the coming winter.
From his vantage point, the king watched the same scene unfold. The icy air seeped through cracks in the walls, bringing with it a feeling he hadn't experienced in decades: fear. Wrapped in thick, bejeweled robes, his piercing blue eyes surveyed the city with disdain.
"King Pérez."
A messenger interrupted the monarch's thoughts, and his grin disappeared.
"Yes?"
"The doctor requests your presence. It's about Aidan."
At the mention of the name, the king's grin vanished completely. His magic flared uncontrollably, blue flames licking at the ancient walls of the castle.
"Father?"
Haya, his daughter, emerged from her quarters, her eyes filled with concern but devoid of fear. She never feared him. To her, the man in the bejeweled robes was not the King – Pérez was simply her father.
"It's all right, Haya."
He forced his anger to subside, his magic flickering out.
"Has the fire returned?"
Her excitement proved how different she was from the others. While they feared him, she celebrated the return of magic.
"No," he said, trying to summon the flames again, but failing. "Finish your preparations. Prince Leonay has arrived."
He donned his cloak, left the corridor without another word, and descended into the coldest, darkest depths of the palace.
There, in a chamber colder than the dungeons, lay the greatest secret of the kingdom.
"King Pérez..."
The physician awaited him. Gloves and masks were handed to the monarch before he entered the room.
"How is he?"
"Not well. With winter coming, he may not survive."
Pérez sighed, his relief audible.
"Can I see him?"
"Of course."
Inside, a frail man lay on a bed. Once feared, he was now weak and broken, a shadow of his former self.
"Hello, Father."
Pérez knelt down and took the old man's hands. Eyes as blue as his own opened and looked at him. But they no longer held cruelty – only exhaustion.
"Pérez..." The voice was a whisper, tinged with pain. "I didn't expect to see you before I went home."
"You are home, Father."
The old man chuckled softly and shook his head. "Akrida has not been my home for a long time. I belong to Zoe."
"Father-"
"Don't pretend to be a bastard like this kingdom, Pérez. You can drown yourself in all the wine in the palace, but you'll never forget the past."
"Enough!" Pérez stood up, knocking over books. "Why can't you rest, even on the brink of death?"
"I will rest," the old man said, pulling the worn blanket closer to him. "Winter has come at last."
"You still think he'll come back?" Pérez scoffed. "It's been twenty years."
"He will return. It doesn't matter how long it takes. Do you remember the song you used to sing to Haya? 'The flowers appear on the earth; the time for the birds to sing has come...'"
The doctor had said that his conscience was confused, but his thoughts had never been in such order.
"The fig tree has put forth its green figs, and the vine with its tender grapes is fragrant. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away."
He wondered. He was going to die, he could hear the ramblings and the vain hopes.
"It's a song." He smiled wearily when he saw the angry man. He had forbidden old songs. "You can deny it, pretend that your magic doesn't run out, or that Akrida's fields are fertile when you know they no longer bloom. Do not be deceived, Pérez, but it is winter and the prophecy is coming true."
"There is no prophecy! Do you want me to burn your books?"
He felt like he was talking to a crazy old man and not his father.
"You can burn them, I still remember what I read. A corrupt kingdom will never prevail."
"You are wrong. Haya will marry the Prince of Ruah and we will be saved. No deaths, no loss of magic."
"Ruah is contaminated too, but he'll take care of it." He smiled and looked at the snow falling on the window. "I love Haya, but only one worthy of opening the book."
"Shut up!"
The words seemed to sting his ears.
"Behold, the king will come with a strong hand."
"Nothing can destroy our walls and no one will dislodge me from the throne, do you hear?"
He took the most precious book and threw the fire from the torches onto the precious pages.
"Stop it!" Pérez shouted, his magic surging for a moment.
"Look outside, son," the old man whispered, smiling faintly. Frost began to creep across the windows. "Winter has come."