myth for hypsela

Back in the day the ice rose in thick blue and white, grey, and black mountains. Every shade of blue was represented in their immensity and in their core was the most solid king of all: the king of ice, even If someone could break to the center of the mountain where the king sat they would be long frozen and more still, more completely lifeless than stone.

But people are so ambitious, bless them. If humans do anything, they experiment. And so they did, into the coldest mountain. All that was left of them were faint clouds tinged in frost.

The king sat on his throne as still as anything, and his thoughts could barely form themselves, they were so very very slow. After millennia it occurred to him that he was not evil. He was just very cold. Over the next hundred years - after a couple of brave and worthy hot blooded warriors met their icy match it occurred to him that maybe he was not king at all. The thought was disturbing because indecisiveness made him think more, and that was a long and arduous process that took hundreds of years to reform the original thought.

There was a crack that echoed in the distance, the ice hardening over itself and he continued to sit, looking at the perfect blue before him.

He could not look, his eyes so frozen, his hands so still and bound in ice. Hundreds of years went by and another foggy being froze. This one almost made it. He could see their young face, their eyes were open and they were brown and wide. The king, who maybe was not a king, had been seen, there on his throne.

Another crack rang out, but this one made the mountain tremble, low and tremendous, the shaking broke the king’s thoughts a little and he had several at once: The king decided to rename himself as “caretaker”. And then he, and all of the clouds, even the companion before him, fell. No one will know how long they fell, down the mountain all together. But the caretaker had no time to understand it was fear that he was feeling. The caretaker had been staring into the brown eyes of the warrior putting together a thought when the mountain broke.

It struck the ground. The caretaker was upside down, and it took many lonely disorienting year for the thought to finish “this was my friend, my friend who came back for me.”

The hole where they caretaker fell remains and he tends to the plants there, the warriors became the Hypsela flowers, their eyes are kissed with purple, where the ice will never quite melt. and everytime the caretaker speaks to them the hole fills with water, and when he rests among them, the flowers bloom while he dreams.