Let me tell you a story from long ago. Our village has been nested in
these mountains for many, many years—long before even I was young. Not all
of them have been peaceful. When our people initially established
themselves here, they knew that their lives would be difficult. The land
had scarce resources except for the fish of the river that flows past.
Despite this, the village was a haven to its inhabitants, people from
rough and varied backgrounds. However none of them could have expected the
true threat amongst them.
You see, the initial settlers of our village brought a girl with them. She
was young, perhaps only 12. For all intents and purposes she was a normal,
if reserved little girl. She had been orphaned at a young age, her parents
lost to a devastating landslide that had taken half of her village with
it. In the aftermath of this tragedy, the girl found herself abandoned.
The villagers were too absorbed in their own comings and goings to
recognize that one of their own needed help. The girl was left with a
painful void. No one was there to help. She had lost everything that was
important to her, and in the back of her mind an inkling of resent began
to bloom. And so one evening the girl stumbled from the village, from her
home and everything that she had ever known. All she knew now was that she
couldn’t stay, she couldn’t stagnate in the filth of those that had
surrounded her.
It was by chance that she met the settlers of our village, on their
journey to the west. They were kind and took her in. The girl should have
recognized this for what it was—a truly generous act born out of the
kindness of humanity. Yet she was still blinded. She accepted their help,
but continued to wallow in the loneliness that had accompanied her.
They built her a small cottage near a pond. She lived there, in our
village, for many months before everything changed. One night, when the
moon hung full and yellow in the sky, she discovered something. She was
far from the village, in the cliffs to the north, when a structure emerged
from the mist. It was unlike any structure she had ever seen, yet clearly
it had been built by the hands of man. The girl was struck with a
curiosity that she had not felt in the time since her parents’ deaths.
As if magnetically pulled, the girl approached the structure. The interior
was cavernous and the air smelled of mildew. Where a wall had collapsed
the temple was open to the edge of a sheer cliff. Despite the disarray,
there lay a history of opulence beneath the grime. Only one thing held the
girl’s attention as soon as she entered the vast room. There, on the
ground, was an orb.
The girl approached it. It was about the size of her head and glossy, like
a polished river stone, yet translucent. The material was completely
unrecognizable. But it had to be important, she thought, for it to be
sitting here unscathed after all these years. As she reached out her hands
to grasp it, it pulsed with an otherworldly energy, and as she touched it
her mind was flooded with a vision. No one knows what she saw, but she
returned to the village with the orb and a purpose.
The girl preached it as a divine sign, a message from the heavens
themselves. She was convinced that the orb was a conduit to a higher
truth, and she was its chosen messenger. The girl spoke to our ancestors
of the orb’s mystical power. She claimed it held the answers to their
deepest desires and to the secrets of the universe. The villagers were, of
course, skeptical, but her conviction eventually swayed them. She had
become a part of their community, someone they cared for and looked after.
None of them believed that she would lead them astray. In actuality, the
orb had only amplified the resentment in the back of the girl’s mind. She
had become blinded by her bitterness.
The village was split. Initially, only a small number of people chose to
follow the girl’s teachings and the orb, but as her influence grew tragedy
followed. The villagers began to see the girl for what she had become, but
by then it was too late. Families were torn apart, friendships shattered,
and the harmony of the village was replaced with fear and fanaticism. The
girl, once lonely, was surrounded by followers.
As the village became more and more inhospitable to followers of the orb,
the girl decided to move her cult to the place the orb had originated
from: the temple. The village suffered this loss of their people greatly.
Winter was fast approaching and there weren’t enough able-bodied members
of the community to provide for everyone. It was then that a plan was
devised.
A week later the villagers stood outside the temple, demanding to speak to
the girl. This drew the attention of the cult away from their precious
orb. One of the villagers who had infiltrated the followers took this
opportunity to steal the orb, but before he could make away with his
treasure he was confronted by the girl. The girl, for all her power when
it came manipulating the minds of others, was still a girl. As she lunged
for the orb, the villager collided into her. Using his entire weight, he
pushed the girl away in the direction of the collapsed wall. And that was
it. The girl lost her balance and tumbled out into the open air, and with
her fell the orb. No one has ever traversed to the bottom of that
ravine—it’s too treacherous—but we can assume that the orb was shattered,
or otherwise damaged. The villagers that had once been avid followers of
the orb seemed to have been released from its hold with no memory of the
past few weeks.
In the aftermath, our village was left scarred, but free. Our ancestors
began to rebuild their lives. We’ve passed this story down the generations
to warn our children to never let resentment and anger guide their lives.
There are forces in this world that will capitalize on our weaknesses and
lead us down a path of darkness. It is our responsibility to not let those
seeds take root in our hearts. When we are desperate, we must rely on
those around us.