Child of the Winter Stars

On the month of the Winter Moon a lone mother trudged through the thick forests of the northeastern lands of the Monsaria region.

In her arms, she carried her child, wrapped tightly in brown woolen robes.

He’s already dead.

She moved on however, bringing along his still body as if it hadn’t been claimed by the frost long ago.

Around them, enormous trees towered over their insignificant forms. They were as thick as houses and were as tall buildings, but they provided no shelter, no respite, nor resources to harvest. The winter air had frozen their barks, making them too hard to chop and too cold to start a fire, and any fruits they bore had been harvested or eaten up by the wildlife before the winter had even started.

It left the poor woman tired and hungry, relying on the fresh snow around her as a source of water, and her Flame Magic from her dwindling mana supply as a source of heat. She was delusional and delirious from the deprivation of resources, but she clung onto hope like any mother would.

The body in her arms was supposed to have disintegrated into magicules long ago like all things do when they die in this world, but the constant stream of mana she poured into it allowed it to be preserved from the hands of the Harbingers of Death.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Just weeks ago, her expedition had been filled with much more people and supplies; however, all it took was a chain of blunders for it to all go wrong.

It started with a broken wheel, forcing them to leave their carriage behind. Then, the malevolent spirits that roamed this land attacked, killing off the few able-bodied and forcing them to leave more supplies behind. From then on, they would lose more cargo, some shattering as they slid down hills and others sinking into the frozen rivers they had to cross. The starvation came soon after, dwindling down the survivors to just her and her husband.

With the food supply running out, they were once again ambushed by the spirits. Her husband made the choice to stay behind to let them escape in hopes that she could at least make it to the nearby city with their child, but as she trudged on, her legs were beginning to give out. They had abandoned the last of their food, and she still sustained injuries from the attack.

Her vision grew blurry and her skin slowly began to dissipate into magicules, but even so her arms retained their motherly strength, even as the rest of her body was dying.

It would only be a step later, however, that she collapsed.

The sounds of the world seemed to silence—her panted breaths, the pitiful crunching as she walked through the snow—all of it disappeared until all that was left was the gentle whistling of the winter wind.

Her eyes looked up, a hint of light flashing in them as she stared at the sight before her.

In her delirious state she had unknowingly stumbled upon a frozen lake. Around her, a field of blue carnations bloomed in the snow, silently fluttering in the wind, and above her, a dazzling aurora blanketed across the starlit sky.

These flowers… they shouldn’t be blooming, she thought.

But seeing how they blossomed nonetheless in an environment they shouldn’t have, gave her a sense of hope, not for herself, but her child.

The one that was already dead.

The one she clutched in her arms ever so dearly despite it.

Some called it delusion. Others called it love. Or hope. Or perhaps stupidity.

Whatever the reason was, she looked up at the stars and prayed, her body slowly dissipating as she uttered her final words.

“Oh winter stars above me, please protect this child with your blessing. May he someday know that he is loved even as I’m gone… May he live a long life… even as my body returns... to magicules… May he learn… to live… and love this kind world… for…

…

eternity…”