I was 5 when I saw it for the first time.
It’s one of my earliest memories in fact.
Although it only happened a little over 4 years ago, it feels so distant.
I was just starting to get a better grasp of speaking.
My father was back in the village for a few months at the time.
Managed to get away from his restaurant in the Capital.
Since I was still so young, he wanted to get as much time with me as he could even though he is always so busy.
I was sitting in his lap by the fireplace.
My belly full of a hearty stew he had made for us all before.
We had been sitting there for hours as he patiently taught me the words.
My mother in her nightgown watching from a rocking chair in the corner with this dreamy content smile on her face.
My fathers large hands lifting me by my waist as he adjusted me on his lap.
My lip quivering with frustration.
A few tears staining my eyes.
I was having a lot of trouble with the pronunciation.
The word blinded seemed to stumble in my mouth.
Mother kept telling Father to give me a break for the night as it was late.
But he was far too determined.
“Just…one more time Yara…she’s almost got it!
I can feel it!” His voice, although enthusiastic, was also tinged with apprehension.
Mainly due to the pensive stare and pursed lips my mother was directing towards him.
But she relented with a sigh as she lifted herself up out of her chair.
“Fine…once more…and then it’s off to bed.” Mother states bluntly as she moves over to the large furred rug we are sitting on.
Right behind Father lays my older brothers form, fast asleep within a quilt our neighbor made for him when he was born.
Mother kneeling down and scooping him up into her arms.
He was already almost 9 at the time and had gotten quite big but Mother is pretty strong as a [Farmer], so he was lifted with ease.
“I’ll settle Leone down…” Giving her husband another narrow of her eyes before stepping out of the den and back towards the bedrooms.
Father grimaced briefly, awkwardly running his fingers through his tufts of wild thick black hair that held its place around his head like cotton.
My little hands held on to the collar of his white tunic.
I vividly remember looking up at him with worry that I was getting him in trouble.
But he quickly flashed a grin and patted my back.
“No worries little dove…you got this.
You almost had it.” His encouragement ramping back up as he smiled wide down at me.
My mouth was so dry.
It’s honestly funny remembering how nervous I was just saying something so simple.
But Father made it feel so magnanimous.
Treating it like a big challenge instilled quite a lot of determination in me.
He later on told me how adorable he thought my serious little expressions were for a 5 year old while I kept trying to sound out the words.
Overblown but it paid off.
Suddenly it sort of just…clicked.
“May…the…blinded…see.” I knew it was finally correct before anything even happened.
My eyes slightly blurring as something began to obstruct my vision in front of me.
Framed by the waning fireplace.
Even though the room is so dark I could still see it so plainly.
The unnatural white bold letters that slowly etched themselves before my very eyes.
It was so slow the first time, as if it was still figuring out what to write.
My Father was so quiet.
He could tell I had done it just by the look of astonishment on my little face.
It took about a minute or so for it to finish scrawling.
The bold white etchings even forming a frame around the writing within it.
So simple.
But to my younger mind it was about the most magical thing I had ever seen.
I felt like a [Mage].
But there it was.
My [Window to the Soul].
My gift from god.
The thing that will dictate to me my life’s purpose.
I was still learning to read so it took me a bit to make out what was written.