Forgotten Embers

“How should we be able to forget those ancient myths that are at the beginning of all peoples, the myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

In a quiet snow-riddled valley, hidden from the rest of the world by marvelous towering mountains, lies a small village. Villagers bustle about, pushing along carts and closing stalls as the sunsets against the bright orange horizon. As the last of the lanterns go out and every villager drifts off into slumber, an army of chainmail-clad men bearing the sapphire flag of a vengeful king, stalk their way down the mountainous terrain silently into the village.