Ormgrund

  Noun

  Translation: Homeland

  Definition: "Ormgrund" stands as the birthplace of the Map, the world's most expansive continent, primarily inhabited by the Menschen. It is acclaimed as the origin from where the Map extended. The most potent Ormsaat pulses at the heart of the Whitestone—considered the power nexus that links all ley line nodes of the word.

  Orlo placed Maggie on his bedroom table. His room was more spacious than any he had previously occupied. It had a big window with a balcony stretched nearly the length of the wall, bathing the room in artificial light from the poles outside.

  However, one aspect of the room gave Orlo pause—the bed was positioned directly on the floor. Having never slept in a conventional bed, always nestled within a faerie nook, this arrangement felt foreign to him.

  Curious, he approached the piece of furniture and attempted to move it, hoping perhaps to see it swing a bit. Yet, despite his efforts, the bed remained immovable, as steadfast as a block of stone, refusing to budge in the slightest.

  Orlo indulged in a quick, warm shower, and it was as if he could breathe anew. The nausea that had plagued him all day began to dissipate, giving way to a voracious hunger. It dawned on him that he might not have eaten for days, although it hardly felt so, given his unique nature. Being a Menschen, as Muna had pointed out, sometimes meant that food seemed almost superfluous, yet the current gnawing in his stomach suggested otherwise.

  He changed into clean clothing, choosing a shirt specially designed to be open at the back, allowing his wings to drape like a cloak. They felt sore after being confined within his corset for an extended period. Eager for the meal, he hurried down the stairs to the dining room barefoot as tradition, where Muna and Darra were already seated, awaiting him. An additional plate was set at the table, untouched and seemingly reserved for someone else.

  "Sit here," Muna indicated a seat next to her, which Orlo promptly took. He glanced again at the empty plate set before him.

  "I don't think Zora will be joining us," Darra mentioned as she served him a plate of hot stew. "She's an introvert."

  "I think 'introvert' might not be the exact word, Mama," Muna said, rolling her eyes, which seemed something she would do quite often.

  "Muna, please, be nice," Darra gently reprimanded. “She is feeling ill at ease.”

  Orlo gratefully accepted the plate filled with food, muttering a brief "thank you" before finally venturing to ask, "Godmama mentioned that your husband was my father's disciple?"

  Darra smiled warmly, handing the serving plate to Muna before dishing up some stew for herself. "Was? No, he still is. And I think, since your parents passed away, he has followed your father's teachings even more closely. I've never seen him like this before. It makes me proud," she said with a large smile. “His heart has softened.”

  "How come?" Orlo asked.

  "Well, let's just say my husband's beliefs weren't always the most righteous. He used to believe that the world should be governed exclusively by Menschen."

  "That's a bit..."

  "Stupid," Darra interjected. "Your father saw the world as one entity. He didn't believe in special favours; he believed everything should be in the hands of everyone. I really admired his way of thinking."

  Orlo dipped a piece of bread into the stew and shyly asked, "And my mother?"

  "Your mother?" Darra paused, her fork hovering in front of her lips. "What do you mean?"

  "Well... everyone talks about my father... but even Godmama, she didn't know much about her. It's almost like..."

  Darra placed her fork down on her plate and, with an exaggerated flourish of her hands as if she were unveiling something spectacular, she announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, to the entire court of Ormgrund, allow me to present Zonnestra Duvencrune, The Noctavia!"

  Orlo's eyes lit up. Muna, too, leaned in, her posture reflecting keen interest as she listened to her mother's grand introduction. After all, this was a love story made Hexe.

  "Veilla Mageschstea, our Fallqueen, ruler of land, sea, and sky, was accompanied by her entire entourage of nobles, artists, and of course, the Noctavia. However, your mother wasn't just any casual follower. She commanded her own court. She was the queen of fashion. If she wore red, by the next day, the entire country would be adorned in red. Capes? Then capes became the trend! Braids or no braids? Your mother set the wardrobe standards for every woman in Ormgrund, Mir-Grande Carta, and I suspect even in the Red Sea."

  Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  "Did you know her? I mean, personally?" At this point, Orlo’s interest in the tale surpassed his interest in his meal as he absently played with his food.

  "Oh yes, I was part of Zonnestra's entourage and an apprentice. Your mother used to say, 'If the court wants drama, then drama it shall have!' And she truly knew how to deliver... I can't even begin to describe the brilliance of her creations. There was this one time when Veilla had a meeting with the dragons, and things weren't looking good for Veilla. So, your mother designed a dress that would start burning whenever Veilla got angry. Her address to the dragons was one of equals, and it was magnificent. Oh, how I miss your mother's work," Darra recounted, her smile spreading wide at the memory.

  "So my mother was a stylist?" Orlo asked.

  "A stylist? No, no, no, she was an artist. What she did transcended mere styling; it was pure art. And then your father entered the scene. It was quite amusing back then... But to give you some context, your mother was the most beautiful woman to ever walk upon this land. She was truly breathtaking."

  Orlo's gaze shifted to Muna at the mention of "breathtaking," noticing she was paying close attention, too.

  "But she had no suitors; no man dared to woo your mother. They felt intimidated and considered her out of their league. So, when she wasn't at court, she found herself alone with her wolf. Even after meeting Redfred, I began to focus more on my husband-to-be. Thus, outside of work, she spent her days in solitude, save for the occasional major event. It was perplexing, really, why no one attempted to court her. But I suppose your mother couldn't settle for anyone who wasn't her equal. And your father, he was the sun after all," Darra explained.

  "So they knew each other? Because I was under the impression he was about to marry Veilla," Orlo set his cutlery aside, signalling he had finished eating but not hearing the story of his parents.

  "It did seem that way, but in reality, there was much more drama involved. Veilla never allowed Zonnestra and Yeso to be in the same place at the same time. They never met! They didn't know of each one's existence."

  "How is that possible? If my mother was part of Veilla's entourage, she must have met my father," Orlo asked, confused with the logic of the narrative.

  "They never did. According to what Redfred told me, if Yeso and Zonnestra had met, Yeso would have called off the wedding before it could even be announced. You can't imagine how deeply your father fell in love with your mother, and she with him. Now, exactly how Yeso and Zonnestra first met is a mystery to everyone. Redford has a theory that Zonnestra stopped time one night, and she didn’t know it had no effect on Yeso, who spied on her when sewing, and this went on for days, maybe moons. As the wedding drew nearer, he began burning stitches from his wedding robe and sending it back, only for it to be repaired and for him to burn it again. And again."

  "What happened next?" Muna chimed in, drawn into the story.

  "My father hexed my mother, and she did the same to him. I just don't understand why," Orlo pondered aloud as he accepted a porcelain cup filled with fruity tea.

  "You don't?" Darra shifted her gaze from Orlo to Muna and then back to Orlo. "Veilla would have executed Zonnestra and turned it into a spectacle for the entire court. So, your father, being as clever as he was, hexed her: 'If she touches you, she touches me; if she hurts you, she hurts me.' But the true masterstroke was that he hexed his entire bloodline to shield them from Veilla's wrath. Because there was one thing your father was certain of: Veilla wouldn't want to kill the sun."

  "Because she loved him?" Muna asked.

  "No, silly. Veilla was pragmatic. A heartache heals with time. Everyone gets over it," Darra corrected her.

  "If she had killed my father, the long Night would have started much earlier, and Veilla would have been powerless to stop it," Orlo concluded.

  "You are as bright as your parents," Darra remarked, sipping her tea with a look of admiration.

  Orlo then stood up fully from his chair and began to collect the dirty dishes and cups.

  "What are you doing?" Darra asked, confused.

  "Well, I didn't cook, so I thought I should do the dishes," he replied, slightly puzzled by her reaction. Meanwhile, a maid quickly approached and relieved him of the dishes, taking them from his hands.

  "Darling, you can't do that here. If you start doing the dishes now, you'd be taking Lisa's job... I wouldn't need two maids, just one," Darra explained gently.

  "But I just wanted to help," Orlo said, still confused as he sat back down in his chair.

  "That's a quality your father had to learn over time. He made the same mistake several times. Sometimes, even when you help with the best intentions, you need to see the bigger picture," Darra advised, setting her empty mug on the tiny plate beside her.

  "When we all found out about the wedding being cancelled and Yeso choosing Zonnestra, even going as far as to hex her, we all expected a war. We thought Yeso would kill Veilla, sit as the Rame, with Zonnestra by his side as Dame, and that a new dynasty would rule. But such a conflict would have fractured not just Ormgrund but the entire world. The whole dynamic would change. Instead of pursuing power, your parents chose a modest life, far from the court, travelling with the hope that humans and Menschen could work together," Dara explained, taking a deep breath.

  "I still believe the world would have been better with them on the throne. But then again... I don't know... it's wishful thinking. I believe your father and your mother thought their roles would be more impactful if they walked among the people."

  "I still could have helped with the dishes," Orlo remarked, not quite grasping Darra's reasoning.

  "Well, children, it's late. Muna has classes tomorrow, and you," she directed her gaze toward Orlo, "you have classes to teach."

  

  Raised in Faewood, I was groomed with the belief that every individual must contribute their share to maintain the balance of work effort. This ethos, deeply ingrained within me, endures to this day as a guiding principle. However, my transition to a household of privilege marked a profound shift in perspective. The very fabric of societal norms seemed distorted, as acts of assistance were misconstrued as affronts to one's dignity. The simple act of aiding a servant in their duties was regarded with disdain, perceived as an undermining of their laborious efforts, or worse, a gesture tinged with condescension. It pained me deeply to witness individuals like Lisa diligently attending to their tasks while I stood by, immobilized by the rigid protocols of the elite. I found myself in a state of impotence, compelled to silently observe. I hated it, and I don't miss those "privileges". ——The Hexe - Book Two by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, First Edition, 555th Summer