A long, long time ago, there lived in the kingdom of Neige a witch so powerful that nothing and no one could match her. Rumour had it that she used her evil wand and poisoned water to poison the region of Court Florissante. These rumours went far beyond mere gossip...
Do you remember? Now that the previous chapter is closed, let us return to the matter at hand. Let us return to the kingdom of Neige, where this tragedy will end, or at least where true love will be revealed.
Let us continue.
When news of this terrible witch spread throughout the land, the king, although concerned by this terrible news — even if most of it was just unfounded rumours — sent his people to search for this evil person, but they returned empty-handed.
Then one day, a young man appeared at the king's court. With a sombre look on his face and wearing worn-out clothes, he stood before the regent. Despite his rags, his posture was noble, and the king was so impressed that he would not mind if he married his daughter. Before his thoughts could go any further, the young man beat him to it by declaring:
'I have heard that a witch is wreaking havoc in the area, and with all due respect, allow me to take care of her,' he said before the king.
The king was delighted that he had agreed to the young man's request. Damien, for it was indeed him, declined the hospitality that had been offered to him and left that very day.
You're wondering what happened in the meantime, aren't you? Let me tell you.
Three months had passed since the disappearance of his beloved wizard. Three long months that had been torture for him. But that was nothing compared to the years that followed. The first year was filled with sadness and denial. It was heartbreaking, as if a part of his heart had been torn out.
During that race against time, in the months leading up to it, Damien and Alaën knew full well that the partridge was a bad player, a miscreant. But even knowing that did nothing to ease his grief.
For two whole years, Damien was a shadow of his former self. The only thing that kept him going was the thought that somewhere, Alaën was still alive.
It was in the third year that a surprising visit changed the numb state he had put himself in.
Lucien dismounted from his horse and walked towards the hut, from which no light escaped. He knocked on the door several times, but no one answered. Deciding to take action, he turned the handle. The door was unlocked. This is bad, he thought. Lucien rushed inside and stopped. His eyes struggled to adjust to the darkness, and he saw his brother slumped in a chair. Bottles of alcohol were scattered at his feet.
'Damien! Enough is enough! How many more years are you going to spend drowning yourself in grief?'
He grabbed his arm to pull him up, but his brother didn't move an inch.
'Damien! He's just disappeared!'
Lucien sighed before shaking Damien.
'Brother, I'm sorry, it's my fault, for starting this whole thing. But I think that if you saw him just disappear, he's still alive!'
Those words revived him. Damien's body moved slowly. Lucien didn't notice anything, so deep was he in thought.
He was alive. It couldn't be any other way. But what had he done? He hadn't slept, he had only drunk. While Alaën was waiting for him somewhere. He said he loved him. It was hypocritical of him, he thought.
Dazed by lack of sleep, he got up, startling Lucien. Who was immediately happy that his brother had finally woken up.
'Well, dear brother, it's been a long time! What a mess you've made of yourself! Two years, Damien. Two years!'
Damien brought his hand to his forehead. Massaging his temples, he replied irritably in a hoarse voice.
'Shut up, will you? No need to rub salt in the wound.' He finished with a dark look.
Lucien fell silent. It reminded him of when he was younger and got told off. If he said another word, it wouldn't help matters.
Lost in his thoughts, the hunter tried to use his memory to recall the hell he had been through two years ago. But nothing came to mind. Leaving his brother behind, Damien headed to his small kitchen where he took a sip of water. Now it was coming back to him. Alaën disappearing in a flash of light, the sneer of that damned partridge, his own cry, and then the words of that bird of ill omen. 'You will be condemned to search for your beloved for five long years.'
It was with horror that he counted how much time he had left. Three years. He had to hurry, and fast. He remembered. What was Lucien doing there? That coward hadn't come all this way for nothing. He found his dear brother sitting at the table. He had pulled up the chair from which he had risen hastily.
'What are you doing here?' asked Damien apathetically.
'During those two years when you were feeling sorry for yourself like a common criminal, I went fishing for information, you see.'
'Don't expect a single word of thanks from me. You owe me. So, what did you find out?'
'Imagine that far away in the Green Lands there is an old woman who washes clothes without ever stopping. Rumour has it that she is waiting for a kind soul to help her. Could she know something? Maybe, it costs nothing to try. At worst, you'll have wasted another year,' he finished with a shrug.
'It's better than nothing. I'm going. Right now.'
Lucien gave him a disdainful look. Looking him up and down, he raised one eyebrow. As if to ask, 'Really?'
Damien ran his hand over his face.
'Are you going to stare at me much longer?' he snapped.
Lucien shrugged before sitting back down calmly. Damien turned away and went about his business. Thirty minutes later, he emerged refreshed, grabbed his bag and harnessed his horse. All under the watchful eye of his idiot brother. He mounted his horse and rode off. With Lucien's blessings.
'May this journey bring good news,'
Lucien finished inwardly. 'And I hope I never see your sad face again. It's depressing.'
Then he set off again, without thinking for a moment that someone was waiting impatiently for his return.
Damien rode for seven days and seven nights before arriving in the Green Lands. In the first village, Damien asked about the mysterious old woman washing clothes, but no one knew her. He tried again in a second and then a third village before finding some interesting information. 'It is in the seventh village, in the seventh house counting towards the end, that you will find this person,' he was told.
The shack didn't look like much, but it was well maintained, and it was clear that someone took great care of it. A little song led him behind the building. There, an old woman with a hunched back was washing several pieces of laundry with quiet strength, humming to herself:
"Washing, washing until I cry,
Bleaching, scrubbing until I'm exhausted.
And until when?"
'Well, Mum, can I help you?' Damien offered.
"Washing, washing until I cry,
Bleaching, scrubbing until I'm exhausted.
And until when?"
Then she continued:
"Ah, here comes the one who can help me,
wash, bleach, scrub, here is my beloved."
'Well, hunter, I've been waiting for you for a long time! Help me, my spell will be broken and I'll tell you what to do.'
Damien took the empty bucket from the old woman's hands, threw it into the well and pulled it back up. He repeated this several times until both laundry tubs were full.
Once this was done, the old woman ordered him:
'Make these clothes clean.'
And Damien set to work immediately. Once everything was done, he asked:
'Old mother, tell me. What should I do?'
'Hunter, seek the Vast Sea. Perhaps your beloved will be there.'
'And where is it?'
'Go towards the Singing North, then to the Raised Rock. There you will find the Vast Sea.'
So Damien set off again.
***
Alaën was transported to a place he did not even know. For half a year, he found himself in a deep sleep filled with dreams and nightmares with no way out.
At the beginning of the second year, he woke up with no memory of his dreams and stuck in his fox form, unable to transform. It was as if someone had forbidden him to take on his human form. And by that someone, he naturally thought of Laïla, the partridge.
He spent that second year on all fours, covered in fur. He hoped that Damien would find him soon. Little did he know that Damien had fallen into a deep sorrow. It was only after two years that he began to search for him in earnest. At first, he believed strongly, but he couldn't continue.
His inner demon appeared. Distracting thoughts came to him every day. Then, at one point, Damien's name faded away, giving way to several other mixed ideas.
Ebony hair flowed down a muscular chest, and a deep, tender voice called to him. A warm embrace would be in his arms, and he saw himself smiling. What was this man's name? Why couldn't he remember?
Another time, it was his childhood memories that disappeared. The wounds of the child he had met and cared for. His friend's dazzling laughter, even the magic lessons he had learned from his grandfather. Nothing remained.
He no longer knew why he was locked up here. He often wondered who the man he saw in his dreams was. His memory was failing him, he had to remember. But what exactly? And that was what worried him the most. Then, one day, he stopped dreaming. He found himself with nothing. His name was Alaën, but where he came from or who he knew, nothing remained. It had been two years. Two long years.
From the third year onwards, only one thought remained. This person will come. He was sure of it. But what if? What if?
The worst could happen, and he didn't want that. To remain trapped in the body of a beast, without human thought. A mere wild fox. And for him, that was the worst possible end.
This man had to come and get him, and only by killing him would he be freed from his animal shell. Even if it meant breaking his heart. So he waited.
This year will be the year, he thought.