Their ancestors came from a land of snow and ice. They found a lush green mountain and the kingdom of Sal Vindagnyr came to be.
The angels help the faithful. Listen, be silent, you will learn, the princess told the visitor of the creed that her kingdom abided by to receive the everlasting blessing that Sal Vindagnyr had flourished under. She received his uneasy smile, looking as if he had other opinions but knew better than to voice it out.
What can you foresee, he asked instead. The princess who received the blessings of the angels told the visitor that she can foresee the future, a gift bestowed upon her by the heavens. She loves painting the events from her predictions and the frescoes in the room are the product of her love for the kingdom, these are what she showed him in answer.
Angels are not necessarily benevolent, neither are demons always evil, he told her after she invited him to her mural room to prove him wrong. Sal Vindagnyr had prospered for so long only because they had the angels' blessings. Generations of scribes before the princess had tirelessly recorded the annals of the mountain kingdom and wholly believed in their hearts that the blessings given by the angels will be everlasting.
The visitor's words are the equivalent of blasphemy to their beliefs.
This land will one day be covered in eternal snow, and I lament over the fact that there's nothing I can do to change that fate, he told her before he departed, knowing that nobody would believe him until the nail that froze the world descended upon the mountain kingdom as he had forewarned.
Our kingdom will always have heaven's blessings. Please, do not speak of such treacherous words any longer, she reminded the visitor not to desecrate the beliefs of their kingdom. Furthermore, fate had always been preordained by heaven's decree. There's no way anybody can change it.
Maybe you are right, but I hold onto the belief that we are wrong. There will be people who can defy fate in ways that we cannot, and there will be people who can have fate favour them.
How? How can one make fate favour them?
I do not yet know of an answer. When I do, I will carve my answer onto a bow and fire an arrow capable of shattering fate.
He left, knowing that his well-intentioned warning was not welcomed in the mountain kingdom. He brought some unique starsilver that could only be found at the mountain kingdom with him and with it, forged the bow that would one day pierce the stars.
It wasn't long after the visitor departed that the nail which the visitor foretold could freeze the world descended upon them, sealing the verdant city with cloud and mist. The unending snowstorm blotted out the clear moonlight, and their beliefs were shattered just like the fate suffered by their undying silver-white tree. The princess took the most complete branch and attempted to breathe new life into the tree which once overshadowed their nation. The grafted life could not flourish and with that, their last hope withered amidst the cutting snowstorm which they were all trapped in.
The hero from another land took the starsilver greatsword with the princess' blessings to search for salvation. Not all teachings are the truth. How can we trust the heavens, if even the stars in the skies are fake, the princess would occasionally recall the visitor's words while she prayed and waited for the hero's safe return. Do not peer too deep into the abyss. Knowing too much would oftentimes set you on the receiving end of retribution.
Is this retribution? Had someone in their kingdom peered too deep into something that they shouldn't have known?
It was strange. They had shunned the visitor and his advice before because it felt like blasphemy to their ears, yet they now all wish that they could hear his advice once more.
The hero that carried their hopes with them never returned in time. The priest cursed the heavens and the hero, whom he believed had abandoned their kingdom. Hope then returned in the most unexpected manner when an arrow that pierced stars broke through the cutting snowstorm to break the nail that froze their land. The nail that froze the heavens shattered into three fragments, a path out of their snowy confinements had been forged, and when the people of the verdant kingdom finally reached the end of the path and escaped the snowy mountain they weeped in gratitude for their unknown saviour who had carved a road for them with nothing but a bow and a single arrow.
The hero ended his fruitless journey and eventually reunited with the people of the verdant mountain. Disillusioned by the act of abandonment by their gods, the people of the verdant mountain left their kingdom under the hero's protection and eventually built a new life within the nation of freedom and wind, becoming one with her inhabitants. Their history was eventually forgotten, their tales which they were once proud of buried. The few who still remembered searched for clues of their unknown saviour and finally came across the songs sung by a sky-blue bard.
The sky-blue bard sang his song and strummed his lyre, telling them of a visitor who forged a bow made of starsilver in a forge within the City of Freedom. To defy fate he had crafted a bow capable of piercing stars and chasing away snowstorms. No mortal could possibly hold power to defy the heavens and nobody knows naught of the price he paid to do so, to save the lives of those who once scorned him for well-intentioned words they wrongly believed to be blasphemous.
The people of the verdant mountain pleaded with the bard for information. They wanted to search for the visitor who saved them all but the bard shook his head. The visitor had disappeared almost just like how he first appeared within these lands. He came from nothing and he vanished into nothing. He had disappeared shortly after he pierced the stars with his bow and paid a price that nobody could comprehend.
However, the bard left them with the last words which the visitor whom they once scorned said to the bard after he forged the starsilver bow.
Fate is intertwined. They are inescapable, unavoidable, yet mendable and also susceptible to intervention. The freedom to choose one's fate is what I wish everybody would never lose hold of. I wish for this bow to be able to chase away the snow and mist, so Frostchaser the bow shall be.
While the descendants of the verdant people might no longer be aware of their past and their forefathers' scorn of those who dwell in the heavens, they would never forget how to wield a bow like the unknown visitor who once shattered stars and divine nails to forge a path of freedom. In their blood lies the pride of proud huntsmen and the dedication to the recording of the true history of the world, much like the scribes of Sal Vindagnyr who once recorded the false benevolence of their angels.
The lies of the heavens, the truth of the world; the truth that still drove their descendents forward might have already been buried in the annals of history, but the instinctual drive that flows through their veins as crimson as the blood which they inherited never forgets.
Time passed. More was forgotten, more was being buried. A long, long time later, yet still long ago — When the deathmatch between the dragons of darkness and wind was decided at last just as the princess had once dreamed, when corrosive blood stained the ashen valley red, the tree, at last, remembered that it had not died with that entombed city.
The tree extended its greedy roots towards the warm ichor that irrigated the land, and the tree that should have long died remembered its past, bearing a single fruit from the coalescence of all its might.
Here, for those who dwelt in my safe shadow, for the priests who eulogised me, for that lovely maiden who oft painted upon my form, for all the happiness they could not possess — I enjoin them all into this crimson, icy fruit.
For the hunter who forged the bow of starsilver, for all the unjust we unfairly wrought upon him in our folly.
To the one who can render recompense upon this poisonous world shall it go;
And may they carry my innocent, bitter fruit as they enact justice.
–Tales of a Hundred Cycles, Vol XXII
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"Albedo! Albedo! Albedo~"
"Be careful, Klee, there is a lot of dangerous equipment here," Albedo reminded the elven girl as she barged into his secret hideout hidden on the snowy mountain of Dragonspine. He carefully placed the object of his scrutiny aside as he guided Klee in, who started to talk his ears off about what she had done today, what she had drawn, how many fishes she had bombed in Cider Lake, how angry Jean was, and how she had cleverly made her grand escape before Jean could lock her in the confinement room.
The ancient bow that the Chief Alchemist was examining and had recently unearthed lay silently on his desk. It had definitely seen better days, its lustre of starsilver had dulled almost completely after being exposed to the elements of the harsh weather for centuries. Yet, its integral structure remained functional and intact, still fully capable of being used as a lethal weapon under the hands of a worthy archer which it patiently awaits to come across, one as fitting as its original wielder and creator.
There was a line of ancient text carved on the side of the bow that Albedo could not decipher. The origins of the text could be traced back to the lost ancient language used by the kingdom of Sal Vindagnyr.
But for those who could read the carvings on the bow, the ancient text wrote:
Fate favours those who seek it, but only those who fight it with all they have will earn the right to defy it