A small canopy of swaying leaves, attached to a twisting, pale beige tree bark, spreads in a pleasant way for the eye. As light from the white sun of spring, gently, but undeniably covers the tree and surrounding protruding grass blades in a faint white and stronger golden contour.
Breeze made its way uninvited to the provider of shade in the small courtyard. Gently traveling to each leaf, giving it its due, until it decides to plunge from the juniper's canopy and reach a young man's crown while the adorning hairs, dark brown, slowly flutter along their original wavy patterns.
Under the punctured shade offered by the gaping leaves, his mother's voice reached him. "Son..." He stood up and immediately rushed into the house.
"Mother." The child of this housewife entered the house, his head lowered, his brown eyes, leaning toward black, silently gazed at his mother's feet.
A woman with black hair tied into two low ponytails, joined together at her back by a small ebony branch, slowly tapped her left fingertips on the small rectangular dinner table at a constant, slow pace.
A minute passed by under her gaze.
"Son..."
"Yes, Mother?" A respectful response
"My lady's mantle[1]?"
"Yes Mother." Another respectful
response
His mother—Adaline—was quite annoyed by such an unemotional response from her son.
"Son."
"Yes, Mother?"
"Can you say something else to your mother instead of 'yes mother'?"
"Yes, Mother."
She should be satisfied for now, I have responded like a good child, certainly.
"Son."
"Yes Mother?" Another beautiful and polite response to my dear mother.
The young man slowly began to feel a certain proudness of his behavior towards his mother, full of respect.
"I will beat you."
"Yes Mother."
Wh—The hand of his mother already in a grasping position and a black,elongated tree branch extends with force.
Black light breaches into every corner of the living room.
The ebony branch mixed with strong brown, carving like stripes in small sizes, fine in composition and reaching the size of a small spear
"Mother.."
"Yes Son?"
The moment the spear of his mother appeared he already was on his knees, muscle tensing to run as fast as he can.
A wise man knows when to come and go.
And this was his moment to go.
He slowly cracked his voice to prepare it for what's about to come."My dear mother…,My beautiful and grand mother."
His voice resounded with poetic semblance.
A small smile appeared on her features, she was not a beautiful woman nor had a very gentle temperament, she made up for it by assembling age, playful temperament and seriousness.
Her lips, of a pale rose, parted ways."Not enough." Reddish brown eyes fixed him with a playful expression.
I need to think of something, and quick!
Clear laughter.
Clear laughter, from Adaline, resounded.
"Next time, son of mine, try to think faster. You know that your mother loves to receive good sentences from you."
The kneeling boy lifted his gaze, smiling, now that their little play over was. He looked at his mother's dress with curiosity and a hint of question appeared on him.
"Mama?"
"Yes?"
"Wasn't your dress supposed to be sold?"
At his question, the spear-sized branch slowly dissipated, taking the black light with it, inviting the golden yellow light to rest in the corners of the room and warming it by their presence.
…
"The clouds passing by one's life.
A man's dream, How pathetic.
The peaks of mountains seem small to it
Fingers worth effort put in its pursuit.
Shall your sky be reached by it ?"
And the ensuing sigh closing its verse.
The young man, outside, silently squatting near his mother's green lady's mantle was looking at them unfocused.
Unfocused, he stretched his right arm in a weak manner, letting his hand hang down.
His fingers, rhythmically caressing their petals and the red light hue from the east joining him in his action.
Something is different.
I cannot point out what, but… I am different.
His thoughts, drowning in this sensation for a small amount of time.
Another sigh comes out.
My blessings it seems.
It's near.
The hanging claw slowly descended into the field, and then, distanced them from their home forever.
They will never taste the heaven's droplets again, the earth's embrace is now finished and the spreading light's kindness, far away.
It brings nothing to ponder on it, instead, just be at peace.
"It is sufficient." Were the last words heard until the setting sun.
…
In the encompassing darkness, the moon stood silently, the stars dimmed, the wind coldly traversing in the young night.The fifteen year old was seated at his favorite spot, under the twisted trunk of the small tree.
The only thing contouring his body, dark blue and white color stemming from a ring of light, of the same color, shimmering on the ground, like a halo around the house passing through the garden.
Clover looked into the sky, his gaze staying at the moon.
And then, the heavens became black, completely black. Neither the glowing moon nor the weak stars. All of them disappeared
A Blessing.
A power without repercussions.
A book of wonders.
A Grimoire.
Such jest, there is no such thing.
The revised knowledge teached to him was not satisfactory for the man.
Everything has a price.
He lightly smiled and grazed with his eyes at the now endless land beneath his feet.
His house, gone.
Over the saffron earth, little flowers of three petals and more were making this expanse of green. They were clovers.
The sky having been now devoid of every light within stretched like a dark roof.
Clover's eyes trembled slightly, the world changed before his eyes, he sat now alone.
A Blessing…
His heart began to beat slightly stronger as his breathing became irregular.
A bit of fear was placed in heart full of excitement, his previous nonchalant attitude gone.
The Blessing! It is here!
His thoughts were lit up ablaze by this experience, one's gift of birth was beginning to descend unto him.
The breath of mist heavily coming out with each expiration.
His eyelashes, in a dark brown, and abnormally long, curved, were fluttering ever so slightly announcing his excitement.
His lips, trembling and parted, preparing a prose.
"Play, sway to the wind.
Blooms of green luck.
Haven't they missed its bind?
Twinkling above and amuck."
After a moment of silence."Could be better." was softly heard.
Clover, having now cleansed his excitement, narrowed his long cat-like eyes and began to think of what was happening. When one awakens his Blessing it is either through a gift or by a vision.
My Blessing comes from a vision, so the Grimoire should be of the 'favor' or the 'grace' category...
Sadly what i learned cannot give me a lot more information.
His eyes relaxed as he tried to recall what he was taught at this subject
If the Grimoire is of the gift'category then I should do the act of accepting the gift but in the case of a vision I should grasp an important term of the magic, and recite it during the bestowal.
I should think of a related word, but what I have in mind for now is probably right.
A sigh escaped him. "I am tired..."
In his vision, no wind presented itself.
Simply the still darkness, with the greenery.
A vision only exposes the holder's magic, and gives the Grimoire but there are no prophetic attributes to it except if one's magic is aligned in this category.
I will probably stay here for a bit of time, about a day maximum if I recall correctly. He concluded and began making himself comfortable while laying his back on the ground.
…
Golden light.
Clover opened his eyes as he looked in front of him.
Golden small light specks slowly came out of some clovers, and very slowly flew up in the sky.
The young man stood up, and approached the clovers from which light came out with interest.
After looking some more he found out that they only came out of clovers that have more than three petals.
Interesting.
He sat back down.
The gold speckles of light slowly made their way up. But the number increased more and more, and, to his astonishment, the three-leaf clovers closed their petals together while putting pressure and slowly turning on themselves.
Until, a fourth petal began to spruce forth.
This is…
As more and more clovers had the same reaction and slowly opened with small balls of light coming out.
As if golden snow came from the earth.
Giving and lighting one's heart.
Clover's face was slowly filled with golden lights from everywhere and a wide smile was on his face.
…Beautiful.
The clovers of four petals also closed at their turn, repeating the process while adding new petals.
And so on until five, six and more petaled flowers slowly bloomed adding a touch of golden paint to this scene.
And Clover, watched, with a smiling face the nature of this event, faster and faster, being enacted.
Until, golden light encompassed the filial boy's body and his vision's plain.
A plane of shimmering small golden lights filled the world akin to a thick blanket of shimmering snow.
Clover, lying on his left side supported by his arm, observed the saffron earth. The wave of light was lightly floating above his head staying still, gathering the last lights from the little flowers.
Why have they stopped?
In his sight, some flowers, thick, in clusters of petals were closed resembling unopened blooms. Last spheres of light flew out from clovers, ensuing the petals closing tightly.
The phenomenon, getting more and more amplitude, made the only living being present sit up. He fixed his gaze at a gradually fast opening flower.
One, tow… eight, nine, ten… fifteen, sixteen…
turning his head towards another place, repeating the process.
They stay still at sixteen. Closing without opening…
The vision's ground, inhabited by thousands upon thousands of green flowers. Now closed shut, waiting for their brethren to enter the same fate.
And they did not let them down.
The last light came out to join its family.
The man in the blessing silently waited for the conclusion.
And then, as if possessed, slowly turned his head towards his back, putting his gaze, full of tension towards an inconspicuous closed bud.
The flower, closed in a circular motion, opened fast, extremely fast, but in the young boy's eyes, seemed, slow.
The opening, sprouting of a last petal, complete unfolding. Sequence finished by it's posing, silently resting in the air.
Seventeen petals.
A sound resounded from it.
A peal.[2]
Ringing.
Loud.
The young man's eyelids unfolded as if impaled by hooks, stretching to unusual degrees.
Before a sound could come out of him, another peal resounded.
Akin to a bell being struck, the sound of the first one persisted, while the second came.
Clover's last possible action was to watch with immense shock the third clover bloom, beautifully, and the sound striking him asunder.
And a fourth, fifth, sixth.
With each peal the world rang.
His eyelids, impaled by shock, couldn't close. A wave of paleness spread across his entire white-wheat colored skin. Sweat was building more and more up.
Each new bell sound adding to the previous, engulfing the world in a grand way.
Thirty.
Thirty-one.
Thirty-two.
More and more.
The still, thick blanket of golden light moved.
Under the near-crazed struck eyes of the bystander, the immense layer of gold light, moved.
Fifty-eight.
Fifty-nine.
Sixty.
Akin to pushing towards heaven, it rose. As if being solid it exerted a vast pressure towards the sky.
The ambient atmospheric air being crushed and going downwards with great force. All of it pinning the sole man down.
The ringing becoming so intense it shook this young boy's body. His hands, trembling, gripping his thighs with all possible strength.
Two hundred… two hundred thirty… two hundred eighty.
The plane of gold ascending towards the vacant sky assisted by the choir of opening clovers. Both, taking more amplitude as time went on. The number of opened flowers has neared the thousands.
Until, the thousands upon thousands of flowers, all, opened without exception.
The peal, having reached its summit, made the air tremble, with each continuous individual sound striking the atmosphere.
The wave of light going towards heaven with such power resembling a thousands of golden spears charging, like thick lines coming from the earth wanting to pierce the sky.
And when the spearheads reached it, they stopped, dissipating the long trials left behind them, letting them disperse in the hollow sky.
The ongoing bell sound still striking the sitting boy, didn't diminish.
Clover forcefully raised his gaze towards the sky, being incapable of raising more.
Forcing his gaze unto the sky, filled with a nebula of small golden stars, forcefully opening his pale lips with an extremely weak voice, letting out a single word.
"Luck."
As his head slowly inclined towards the ground, letting his consciousness go away with the clover's ensuing cadence.
[1] A type of small flower, being yellow or green in color.
[2] A peal is a loud ringing sound typically to a chime or a bell.