Lyra journeyed to the capital, determined to plead before the council of elders.
The city was already warped by centuries of unchecked whims: buildings shifted shape daily because children dreamt of towers, palaces, or houses of candy. Rivers flowed uphill because someone once thought it amusing. Birds sang fragments of strange songs from forgotten wishes.
The council hall itself glittered with juxtaposed realities.
Lyra stood before them. "Honored ones, you see as I do.....the fireflies of wishes are consuming themselves. Soon, no desire will endure, and the world will crumble into contradiction."
The council sighed. They had debated endlessly, drafted rules, punished reckless wishers. Nothing had curbed the tide.
"What would you have us do?" asked Seraphine, her voice tired.
Lyra hesitated. Her birthday was tomorrow. She would have one chance. One wish. Perhaps her last.
"I would end wishing," she said softly.
The assembly gasped. Even proposing it was shocking. For what was Elaria but the land of wishes? To end it would mean ending their inheritance, their greatest treasure.
But Lyra held her ground. She described what she had seen in the fireflies: their clashing, their extinguishing, the voids growing larger. "Left unchecked, we will unravel the weave of the world itself. Better to accept ordinary lives than none at all."
That night, Lyra climbed the highest hill outside the capital. Pip followed, grumbling about the cold.
All around them, families lit candles for birthday children, and wishes whispered across the air. Lyra saw them blaze up as fireflies once more, filling the night like a thousand sparks.
Her heart tightened. There was beauty here, undeniable. A child wishing her sick father healed, a boy whispering for courage, a girl asking for her garden to bloom brighter. Each wish was a small prayer of hope, not malice.
But nestled among them were darker flames: power, control, escape. The prince, older now, wished again for unmatched glory, his firefly expanding like a sun that devoured others near it.
Lyra clenched her fists.
When midnight came, when her candles were lit, she spoke carefully:
"I wish that no wish in this land shall ever again change the fabric of the world. Let our birthdays remain days of joy, but let desire stay only in our hearts, not on the wind."
The air trembled. The fireflies flickered, sputtered, and... went out.
For the first time in centuries, the sky over Elaria was dark and natural. Only the stars remained.
And silence fell.
Comments
Post a Comment