The prince of sun

"You have cursed yourself for this love, princess of Vahejul.

I found myself kneeling on a huge stone slab, imprisoned in a dark and cold world, totally powerless in front of the powerful shot nimbled with blinding light bursting from the black bodies of my enemies. And heading towards me at a frightening speed, I lived these unreal moments as the last burden of my life. And yet, finally accepting that I had lost him and realizing this end, he came back to life to save me. I knew at that moment that never again would I have to worry or forget, for my heart had finally achieved what it most desired, forever.

***

What is love?

There was a time when I asked myself that question every day. And as far back as my memory goes, whether in naive childhood or in rebellious adolescence, I had imagined it as it should be, as every extraordinary tale and story told and lived by others, dazzling the soul, should be. A dream, a breath, a feeling of a blinding and marvelous brightness. The mystery of life itself. What a fantasy and naivety to have imagined it only like that. There was only innocence and light in that blessed time. And then one day, one inexorable and real day I met him, and everything had to change.

The most terrible thing was without a doubt, the price I understood I had to pay to be able to live it. And so I realized that it was the reason that made this feeling the cause of the greatest tragedies in the world.

For me, who was also destined to know it, it was a heartbreak and an endless upheaval.

One day I had met on my way a lonely and terrible being, whose duty was to save a whole world, and this, clearly in spite of himself. Even if it was only for this act, he succeeded in possessing my one and only heart forever, and dragged me mercilessly into the depth and breadth of his fury.

Afraid of the strength and unpredictable nature of this person that everything condemned, I was wrong to have tried to push him away, even if it was with immense despair.

And because of that, I almost lost the greatest and most beautiful thing that life had ever to offer me.

But perhaps the worst thing was this person's singular and implacable way of responding to my rejection. Simply by a total absence. It was so awful that my tears almost dried up. And deep down, I already knew what I had to endure to find him. A suffering so great that once in my madness, I chose to forget him.

However, and I knew as much as he did without question, that although with a single chance, a single and infinitesimal chance among the countless stars lighting up the eternal sky that one day he revealed to me through his eyes, I would have seized him with all that I would have been, for better or for worse, to be able to live, if only for a moment, our love.

I saw myself as I was, an ignorant young girl, terribly tired and stubborn, looking for the answer to a futile question that had no reason to be. At that distant time, when I was hurt by my failure because I could not touch the heart of my love, I went into bitterness and melancholy. I rejected the understanding of others, whatever it might have been, and despised any consolation, because it made me feel even more miserable.

And life, in its great malice, decided to reveal the truth to me by plunging me into a horrible and infinitely painful adventure where I met on my way extraordinary beings, anchored in their ideals as only few people can be, and using their fantastic and sovereign magic in order to live their passion to the limit, and thus prove to the world as well as to themselves the greatness of their convictions.

And one person in particular has done this more than any other. A being, dark and cold that I met for the first time during a bloody and incomprehensible twilight, during which a foul thing had wanted to devour my life. For myself, who my entire existence has shunned trouble, especially from strangers, I never imagined that I would possess such lust, and the nature of true darkness. But if it was for this person and this person alone, then I was ready to accept it for better or for worse.

Loving him as I did, I sincerely believed I was doing the right thing by tirelessly trying to protect and reach him in the rather unimaginable goal of sparing him the pain of his destiny. However, when I came face to face with his inner self, I had to admit that I would never really succeed. For what I had accomplished could in no way compare to the magnitude of the sacrifices he had to make all his life in order to remain what he had promised to be, going against his whole dark and bloody nature to have the strength to achieve what others so desired. And the moment I had accepted this fact, and what it was, I felt free from the chains of ineptitude, and I finally lived.

As I said, it all started during a glowing twilight and the end seemed inevitable. As I fled from the house, filled with rage, fearing to be punished for a fault that I nevertheless voluntarily committed, I came to a place where horror and beauty were mixed with indifference, and which had led me in the discovery of many things, those things that have been for a long time foreign to me. In this indescribable danger, I acquired the inexhaustible strength to fight and to live. And also suddenly he came to me and saved me.

It was a moment of destiny of unparalleled beauty. Every moment was unforgettable, his look, his body filled with the most unmentionable, tragic nights, everything had to remain. Unalterable, indelible. Of all that he was and will always be for his people and for me.

What normal girl would really want to remember being fourteen! I was a child barely in my teens. Petty, jealous, insufferable, all the faults of early youth ran through my veins. So selfish and stubborn that it was unthinkable for me to change for any reason, let alone for anyone.

When I think about it, everything was so futile and artificial before him. So paltry and why not admit it...empty. And after him, everything made sense.

My sister Fiona had just brought home the first boy she thought was finally worthy. It was the first change that happened in my life. I watched them as if by doing so, I would understand the depth of their bond. Then, as it was obviously not the case, I decided to leave them alone and go out for a walk to think. Fiona looked so happy, that it made me constantly wonder what it was really like! This love that the world talks about and asks for despite all the misery it brought. Was it similar to maternal love, or friendship. When I lost the affection of a friend I suffered more than I would have liked. It would come back as a heavy frequency in my mind over time until it was nothing.

Then, a second terrible event occurred in our simple lives, my uncle Didier died. He was Mom's brother. Our grandfather had come to inform us personally. It was a Thursday, it was already past 8pm, and the evening was looking sweet. He looked so tired, so resigned with his grey coat, his moustache hanging pitifully on his already wrinkled face, that when he announced the terrible news, I didn't feel the shock anymore. It was as if the news should flow naturally from his state of mind.

He told my older sister Fiona who promised to tell mother. Fiona, whom I had believed for a long time to be the only daughter of an acquaintance of my mother's, and who one day disappeared without reason, leaving her four-year-old daughter as a farewell gift a few tender words and empty tears, whereas before I was born, she only liked to spend a lot of time at this friend's house before the latter moved to the coast because of her husband's work. And when the couple came to visit us, this subject would inevitably come up, much to the delight of friends and to my embarrassment. But since their daughter, who was real this time, was one of my best friends, I was happy to let these minor teases slide.

And now we were both at home, alone, waiting impatiently for Mom.

I had tried to forget the grief of this tragedy, I refused to think about it, to believe it. It hadn't happened yet, and also to be honest, my grief was unfounded, because I didn't know exactly what death was. Did it hurt that much to lose someone or to die? For anyone? Why did ignorance hurt so much? Did it hurt more than consciousness itself?

- Oh Mom...

I had lost the march of time, I found myself in a state of apathy. And it was with unbearable fatigue that I heard her footsteps, the footsteps of a wonderful woman, the footsteps of a woman who raised two little girls by herself, a woman who knew how to love, and who gave birth to me in a bed of happiness.

We were both in the kitchen, it was the place where everyone gathered in the evening. She came in, smiling, with packages in her hands, necessarily, and I also guessed that there were presents in them. Fiona looked at me and I returned her gaze with tears.

"It's so cruel to tell her Fiona. But it was your duty. With this, you will break the heart of this incredible woman, who we believe with faith, deserves no pain. Alas, we have no power to spare her or protect her from this.

We all know that."

Never has an evening caused me more bitterness than today.

- So, my little darlings, how are you? Mom asked.

What tenderness in her voice. My tears were invisible but they were all the more painful.

- Mom! Have you been waiting for the news?

She looked at us, already sensing that something bad was going to happen.

¬- No! Not yet.

- Uncle Didier has just passed away.

I felt more than I heard the "no" that she articulated, she immediately went to pour a large glass of water and drank it in one gulp. She did not cry, she was unable to. She went to put the packages back, and began to call everyone.

She acted as usual, with her usual denim pants and that T-shirt, but my girlish eyes would never betray me. I could see her falling into a sadness greater than my heart could imagine.

The burials were organized. And as tradition demanded, the wake lasted three days. Three long days during which speeches of condolences and thanks would be exchanged. I was still a child despite my age, so it was impossible for me to mingle. I did nothing but stand in my corner and observe the rite. It didn't matter to me as long as Mom got over her grief. As long as my mother came back as she was before all this. If only that were possible, I would have given up everything for that.

Finally the day of the funeral came. The moment of the shroud, then the mass, the black and mournful procession, the muffled cries, the image of a being who has left our world, all this grey and dark picture that I could only see through a transparent curtain of ignorance. My sister had stayed with me the whole time the event had lasted. And like her, no smile or understanding had managed to come out of our vague hearts.

The reality was too cruel.

I looked around for Mother, she was surrounded by her family, but the blackness that was slowly eating away at her heart was so obvious that I couldn't help but run and throw myself into her arms.

Fiona untied me from her, whispering to me to let her take care of the guests, and then she took me out of the house. To clear my mind, I looked around, contemplating again the fresh and pure landscape of this part of the country.

I wondered how long it had been since I had been in this region. This was my countryside, the places of my ancestors. This natural and wild beauty yearned for freedom. The soft and capricious wind soothed the heart. Everything was alive and authentic, even the spirit of the people. They were all peasants, farmers, or craftsmen. They lived on the little they had and were happy with it. Joy was always pure, like the cloudless sky that the divines offered us on this day of burial.

It was the same as the countryside of my childhood, where every day my mother took me. But in those days, I already saw myself as different. If I could really ask something to be eternal, then I would have demanded that it be my childhood.

But the years passed quickly, and in the end, we stopped coming here. It wasn't the distance that was the problem. Those thirty-two kilometers of road were not the problem, nothing had changed, nothing but me. I lost my innocence. I shook it off, and smiled at the daylight I blinded myself to. I could see nothing. And then what was the point? Seeing would bring nothing back.

I waited wisely for everything to be over before the last goodbye.

My last image was mother's kiss on the wooden coffin.

A gesture that will remain in my memory through time, a gesture that will be accomplished only once. But in that moment I was too drained to reach its beauty, and I had no awareness of it, awareness that would be required of me years later.

One last time, I had turned around to see this cavern filled with sadness, robbing us of the remains of our loved ones.

I have been too cowardly until now, all those days, during which we kept this cold body near us, not once I assumed my responsibility as a parent, I only took the excuse of being a child, a child who was already aware of the deep unhappiness that could be the existence, and being me.

So I wished myself more than anything else, to believe that there was a fantastic being who could free me.

The days passed, the weeks. I saw the leaves washed away, all special, all a life gone, and the seasons, beautiful and so moving, but still meant a sonnet showing the passing of time. People are born and die ... a monotony that the difference of soul distinguished one from another.

Each thing we lived, changed us. Since this misfortune, my heart has lost its serenity, and I have never been able to recover it. The only thing that mattered now was to enjoy life as much as I was allowed to. For a long time, too long for my taste, until today our world has revolved around our family.

These were what I thought were the happiest times of my life, and now Fiona has decided to be with a man she described as wonderful. Her heart has swung between her present life and her future life, but would it not have been a greater cowardice to refuse this great happiness. In any case, misfortune will never spare anyone, even if you were careful, so to forbid yourself love would be, without a doubt, to give up living.

How I understood Fiona's scruples to take this step, although it was still only flirtations and not the love of a life. I myself refused all the opportunities to discover love, both physical and emotional, simply because I felt nothing. I lived in a brothel. This universe of my house was enough for me. It was what I forced myself to live in, to be...until this day.