The sun falls behind the mountains, causing the sky to melt into pastels with speckles of gray clouds hanging. Inside, the gentle light of a candle dances along the stone walls of their humble home. The two men’s shadows are tall and furious with angered fists rising towards the heavens. Confusion and resistance present themselves in each of their minds, but one must persist.
“I do not understand you, my son,” the older man says, his heavy eyes lingering on his son's figure. “I do not understand.”
With eyes weighed with tears, the son breaks the constraints of the walls, rushing out the door and to the wooded terrain that sits behind the village. His careless feet hug the earth beneath him, carrying him deep into the thick brush of the Foloi Oak Forest.
Soon, the sun escapes the sky and stars twinkle in its place. Panic taints his already uneasy temperament as he finds himself to have gone too far into the timber. He comes to a halt, thinking that it may be best to wait till morning to find a way back home. He begins pushing back down vines to clear a space for him to rest his strong stature.
After clearing out some of the vegetation, a radiant glow of light catches his wandering eyes. Inching closer, the thick brush thins out into a path that is tame on his olive-skinned feet.
As he closes in on the soft hue, he looks on behind the safety of a slumped mossy log. He is met with a small clearwater pond that is illuminated with a beam of the neon moon. An alluring energy enchants his vessel, pulling him into the area. He soon stops himself as he sees what appears to be the top of a head appear in the refreshing waters.
“Who… Who goes there?” His voice breaks, but he regains his composure.
A peaceful hum rings across his ears as the head that bobbed in the water reveals its eyes to him. “Who am I?” A cooing voice spoke. “Well, you are in my home. Who are you?”
“I’m Milos!” he responds, coming closer to the body of water. “Is that you speaking to me?”
“Come closer,” it says, the head disappearing under the water.
“Why should I?” Milos hesitates, but the spell is cast over his body once more, pulling him closer.
He finds himself looking into the depths of the pond, the strange green eyes looking through him. “What are you?” he whispers, watching the creature glide under the docile waters.
The head soon reappears, lifting from the waters and revealing itself as a woman. She stands over the cool pool, levitating toward the heavens like a holy white dove.
Milos, stunned, looks up in awe at the beauty of what is before him.
“Why are you here, Milos?” she says, drifting down to him, and landing on her feet. “Why are you in the forest at this hour?”
“Nothing more than emotions," Milos responds quickly. “What’s the importance of my presence?” He backs away, his eyes taking in the spirit that manifested in front of him. Her waist-length soft blonde curls and pale skin glimmers in the meek summer moon. She dresses in silky blue fabric, dripping with glacial droplets that trail down her slender body.
“What should I call you?”
“Lyra,” she says, stepping closer to Milos. “I know why you’re here," she states, grabbing his hands. He tries to pull away but sinks into her embrace.
“What do you know?”
“Your father is trying to marry you off.” She pulls him down to the grassy earth beneath them. “But you want to feel free a little longer. I don’t understand his hurry.” Her fingers wrap around a lock of his thick dark hair. “You’re such a young thing, barely nineteen summers, and so handsome. A boy like you must want to have fun.” Lyra leans in, kissing along his neck but Milos pulls away, his face caked with blush.