Once upon a time, there was a little girl.
"Mommy, Mommy, I'm here!"
Yennefer burst into her mother's room, her voice brimming with excitement.
Sariel barely looked up from the papers she was reading before her daughter started bouncing around her, words tumbling out in a breathless rush.
"Mommy, Mommy, I just got back from Grandma's! She was telling me about the outside world again!"
Her energy was infectious, but her mother remained silent, listening as she went on.
"Grandma said that humans live in enormous stone boxes—those are their homes! And they always have so much food! Plus, in their shops, they sell these delicious things called Brownies!"
Yennefer suddenly stopped, her expression clouding with confusion.
"But Mommy… what's a Brownie? Grandma said she didn't know… But I want to know!"
Sariel hesitated, setting down the papers in her hands.
"Uh….. It's a small pleasant sweet treat, I suppose?"
She answered uncertainly.
Yet despite her hesitation, Yen believed every word.
"Small… pleasant… sweet…"
She paused, then grinned mischievously.
"I like everything about that, except the word small!"
Sariel chuckled, running a hand through her daughter's soft hair.
"Mommy, I want to try one! I want to go to the outside world!"
But her mother's gentle touch froze. Her smile faltered.
"No, dear… You can't."
Yennefer blinked up at her.
"Can't I? Why not?"
Sariel thought about her daughter's question.
Why...?
Because no one likes Dark Elves.
Because Dark Elves are despised.
Because Dark Elves are hated.
Because the Dark Elves are a cursed race, deprived of the grace of the light.
Sariel bit her lip, holding back the bitter words that threatened to spill forth.
The unbearable burning in her chest suffocated her.
"M-Mommy… Are you crying? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you… Yen won't talk about it anymore… Please don't cry…"
Sariel pressed her hands against her face, hiding her expression.
She couldn't bear to reveal the ugliness of the world.
But even more than that, she couldn't let her daughter see the ugliness within herself.
Suppressing her emotions, she suddenly spread her fingers apart and exclaimed—
"Boo!"
She flailed her arms in an exaggerated gesture, startling her daughter before launching into a playful tickle attack.
"Ahahaha!"
Yennefer's laughter rang out, bright and carefree, easing the weight in Sariel's heart, if only a little.
She gently stroked Yen's head, deep in thought.
What could a small child truly understand about the cruel barriers of their world?
So, instead of harsh truths, Sariel chose a softer approach.
"It's just that your Grandmother enjoys telling grand tales, you see?"
She smiled brightly.
"The outside world isn't all that special."
"But I still want to go...?"
The girl spoke carefully, watching her mother's reaction.
Sariel sighed, then cupped her daughter's hands.
"My flower, do you trust your Mommy more than anyone in the world?"
"Yes…?"
"Then how about this, Yen?"
Sariel slid a silver ring off her finger—intricately patterned, with a brilliant sun sapphire set at its heart.
"Your Mommy will give you this… if you promise not to talk about going outside anymore."
Of course, a child didn't understand the true worth of such a ring.
But to them, objects carried meaning beyond mere value.
Yennefer's eyes widened with awe.
"Whoa... it's so sparkling, sparkling!"
No child could resist such an enticing gift.
"I'll give it to you if you promise, okay?"
"Don't talk... about going outside...?"
There was some doubt on her face, as if deciding if it was the right thing to do. But they disappeared as quickly as they appeared.
"Of course, Mommy!"
Children did not dwell on the future. They lived in the present.
And right now, the glittering ring in her hands far outweighed distant dreams.
Yennefer slipped it onto her tiny finger, laughing happily.
It was far too large, but she didn't care.
Sariel smiled softly, stroking her daughter's hair.
"How about a bedtime story for my precious flower?"
"A fairy tale...? A fairy tale! I want a fairy tale about our Founding Hero, Mommy!"
Yen hurried to her bed, tugging the blanket up to her chin, her eager gaze locked on her mother.
"The Founding Hero's tale? Didn't you hear it just yesterday?"
"I want to hear about our Progenitor's exploits again!"
Sariel let out a quiet chuckle.
"...Whatever you say, dear."
She reached for an old, worn book, nestling beside her daughter.
One hand traced over the delicate letters on the cover, the other gently threading through Yen's hair.
And as the night stretched onward, she whispered the legend once more.
Once upon a time, in a world of shimmering deserts and forgotten kingdoms, there dwelled a fearsome being—the Great Demon of the Desert.
His wrath was boundless, his anger unrelenting, and his presence turned thriving lands into lifeless dunes.
Forests wilted, meadows faded, and mountains crumbled beneath the weight of his cursed sands.
The cries of children, the laments of elders, and the pleas of the desperate—none could escape his relentless fury.
Brave Heroes rose to challenge him, yet one by one, they fell, their names lost beneath the waves of golden dust.
Hope waned, and despair took root in the hearts of all.
But from the distant land of the Elves came a Hero unlike any before—a High Elf, son of the great World Tree, heir to the Kingdom of Elves, and bearer of unfathomable power.
Shyamal Ye Heresia.
In his grasp gleamed The Sword of the Morning, its blade forged in the celestial fire of the first dawn, its edge tempered by the whispers of starlight.
The sword was no mere weapon—it was a promise, an eternal beacon against the darkness.
With strength as mighty as the ancient forest itself, Shyamal battled the Demon, driving him back with strikes of radiant fury, pushing him to the brink of defeat.
But the Hero soon realized that this malevolent force could never truly perish as long as the sun illuminated the world.
And so, with great resolve, he chose a fate unlike any other. The Hero sealed the Demon within his own immortal heart, locking away the darkness for eternity.
Though Shyamal had saved the world, he could no longer remain in the Kingdom of his birth.
He abandoned his throne and ventured forth, founding a new land, where his descendants thrived under the safety of his sacrifice.
Thus, peace returned to the world, and life once more flourished. And so, in the land renewed by hope, they all lived happily ever after—with Prince Shyamal Ye Heresia by their side, their eternal protector.
The End.
Sariel gazed tenderly at her daughter, her eyes soft with affection as she watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her gentle breaths.
With a quiet sigh, Sariel closed the book in her hands. Slowly, a sorrowful expression appeared on her face.
Unlike the happy ending in the fairy tale, the real story was different.