<blockquote>


    Mir-Grande-Noit


    Noun


    Translation: The Long Night


    Definition: "Mir-Grande-Noit" refers to a cataclysmic event in the Map, marking a period of extended darkness that lasted for twenty-two Winters. During this time, the land was enveloped in persistent night, with no sunlight, moonlight, or stars visible in the sky. Despite the harsh conditions, this era sparked a remarkable surge in human ingenuity and technological advancement. It was within the shadows of the Mir-Grande-Noit that humans developed pivotal technologies such as electricity grids, trains, automobiles, and central heating systems, and others, reshaping their society and its infrastructure to thrive amidst the harsh darkness.


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    Claramae steered the reins, stopping her shaggy coach in front of the school. She watched as a swarm of children burst out of the building, their laughter and shouts filling the cold air. Among them, she spotted a young redheaded boy, just a palm taller than her, walking down the stairs.


    His gait was slow, his eyes downcast, hands buried in his coat pockets, and a leather bag slung casually over one shoulder.


    As he drew closer, his eyes, a colour-defying description just like his father, met hers. "Hey."


    He climbed onto the cart, settling himself beside Claramae with quiet grace. He adjusted his bag over his lap and sat in comfortable silence beside the faerie.


    "How was school?" Claramae asked, making no move to drive the coach forward just yet.


    "Fine," he answered, his voice flat.


    "Anything happened?"


    "No."


    "Nothing at all?"


    "No, nothing at all. Same old," the redhead replied, maintaining his nonchalant demeanour.


    "Orlo?" She reached out, her fingers firmly grasping his chin, forcing him to look at her directly. "Are you lying to me?"


    Orlo shifted his head, freeing himself from Claramae’s grasp. "Why would I lie? Nothing happened," he retorted, annoyed. Clicking his tongue, he asked, "Can we go home now?"


    Claramae flicked the reins, and the horse began to move, pulling the wagon away from Mir-Sun. The journey home would take about an hour, a transitional passage from the town to the edge of the woods. As they crossed the threshold that separated the urban landscape from the natural embrace of the forest, the Long Night was left behind. In its place emerged a warm day, the entire scenery bathed in the comforting glow of sunlight - Yeso''s dome.


    Orlo visibly relaxed, removed his coat, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Who told you?" he finally asked.


    "The storekeeper," Claramae replied. “Humbert, you know him, right?”


    "What did he tell you?"


    "He said you had graduated eight moons ago," she replied, straightforward and to the point.


    "I graduated way before that. I graduated actually four times," Orlo admitted proudly.


    "How the heck does someone graduate four times?"


    "Well, in high school, you can choose from four pathways: Literature, Science, Mathematics, and Arts," Orlo explained, then paused for a moment. "I did all of them. So... four graduations."


    "All of them?"


    "Yeah. It was rather easy, except I had some issues with Arts. I''m not as talented as my mother was, I guess."


    "Noctavia was very talented," Claramae acknowledged, her eyes still on the path ahead. She didn''t dare look at him. It was always some sort of taboo to speak about Yeso and mostly about Noctavia.


    "So now what? What''s next for you?" Claramae asked.


    But the conversation was interrupted by a sudden flickering that disrupted the warm daylight, momentarily plunging them back into the Long Night. It was as if a lamp was blinking before dying out. Both Claramae and Orlo instinctively looked up at the sky, at the dome created by his father seventeen Winters ago, which now seemed unstable.


    "Not again," Claramae sighed.


    "It''s happening more frequently," Orlo observed. Wanting to shift the conversation away from the ominous gloom, he added, "I have recommendation letters from all my teachers. And... a scholarship... fully paid. I don’t know the guy''s name, Edgar something… but… I have coins, you know, for whenever I want to start college."


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    "Where?"


    "Regulus University."


    "That''s far."


    “Is in Ostesh.”


    “Still far.”


    "Yeah, I know."


    "Do you want to go?"


    "I..." Orlo was abruptly cut off as his attention was drawn to a large gathering of faeries near Godmama''s house.


    "What''s going on?"


    Claramae brought the horse to a sudden halt. Swiftly, she and Orlo dismounted the cart. The scene before them was one of chaos—a sea of agitated faeries, with faces contorted with anger and fear, all converging towards Godmama''s location. Although old, she had the fragile appearance of a five-year-old.


    Orlo, followed by Claramae, had only one thought—to protect Godmama and Maggie from the unruly mob, he moved his short, lean figure, which was taller than the crowd and easier to cut through like a knife through water.


    The crowd of faeries was a tumultuous wave of emotion, their shouts echoing around the duo as they made their way forward. Some faeries, recognizing Claramae, parted slightly, allowing them passage, though their expressions remained hostile and their voices too loud for Orlo’s liking.


    As he drew closer to Godmama, the shouts grew even more louder, but the elder faerie didn’t move. Her childlike frame shielded Maggie, who was cowering behind her.


    "We need to throw her out! She is not like us!" shouted one of the oldest faeries in the crowd.


    "We are going to lose daylight because of her!" another chimed in.


    "Send her back where she came from!" a third voice demanded, the crowd''s sentiment growing increasingly hostile towards Maggie.


    Claramae and Orlo exchanged a look of concern; the fear and confusion amongst the faeries were well-known, and it was clear that calm and reason were desperately needed to defuse the escalating chaos.


    Orlo quickly manoeuvred his way, positioning himself firmly beside Godmama. With a stern look, he addressed the gathered faeries, "Are you all dumb? Do you have pixie dust inside your pretty heads? Or is your intellect equal to or less than a flea lost in a horse''s arse?"


    His words landed like a brick in the water, creating ripples of silence among the previously shouting crowd. “I’m not dumb,” some voice dared to whisper.


    “I’m smart… very!”


    “Did he say I’m pretty?”


    "Are you so stupid? Really, nobody thinks? Really? Ollo?" Orlo’s voice boomed, muting the last whispers.


    "It''s not Maggie disrupting the dome, you all dimwit pixie dust butt fleas!" Orlo''s frustration was evident as he pointed accusingly at a random faerie who was trying to discreetly retreat to the back of the crowd. "You!"


    The accused faerie, taken aback, could only stammer in response, "Me… me?"


    All eyes turned to the singled-out faerie, waiting for what Orlo would say next.


    With a commanding presence, Orlo addressed the faerie he had pointed out. "Tell me, what feeds the dome?" he asked.


    The faerie, caught off guard, mumbled uncertainly, "Hum... the... lake... I think."


    Unsatisfied with the vague response, Orlo quickly turned to another faerie in the crowd. "And what is the lake? You!" he pointed decisively, demanding an answer.


    The second faerie, visibly nervous under Orlo''s intense scrutiny, stuttered, "A... a… an… An Ormsaat?"


    "Yes, very good, very good," Orlo acknowledged the faerie''s correct answer. He shifted his gaze around the crowd, his eyes finally landing on Claramae. "Now... who made the dome?" he asked, pointing to her.


    Claramae rolled her eyes, feeling slightly embarrassed to be put on the spot, and recited, "Yeso Sternach, the Sun who burns land, sea, and sky."


    "Louder, so the ones at the back can hear you," Orlo urged.


    Claramae sighed, then spoke up with more volume, "Yeso was the Master of the Sun. With no Sun to rule, it means the dome can''t feed on its magic... we are running out because we don''t have the source. Yeso..." her voice almost cracked, "And he is dead. Yeso is dead!"


    "Very good," Orlo commended with a clap of his hands. His tone then took on a sharper edge as he addressed the crowd, "Now, please explain to me why you are surrounding my Godmama''s house like a bunch of unbusy human hags! Don’t you have nothing to do?"


    As quickly as it had formed, the crowd began to disperse, the faeries melting away into the surroundings of Faewood. This was the second time this moon that such a gathering had erupted in tumultuous fashion.


    The frequency and intensity of these congregations were starting to worry him, especially regarding the potential harm they could pose to Maggie.


    He couldn''t help but wonder if, in their fear, some among the faeries might attempt something drastic against her.


    Orlo found himself caught in a predicament between his academic future and Maggie’s safety. The thought of leaving her alone in such a volatile environment was unimaginable. Yet, at the same time, the idea of taking her with him to a place devoid of light and warmth that she was accustomed to in Faewood—seemed equally untenable.


    Now that Claramae was aware of his graduation, Orlo realized that it was time to confront the issue head-on. He needed to prepare himself mentally for a conversation he had been dreading, the inevitable discussion about ‘What''s next.’


    Maggie gazed up at Orlo, her eyes reflecting gratitude. To those on the outside, she appeared as a typical teenage girl, clad in her simple blue dress and a yellow apron. Her dark, unruly hair framed her face, and her smile radiated an untouched innocence. "Thank you!" she said as she gently held Orlo''s hand.


    Despite her teen appearance, Maggie possessed the mentality of a much younger child, a fact that everyone was acutely aware of. He suspected that this was due to her unique condition – her red blood.


    Maggie was sick, and the sad reality was that her condition made her fragile, her life hanging by a thread. At any moment, without warning, she could simply succumb to her illness. And there was nothing he could do. Because there is nothing anyone could do against *Rotblut—*Red Blood, the blood of death.


    Among all the faeries in Faewood, Orlo had developed a special attachment to Maggie. His bond with her was stronger than with others, including her twin, Maddie, who, at seventeen winters, was ageing and behaving like a typical faerie.


    Yeso Sternach and Zonnestra Duvencrune lived here with their son, Orlo Yeso Sternach, and saved seventeen winters ago—Maggie. And for that fact, Orlo couldn’t be more grateful to his parents.


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    In the 19th Winter, the dome stopped working. The legacy that my father created before my birth was gone. This cessation ushered in a mass exodus of the faerie populace, seeking refuge in other regions. A few stayed to protect the colony''s garden. However, regrettably, their valiant efforts were met with limited success, as the relentless Winter claimed many of these sprouts. Reflecting upon this event from the vantage point of two Winters since my departure, I discern an element of bitter irony in the downfall of Faewood because Maggie is not there anymore. Maggie is okay—I hope—I’m still waiting. ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer


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