《ENEZ: A Journey Through Light and Shadow》


 The Light Within

    In a world shrouded in gloom, darkness roamed everywhere, seeping through dense forests and over jagged mountains. It swallowed the valleys and crept along winding rivers, its inky tendrils obscuring every path and leaving nothing untouched.


    Amidst this all-encompassing darkness lay a small village cloaked in shadows. The darkness clung to the eaves and corners as if trying to find its way inside, making the village seem even more deserted.


    Yet, within the murk, a lone cottage stood, emanating a glimmer of light like a beacon in the forgotten night. The sky wept tiny droplets that slid across the thatched roof, soaking the soil below and creating abstract patterns on the aged walls.  The steady patter of rain, a constant, soothing rhythm in the oppressive silence."


    The door of the cottage remained shut, but the windows allowed a glimpse into the scene within.


    Inside, a young woman, or perhaps just a girl, lay on a bed. The sheets tightened in her grasp, her knuckles white with tension. Her face, though perfect in its features, had all its color drained away. Her black hair was unkempt, cascading wildly over her shoulders. The delicate silk fabric of her nightgown, with intricate embroidered patterns at the hem and sleeves, clung to her form.


    Sweat trickled down her forehead, mingling with her golden eyes, which flickered with pain and fear. Her graceful neck strained as she struggled to bear, lull, or forget the agony coursing through her body.


    At her pelvic region, a girl in her late teens worked with intense focus. Her brows were furrowed in concentration, and beads of sweat glistened on her forehead, catching the dim light of an oil lamp. With a determined effort, she pressed down on the young girl¡¯s swollen abdomen, her fingers working with both urgency and care. Her hands trembled slightly, betraying her inexperience, as she struggled to manage the delicate balance between firm pressure and gentle touch.


    Nearby, an older woman with stern features and white hair, her shoulders draped in a blanket, attended to the girl¡¯s groin.


    ¡°Push! You must push harder!¡± the older woman barked. Her voice, firm and commanding, betrayed a lifetime of experience, mocking the girl¡¯s feebleness with its authority.


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    ¡°I¡­ I can¡¯t!¡± the girl whimpered, her voice small and desperate. Tears filled her eyes, her body trembling with exhaustion and fear.


    ¡°You must! For your baby¡¯s sake!¡± The older woman¡¯s voice left no room for doubt or hesitation.


    Standing beside the bed, a young man in his early twenties, with brown eyes and hair. His face, not particularly handsome, bore a broad smile that seemed almost comical. Yet, his rugged hand holding the girl''s soft, feeble one provided her with a measure of comfort.


    "Come on, you can do it! Just a little more!" he cheered, his tone light, yet somehow calming.


    ¡°J-Jack¡­ don¡¯t let go,¡± the girl gasped, her grip tightening on his hand. Her eyes, filled with pain and fear, searched his face for reassurance.


    ¡°I¡¯m right here, Marie. I¡¯m not going anywhere,¡± Jack replied. His smile, though almost comical, was a beacon of hope in the dimly lit room.


    The cottage was dimly lit by oil lamps, their flickering flames casting eerie shadows on the rough clay walls. A large fireplace roared, providing both warmth and light, with a pot of hot water steaming nearby, ready for use. The scent of burning wood mingled with the earthy aroma of the herbs on the shelves.


    The room was sparsely furnished, with a few wooden chairs, a table, and shelves filled with various herbs and tools.


    Jack glanced at the pot of hot water, ready to assist if needed. Outside, the rain continued to pour, creating a constant, soothing patter on the roof. Thunder rumbled intermittently, a reminder of the storm¡¯s presence.


    The young midwife assisting in the birth wiped her forehead nervously. Her hands were clammy and shaking as she followed the older woman¡¯s instructions. ¡°I-I don¡¯t know if I can do this, Mother,¡± she stammered.


    ¡°You can and you will. Focus, girl!¡± the older woman snapped, her eyes never leaving the task at hand.


    Marie gritted her teeth, a low moan escaping her lips. ¡°It hurts¡­ it hurts so much,¡± she cried, her voice trembling.


    Jack leaned closer, his voice a soothing murmur. "Just a little more, Marie. You¡¯re almost there."


    A tense silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of rain and the crackling fire. The scent of fear and anticipation wafted through the air.


    Marie''s face contorted with pain as she gave one final, desperate push.


    "Aaaahhh!"


    Her scream echoed through the cottage, mingling with the thunder outside. Then, for a moment, there was silence. Marie lay still, her breath held, eyes wide with a mix of exhaustion and hope.


    Amidst the oppressive darkness and relentless rain, a new sound emerged.


    "Waaah! Waaah!"


    A baby''s cry, piercing and profound, bearing the weight of heaven and the whisper of new beginnings.


    The rain seemed to pause, and the thunder held its breath, acknowledging the arrival of this delicate new life.

 A Name in the Mist

    As the first cry subsided, the old midwife gently lifted the newborn, still slick with blood and amniotic fluid. The room fell into a heavy silence, each person holding their breath.


    After a heartbeat of silence, the baby let out a lusty wail. The tension broke, and everyone exhaled in unison, their faces blossoming into smiles of pure relief.


    The young midwife, her energy spent, collapsed into a nearby chair, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths.


    The mother, despite her exhaustion, had a sparkle in her eyes, akin to a child anticipating the wonder of a birthday gift. Her face, flushed and damp with sweat, radiated a profound joy.


    Jack, standing at the bedside, couldn''t suppress his elation. His grin stretched from ear to ear, mirroring the playful glee of a mischievous monkey.


    The midwife began examining the baby, her experienced hands moving with practiced ease. When she noticed the stick-shaped organ at the baby''s pelvis, joy flashed across her face for the first time since the treatment began.


    "It''s a boy," she announced, though there was an almost imperceptible sadness in her voice. She gently cleaned the baby with a warm, wet cloth, revealing a tiny, white-skinned baby with a hint of brownness.


    Her skilled hands moved quickly to tie a piece of twine around the umbilical cord, then with a small, sharp knife, she severed it with a decisive cut. She inspected the cut end to ensure it was properly tied and clean, then applied a mixture of herbs and salve to prevent infection.


    The baby''s eyes, pools of light golden color that sometimes-appeared light brown, blinked open, and his thin black hair barely covered his small head. The resemblance to his mother was striking, though his baby fat and deep golden eyes marked him as unique.


    The excited crowd eagerly waited to hold the baby as the midwife wrapped him in a clean grey cloth.


    Jack, with his broad smile, stepped forward, eyes alight with enthusiasm.


    "Mot..." The word caught in Jack''s throat as his eyes met the midwife''s. His usual smile became stiff, the joy dimming slightly in his eyes. The old midwife''s gaze locked onto his, carrying an unreadable emotion.


    For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The tension making Jack swallow hard.


    Finally, with a hint of reluctance, she passed the baby to him, her hands lingering for a moment longer than necessary.


    As the baby lay in his arms, Jack stood there awkwardly, still dazed. The baby''s wails pierced through his fog of thoughts, snapping him back to the present.


    "Hey there, little one," Jack murmured, trying to keep his voice gentle despite his growing nervousness. "It''s okay, don¡¯t cry. I¡¯ve got you." His attempts to soothe the baby by gently bouncing and rocking felt clumsy, clearly showing his inexperience. The young midwife joined in, trying to calm the child, but the baby''s cries only grew louder, echoing through the small room. Jack¡¯s face flushed with a mix of frustration and helplessness as his best efforts failed to quiet the baby''s wails.


    "Jack..." The mother, weakly attempting to sit up, called out. The young midwife quickly intervened. "Mistress, you are still weak. You should rest."


    But the mother was insistent, her words fragmented as if speaking took all her strength. "I want... to see the baby."


    Jack quickly brought the baby to her, gently placing him in her lap. As the baby¡¯s eyes met his mother¡¯s, he stopped crying, recognizing her familiar warmth. The mother, gazing at her baby who mirrored her features, gently caressed his head and back. She adjusted her nightgown and brought the baby close. He instinctively started nursing, his tiny hands gripping her. The baby calmed down completely, creating a scene that left everyone in the room awestruck.


    Embarrassed by the attention, the mother softly muttered, ¡°What?¡±


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    Jack, in a tone laced with sarcasm, replied, ¡°I never thought you, of all people, would be able to calm him down.¡±


    ¡°Dammit, what do you mean by ¡®you of all people¡¯? Sure, I can be clumsy and irresponsible, but I have my talents. I¡¯m not dumb, you know,¡± she retorted, her irritation starkly contrasting her earlier weakness.


    It was Jack¡¯s first time seeing Marie accomplish something so perfectly, especially when no one else could. He could hardly believe his eyes. ¡®I guess this is what being a mother means,¡¯ he thought, having never known his own mother.


    He was about to tease Marie further when the old midwife intervened. ¡°Enough, both of you. This is not the time for playing around. Have you decided on a name for this child?¡± she asked.


    In this region, it was customary to follow the midwife¡¯s beliefs regarding naming. According to the beliefs of the God of Order, the father had three days to choose a name, and if he was unavailable, the local priest would name the child within seven days. However, the midwife adhered to the Goddess of Purity¡¯s belief, which required that the mother, father, or guardian name the child by sunrise the following day. With night already upon them and only a few hours until dawn, the midwife was in a hurry.


    From the bed, Marie¡¯s eyes sparkled with excitement despite her fatigue. ¡°Yes, Jack and I spent the last seven days considering names, both for a boy and a girl,¡± she said, her voice tinged with anticipation. ¡°We narrowed it down to twenty but couldn¡¯t decide on the final one, so we wrote them all down. Jack, could you get the list?¡±


    jack¡¯s broad smile faltered, and he laughed nervously, sweat forming on his forehead. ¡°I¡­ I lost it.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ you lost it? How could you lose it, you idiot!¡± Marie¡¯s eyes widened in fury, her instinct to say ¡°Let me see¡± momentarily paused as she processed Jack¡¯s words.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know. I had to step out for a bit, and when I came back, the list was gone,¡± Jack stammered, gulping nervously.


    Marie¡¯s frustration mounted. ¡°Step out? For what? And what does that have to do with losing the paper?¡±


    Jack hesitated, his face flushed. ¡°I really needed to go, and I left the list on the table. When I returned¡­¡± He glanced at the table with a mix of regret and anger. ¡°The paper was gone. I would have searched for it, but you started feeling pain, and Miss Taira said the delivery couldn¡¯t wait. So, I had to let it go.¡±


    Marie glared at him, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ¡°Oh, so the paper just vanished into thin air? It must have grown wings and flown away, right, Jack?¡±


    Jack sat in silence, his gaze fixed on his sweat-covered hands as he fidgeted with his fingers, unable to meet her eyes.


    ¡°You idiot! You must have left the door open when you went out. It¡¯s probably soaked by the rain now. What am I supposed to do? It took so much effort to shortlist the best names for my child,¡± she said, her voice breaking as she fought back tears.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you just give him a random name? How hard could it be?¡± the old midwife, Miss Taira, suggested irritably.


    ¡°No! How could I give my baby some random name? Only the best is deserving of him,¡± Marie retorted, chewing her nails and scratching her head in thought. Suddenly, the baby¡¯s wails pierced the air again, startling her. Suddenly, the baby started crying again, startling her. She quickly tried to calm him down while the onlookers gave her strange looks.


    ¡°You... don¡¯t you dare call me clumsy when you¡¯re the one who lost the list,¡± she hissed at Jack, her eyes blazing with anger.


    ¡°Alright, enough, you two. Time is running out. Think of a name quickly, or I¡¯ll name him Cabbage,¡± the midwife threatened, effectively silencing them both.


    Jack, after a brief search, found the now-soaked paper lying outside the cottage, where it had been blown by the wind and drenched by the rain. With a frustrated expression, he returned inside, sank into a chair, and began deciphering the smeared names on the soaked paper. The young midwife also joined in to help, squinting at the blurred ink.


    Meanwhile, Marie continued to scratch her head in frustration, trying to recall a suitable name. She murmured to herself intermittently, dismissing each name with comments like, ¡°Too lame,¡± ¡°Too childish,¡± ¡°Not cute enough,¡± ¡°Too girly,¡± ¡°Too common,¡± ¡°Too flamboyant,¡± ¡°Too old-fashioned,¡± or ¡°Too trendy.¡±


    Jack glanced up from the soggy paper, a hint of amusement breaking through his frustration. ¡°How about we name him something simple, like ¡®Bob¡¯?¡±


    Marie turned to him with a smile playing on her face, but her eyes betrayed the emotion behind it. ¡°Oh sure, let¡¯s go with ¡®Bob¡¯ and make him sound like a middle-aged man from birth.¡±


    The young midwife chuckled, trying to help. ¡°What about ¡®Leo¡¯? It¡¯s strong and simple.¡±


    Marie shook her head. ¡°No, that¡¯s too common. I want something unique, something that suits him perfectly.¡±


    Jack sighed, his fingers still smudging the wet ink. ¡°Well, we had some good ones on this list before it turned into a soggy mess.¡±


    Marie shot him a piercing glare, her eyes narrowing into a scowl that clearly said, ¡®You don¡¯t talk now, it was all your fault.¡¯


    Suddenly, a thunderstorm struck, illuminating the outside with flashes of light that filtered into the room. Marie instinctively turned to the dreamy, rain-soaked landscape beyond the window. The lightning danced across the scene, casting an ethereal glow over the soft white blanket of mist that shrouded everything in its embrace.


    Gazing down at her baby, whose light golden eyes mirrored the mystical beauty of the scene outside, Marie felt a serene smile spread across her face. With a soft, decisive tone, she declared, ¡°Haze.¡±

 The Lone Cottage

    The light of dawn filtered through the sky as the thick clouds dispersed to welcome the new day. The large raindrops morphed into tiny dew drops, and the white blanket of mist gave way to reveal lush plains and agricultural lands. At the center of this scene stood a solitary, one-story cottage made of a mix of wood and bricks. The brick walls were interspersed with occasional wooden pillars, giving the structure a rustic charm. The triangular roof, constructed from wooden beams and smooth, flat wooden shingles, efficiently directed rainwater down its sides.


    One part of the wall protruded outward in a narrow, square shape, emitting a thin plume of smoke from the chimney. Nearby, a square-shaped wooden plank was propped halfway up from the wall with a stick, resting on a narrow ledge. This plank served as a secondary cover for the window, used for added protection when necessary. Normally, the smooth wooden window slats provided the main cover. When extra security was needed, the stick would be removed, allowing the heavy wooden plank to be lowered and secured against the wall.


    After a while, the window slats were raised, jumbling together at the top like a shutter.


    "The weather seems to be clearing," came a deep male voice from the other side of the window. A man wearing a dark hood, with half his face obscured by it, was looking out at the dreamy view. His thick, brown beard poked through the hood like stubborn brambles forcing their way through a barrier.


    "Is that so," responded another voice, this one calm and soft. This man, also wearing a dark robe but with his hood down, was seated on a chair, legs crossed, sipping from a cup. His blue eyes were deeply focused on a paper in his other hand. His short, dark brown hair was neatly combed back. The room was spacious yet sparsely furnished with a single bed, a few chairs, and a table with a lantern in front of the blue-eyed man. A fireplace burned behind him, adding a warm, dim light where the lantern''s glow didn''t reach.


    The lantern''s light reflected off a mess of papers on the table, with words jumbled together, clearly intended to obscure their true meaning. Among the clutter were some animal hides with a detailed map drawn on them, different shaped wooden pins marking various locations.


    After a few moments, the man ceased sipping, gently placed his cup on the table, and rose to his feet. He shuffled under his robe and pulled out a small, arcane device. It was roughly palm-sized, made of a dark, glossy material that shimmered faintly with an ethereal light. Two slender antennas extended from its top, catching the ambient light in delicate glints. The front featured a rectangular glass screen with runic symbols that softly glowed, while the sides were adorned with small, intricate wheels and buttons, each inscribed with tiny, meticulous runes.


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    The man¡¯s fingers deftly manipulated the right wheel, causing the symbols on the screen to shift and change. With a practiced motion, he pressed the button at the back, and the symbols locked in place. His left hand moved to the opposite wheel, navigating through different sets of runes until he found the desired sequence.


    Three small, cylindrical rolls at the bottom of the device began to spin under his touch, each clicking into place with a distinct pattern. The man¡¯s eyes remained focused as he carefully crafted a message, each combination of symbols representing a coded word. Once satisfied, he pressed the button again to confirm the final sequence.


    Taking a deep breath, he extended his hand, and a soft, blue energy began to emanate from his fingertips. The energy flowed gracefully, like a gentle stream, and was absorbed by the device, causing the runes to pulse with a vibrant glow. With a final, deliberate press of the button, the device hummed softly, and the blue energy faded, signifying that the message had been sent.


    He reached beneath his robe and pulled out a medium-sized leather bag. Rolling up the map, he hooked it onto a leather strip where a feather quill was also attached, then placed the wooden pins in one of the smaller pockets inside the bag. Next, he carefully slipped the arcane device into another pocket, ensuring it was secure.


    He pulled a small leather string to tighten the bag and fastened it to his belt. As he did so, faint runes etched into the leather began to glow softly, their light pulsing gently in the dim light, imbuing the bag with an aura of mystiqueness.


    Twisting a key on the side, he extinguished the lantern''s flame. He then gathered the papers and walked towards the fireplace. One by one, he fed the papers into the fire, watching them turn to ash. After waiting for the papers to burn completely, he moved to a wall opposite the window. There, he pushed a wooden slat up from the side of the wall and pulled a handle.


    Light flooded in, carrying the scent of wet earth. Muddy holes from the recent rain still dotted the ground, and a path stretched forward with wet grass on either side. A light drizzle continued, droplets falling on the man¡¯s slicked-back hair. He tilted his head up, squinting at the sky. With a swift motion, he pulled his hood up and declared, ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The man with the brown beard closed the door, moved the metallic hasp, and secured it with a key in the staple lock. He turned around and began following the blue-eyed man, both disappearing into the misty morning

 It鈥檚 What Friends Do

    The seven suns adorned the clear sky like jewels set in the cerulean expanse: pure white, calm orange, blazing red, serene black, lush green, curious gold, and vibrant blue. The white clouds lingered at the edges, as if mesmerized by their splendor yet wary of being scorched if they ventured too close.


    Below this celestial display lay a bustling village, a brown dot amidst the surrounding verdant landscape. The thatched roofs emitted tendrils of smoke, while the wet earth was trampled by the feet of its inhabitants.


    Children played in the rain-soaked mud, their laughter blending with the distant chirping of birds. Adults busied themselves tending to their farmlands and animals. Women cooked on clay stoves within their huts, the aroma of spices mingling with the smoky air, soot darkening their faces as they inhaled the fumes. A cool breeze carried the scent of wet earth and blooming flowers, weaving through the village¡¯s symphony of murmurs and the clinking of pots and pans as a group of women washed them in a nearby stream.


    By the window of a modest cottage, a young man with brown eyes and hair gazed skyward. His brow furrowed as he watched the sky, fingers drumming anxiously on the windowsill. The warmth of the suns on his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of his unease.


    "What are you looking at?¡± a female voice called from behind him.


    ¡°The sky, can¡¯t you see?¡± The young man turned around, a smirk curling his lips.


    A young woman came into view. Wearing a white nightgown adorned with dark pink embroidery of tiny flowers, she was seated on a wooden bed with a brown sheet over it, cradling a baby nursing in her arms.


    ¡°I can see that. I¡¯m asking because that serious look doesn¡¯t suit your joker face,¡± she replied, her voice tinged with irritation, though her eyes held a hint of concern.


    ¡°Heh, what would you know about judging the style of a handsome man?¡± he retorted, his smirk faltering slightly but holding its mocking edge.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.¡°Whatever you want to think, ¡®Mr. Handsome¡¯. Now tell me, what are you so worried about? Is it¡­¡± The woman glanced around the room before continuing. ¡°Is it about my father?¡± Her tone turning serious.


    The young man¡¯s smile faded a little. Sighing, he looked back at the sky with a somber expression. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s Lord Eamon. He must have already gotten news of the situation and would have sent a search party for you. It was thanks to this weather that we were still safe, but now that the skies have cleared¡­¡± His voice trailed off, anxiety evident in his tone.


    ¡°Mmmm, it¡¯s been a blessing of the Great Mother, really, having bad weather for a whole week. I don¡¯t think I would have been able to cross the border in that state¡­¡± The young woman spoke softly as she gently caressed the head of her child, her voice a mix of relief and lingering fear.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Marie. Now that the baby¡¯s here and safe, crossing the border won¡¯t be as tough. You just need to rest and get your strength back, then we can go,¡± Jack consoled, offering a reassuring smile.


    ¡°Thanks, Jack. Really, thank you. I don¡¯t know what I would have done without you.¡± Her voice wavered, and she held her baby closer, drawing strength from the tiny life in her arms.


    "Don¡¯t mention it. It¡¯s what friends do, right?¡± Jack replied with a cheerful smile, though his eyes betrayed a deeper, unspoken emotion.


    ¡°Friends, huh?¡± Marie glanced at him. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s what¡­ friends do,¡± she replied softly, a complicated emotion flickering in her eyes, a hint of self-deprecation in her tone.


    ¡°Thank you, Lady Marie. Yesterday, if you hadn¡¯t taken the blame for me¡­¡± the boy¡¯s voice cut off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it. It¡¯s what friends do, right? And I told you to call me Marie when we¡¯re alone. Seriously, why are you boys all so dumb?¡± The little girl¡¯s voice was filled with a mix of exasperation and hidden delight. She made a little pout and ran her fingers through her long, glossy black hair, a satisfied glint sparkling in her eyes.


    "Sorry, Lady¡ªI mean¡­ Marie,¡± the boy corrected himself, looking up briefly before casting his gaze downward. A shy smile spread across his face, his cheeks flushing deep crimson with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment.


    The room fell silent, with only the occasional sound of children playing outside and the crackling of wood burning in the fireplace. Jack¡¯s mind wandered back to the sky, while Marie¡¯s gaze returned to her child, her emotions a turbulent mix of relief, anxiety, and something deeper she couldn¡¯t yet name.