Two people stood in the room and silently looked at the wonderful face depicted in the mysterious portrait, not daring to carry out the order and destroy it.
“Is this a portrait?” Said one of the servants, addressing a beautiful blonde girl who stood alone in the middle of a deserted room, but did not want to come closer to the beautiful portrait, but only looked at it from afar.
She looked pretty much like the beauty in the portrait. Only her whole appearance radiated goodness, and in the ominous depth of beautiful eyes from the portrait was read cruelty.
“Burn it,” she ordered, but every word was given to her with incredible difficulty. “Burn it.
Without a drop of regret, the ruthless servants tore the portrait of a beautiful young girl from the wall and threw it into the fire. The picture flared up with a bright flame and it, touching it, for a moment illuminated the beautiful face of the witch with its light.
A tear rolled down the face of the young beauty, but then a snow-white hand fell on her shoulder in a gesture of tender sympathy and support, and the beauty touched her with the same love.
“What should I do, Clara?” She whispered, barely audibly.
“Forget everything,” Clara’s quiet voice answered her.
“Forget it all, Maerlin,” she repeated, “it doesn’t matter anymore.”
The portrait of the beautiful Emily was already burning in the fire, and a particle of evil embodied in the portrait burned with it.
“I would like to be as beautiful as she,” Maerlin said.
She did not yet know that fate was preparing her fate to be many times more beautiful than her own dream.
Waves beat against the shore at the wild rocks. It was another sea and other rocks, Clara took Maerlin away from the witch’s castle and the kingdom of evil.
Clara stood on a high cliff by the steep, deserted shore.
Neither time nor tears could change her beautiful face, not a single wrinkle was visible on her still young face. There was not even a strand of gray in her black hair.
She gazed sadly down at the sea, so beautiful, distant and deadly here on the top of the cliff.
A cold wind blew from the sea, driving the icy waves of the tide. Clara’s hands involuntarily pressed against her body, trying to keep warm.
“Your dreams have died, Clara,” a voice filled with evil whispered behind her, “the memory of them revived me in your memory, your memories brought me here.
She barely flinched when she heard his voice, but did not even turn around, because she already knew who was standing in front of her.
“Why did you come back,” she said, restraining her anger, “why did you come here, this place does not belong to you, there is no magic of your witchcraft in these rocks.
“Forces of darkness are present everywhere, they just need to be awakened by human evil, grief or pain. They will become even more powerful, and the whole world will belong to me when there is no pure, bright and beautiful dream left in it.
“It will never happen,” she hastily interrupted him, “the dream of goodness is immortal in the hearts of people, and it will defeat you.”
“Oh no,” – a short laugh escaped from the chest of the bloody demon, “she needs to be saved, not me. After all, even in goodness I can find evil, in beauty ugliness, in a dream inconsolable grief. This is my strength, I can find the worst in the beautiful soul of people, I can turn their dignity into a curse. It happened with Roderick, it will happen with the daughter of our princess.”
“I will not allow,” said Clara, “I will not allow you to kill her.
“She’s only a human.”
“But why then did you wait for so many years, why do you need her life now?”
“I just know that if some time passes, then the same magical charm of the princess will appear in her, she took your life, so why would you save her daughter.”
“Because she became my daughter, and you cannot deceive me, demon.”
“And I don’t need it, I just give you a choice, Clara, give me Maerlin, and then I will save your life.”
“No,” Clara answered firmly, her decision was unshakable.
Clara slowly turned around and looked straight into the fiery eyes of the bloody demon, who now wanted to destroy her. She believed that Maerlin would survive, no forces of evil could defeat her. Clara understood this, because she loved her, but now she looked into the eyes of her own bloody death.
A clawed, bloody hand rested on her shoulder, and pain shot through Clara’s entire body. Suddenly, something unexpected forced the demon to release its victim from the embrace of death, and Clara’s bloody corpse fell lifelessly down, where the sea was rustling, and its waves forever preserved the beauty of her sweet face. The gaze of the bloody demon instantly rushed to where not far away, on a high rock, stood a small lonely house, filled with warmth and comfort.
“Clara,” came from there the low cry of someone’s clear and beautiful voice, barely drowning out the violent gusts of wind. A beautiful young girl came out of the house, and the fiery eyes of the devil widened in insane anger when he saw her.
“Clara,” she shouted again, gathering all her strength.
She quickly ran forward, although gusts of wind blocked her way to the sea and to the edge of the cliff, where Clara had previously stood.
“Clara,” she whispered softly with growing fear, looking around, but nowhere was a living soul to be seen.
“Maerlin, Maerlin,” a mysterious whisper echoed in a mysterious silence.
“Clara,” Maerlin repeated involuntarily, but she knew that the voice was not Klara’s.
“Maerlin, beautiful dream,” sounded again in the silence, making her shudder all over.
“Who is there?” Looking around apprehensively, she whispered softly and again, in a terrible fit of fear, shouted with all her might:
“Clara!”
Her desperate cry went unanswered. A long, clawed hand from behind reached out to Maerlin, almost touching her shoulder, but as soon as she flinched with a bad feeling, the strange hand disappeared into the mist again.
“Clara,” Maerlin whispered for the last time, but then a sound suddenly made her turn sharply, but there was no one around. Sighing heavily, Maerlin involuntarily backed away. Suddenly icy hands grabbed her from behind.
Maerlin screamed and dashed away with all her might. In the very last moment, when she was about to run back home, something made her turn around. At the edge of the cliff, a huge figure surged up in a fit of pain, or, perhaps, inhuman anger.
Bloody eyes looked directly at her from somewhere in the very darkness, and it seemed to her that if they only wanted, they could kill her at any moment.
“You are beautiful,” the monster whispered softly, almost touching her face with its clawed paw.
In wild fright, Maerlin recoiled, and the small golden cross in her hand, always kept by her as the last spark of good in memory of her mother, slipped out of her fingers and fell to the cold ground with a clang.
The monster’s eyes flashed with fire, now he longed for the death of Maerlin.
Maerlin made a sharp movement, wanting to get away from here as soon as possible, but involuntarily fell to the cold ground next to her golden crucifix. Her hand, in the last hope of salvation, reached out to this cross.
She did not understand that the last moment saved her. As if some light and pure radiance helped her reach the cross, some magic of light blinded the bloody demon for a moment. Maerlin quickly grabbed the cross in her hand.
The cross in her hand immediately shone with a blinding light, reflected in the eyes of the bloody demon. The demon screamed in pain and disappeared.
Then the snow-white hand of the figure slowly bending over her gently touched her shoulder, and there was so much tenderness in this light touch that made Maerlin distinctly whisper one single and so sweet, but never known to her word:
– Mum.
She gripped the golden crucifix tightly in her hand and barely opened her eyes.
Before her was a beautiful face, so similar to Clara’s and so different from her in its truly magical beauty.
“Mom,” she whispered in a dream.
The beauty ran her snow-white sparkling magic hand over Maerlin’s cheek, and from her hand a magical radiance of light spread around and filled Maerlin’s soul with something magical forever. Emily disappeared into the beams of an unreal, magical glow. This radiance is forever etched in Maerlin’s heart, as is Emily’s fabulous beauty.
Only a miracle saved her, and she did not know who summoned him. In the fog of the sea, another indescribably beautiful face of a young man flashed before her for a moment, and she realized that he had saved her.
Maerlin gripped the small gold cross tightly in her hand and headed towards the house.
DIARY MAERLIN
WOUND OF MYSTERY
Emily, lovely Emily. This name is forever etched in my heart.
How many years have passed since she appeared before me as a vision, but I knew that now I would never forget her face, full of fabulous beauty and incomprehensible to me, but wonderful magic.
A sweet image has remained in my soul forever, and it now lives in me, inside me, in the very depths of my consciousness and burns my soul with the same fire in which the portrait of my mother burned.
Together with her beauty, in my memory, it remained forever my terrible bloody scar, which almost killed the heart of a very young girl, the face of the devil in clothes black like the darkness of the night and bloody eyes sparkling with terrible anger.
He was horror itself, but what a terrible secret, perhaps, imprinted in his fiery eyes. Still, I would like to think that he also has a heart, and behind the flame of his eyes hides the pain and sorrow of a lonely soul.
I do not know how I saw it in the fiery eyes clouded with malice and cruelty, I myself did not fully understand this, but perhaps a guess about the secret came to me because at the sight of me there was only a gap of unprecedented and unnatural kindness flashed for a moment in the fiery gleam of his bloody eyes. Most likely, I realized this because from the same blow of cruel fate my own heart was broken. No, I never knew love, and at the same time I loved the hopelessly and passionately beautiful face, the owner of which I dreamed of being, the face of a fabulous ghost from the sea cliffs, the face of Emily, my mother.
For females, the burning desire of my whole life has ignited in me since I saw the beautiful portrait of the unique Emily. I wanted to be like her. Did I know then that an unpredictable fate prepares me for a special fate, and with it a beauty that surpasses the beauty of my dreams, and I do not know, fortunately or not.
If only I could be that wonderful little girl again, charming and not knowing the painful memories. Then I was carefree, kind and cheerful, but even then an incomprehensible anxiety and some kind of painful thoughtfulness, unusual at this age, arose in my soul. I was looking for an answer to the passionate appeal of my soul, to the frantic feelings in my heart, but I could not find it, then there was only one thing left – my all-consuming call to adventure. Nevertheless, I lived a calm and measured life in our little house by the sea. Outwardly, I seemed carefree, and even then there was not a shadow of calm in my soul, as if I felt in advance everything that had to happen to me, so that later I would not be at all afraid of it.
I remember all my feelings and always relive them, I remember Klara. Her kindness, as well as a strange and inexplicable resemblance to my mother, although not as bright and strong as mine.
Clara has always loved me very much. I also loved her as much as I could. Emily took all my dreams, delight and admiration, and I gave to Clara all that tender love that was in my soul, and it was preserved in the memory of her.
Clara has always loved to walk by the rocks on the coast. She walked in any weather. Whether the coast was covered with a thick veil of fog, whether the weather was clear and the sea was calm and quiet, or a storm was raging, Clara stood on the rocks and gazed thoughtfully at the sea. Who knows what she saw there, and what her thoughts were busy with in those moments.
I will never understand this. as well as the agony of your own heart. On that day, I heard strange voices and ran out of the house to find Clara. I saw both the bloody demon, and the beautiful ghost of my mother, and the bloody body of Clara by the coastal rocks. Then I understood the power of the cross bequeathed to me many years ago by my mother, and now it will always be a sacred symbol of goodness and my sudden salvation from the mysterious and incomprehensible to me dark rocks.
After Klara’s death, I lived all alone in my small house on a coastal cliff next to the sea and far from people.
I could not entrust my thoughts to anyone, they were too beautiful, and besides, I hated the customs of people to find obscene even in beauty itself. Nevertheless, I had several friends who were hermits like me, although they occasionally had to communicate with other people.
I didn’t know another reason why Clara wanted us to live so far from everyone, but I never regretted it.
I liked our beautiful place with its untouched nature and pure, virgin beauty, untouched by ordinary human life, I loved the magic ring of sleeping rocks, I loved the foggy coast, covered with incomprehensible sadness and longing, I loved the wonderful waves. all the time running away into the endless distance and with a foamy tide, beating against the shore, as well as the charming smooth surface of the sea.
I could fall in love with all seasons, because only here, in my native place, they always acquired extraordinary beauty, or it was the color of their homeland that painted them so. I also loved the hot, wonderful summer with all the colors of the rainbow in its bright and native beauty and the fresh beauty of spring, which forever rejuvenates the earth. I loved them with the same equal vigor as the motley, luxurious, wonderful autumn, as well as the fabulous, but such a cold winter, when through the fogged glass of my window I could look at a fast whirlwind of beautiful snowflakes, full of endless charm and so similar to forever a wonderful and cold legend.