To all underestimated languages, because a language is the soul of a culture. And should be honored as such.
Once upon a time, there lived a witch. A greedy and malevolent witch. That witch lived at the juncture between the fall of a great empire. The greatest of empires. And the birth of a republic. A very small republic. A republic based on survival. A republic of small victories and deliberate defeats. A republic standing in the way of a new empire. A magnificent empire. A victorious empire. The empire of the right victory.
But, back to this republic based on survival. In this fallen republic, every day the citizens fought for their lives. Because the fall of the greatest of empires had been absolutely disastrous. It had eroded down to the magical structure of its imperial society. Now, all enchanted creatures were fleeing the wreckage.
And no more magic soon led to no more food. At least temporarily. Indeed, the fall of the greatest of empires had given way to a famine. A republic-wide famine. Because republics should never stand in the way of empires. And so, the citizens of the republic spent all their free time looking for food. Anything really. Any amount. Just something to eat. Please. For months on end, many survived only on bread and water. Until the republic finally adapted to its new non-magical and ordinary state. A state of small victories. A state lacking ambition.
But while every body was busy surviving. Busy looking for food. Anything to eat, really. Any amount would do. While every body was busy trying to feed their family, the greedy and malevolent witch, on the contrary, was hustling to implement a truly evil plan. And certainly, she had to hurry, because all the supernatural creatures of the empire were eloping. Yet, she had her greedy and malevolent eye set on something very rare: eternal beauty. And the only way to obtain this very rare feature was to find a couple of Humo birds. Humo birds, the kindest of all living beings. The wisest of all. An imperial specie. So, while every body was busy chasing after any last bit of food in the republic, the greedy and malevolent witch was hunting the last couple of Humo birds of the disappearing empire.
In her quest, the malevolent witch took her avarice to the city farthest east of the republic. Andijan. The nesting place of Humo birds. That’s indeed where the object of her greed had been last identified to reside. The last couple of Humo birds of the empire. Humo birds, the kindest of all living beings. The wisest of all. Therefore, once in Andijan, the greedy and malevolent witch went up the most isolated cliff. Moved only by her corrupt heart, she braved the strongest of winds, climbed the steepest of hills, until she reached the nest of the last couple of Humo birds’ in the republic.
That day was a bright sunny day. The skies were endless. As endless as a noble empire’s reach. Therefore, that day, the last couple of Humo birds of the empire. Humo birds, the kindest and wisest of all living beings. The last couple of Humo birds of the greatest of empires was out and about, spreading knowledge, awarding kindness. But the absence of the couple of Humo birds did not really matter to the greedy and malevolent witch. Indeed, it was ultimately not what she was after. What she was after would be found in their nest. The nest of the Humo birds couple. The last Humo bird couple of a great empire. The greatest of empires. The last shelter for Humo birds, the kindest of all living beings. The wisest of all. An imperial specie.
What the greedy and malevolent witch was after would be found in their nest. So, she took her avarice with her to the nest of the last Humo birds couple. This imperial artifact. This sacred object. The last of the Humo birds’ nest in the republic. A fallen republic. She approached it. The sacred nest. And she peaked in, ecstatic to find the very reason for her perilous and foolish journey. A vain journey, undertaken while all the other citizens of the republic were busy looking for food. There, in the sacred nest. The cradle of all imperial species. She found a single Humo bird feather. And not just any Humo bird feather. Usually, all Humo bird feathers are white and gold. All imperial species are born from a Humo bird feather. All magical creatures originate from a Humo bird feather. A white and gold Humo bird feather fallen in a sacred nest.
But this feather was different. This feather strayed from the rule. Because this feather was the feather of the last Humo bird couple of the empire. The greatest of empires, but a disappearing empire, nonetheless. Accordingly, it had been befouled by such an unprecedented event: the collapse of the last protector of enchanted creatures on the planet. Therefore, this Humo bird feather. The last Humo bird feather of the greatest of empires. Humo birds, the kindest of all living beings. The wisest of all. This precious feather. It had turned sapphire blue and gold. What’s more, if you looked closely, you could see the ends of the feather curl: this feather was curly!
The greedy and malevolent witch was hence witness of a double miracle: she was in the presence of the last Humo bird feather of the greatest of empires and a uniquely enchanted feather at that! A feather the colors of which had never been seen before. The only feather in the history of Humo bird couples which was not white and gold. A curly feather which was sapphire blue and gold. A noble feather. Belonging to a noble empire. The noblest of empires.
Witnessing this double miracle would have satisfied any normally constituted human being. However, this individual was far from being normally constituted: her greed and malevolence were unparalleled. So, the witch selfishly proceeded with her truly evil plan. She climbed up the Humo bird’s nest. A sacred object. The cradle of all imperial species. And she laid her covetous hand on the precious feather. The most precious feather of all. This miracle. This once in several imperial lifetimes’ occurence: a sapphire blue and gold feather. A unique feather. The feather from the last couple of Humo birds of the greatest of empires!
The moment her greedy fingers touched this miracle, a terrible event unfolded. That such a lowly – even though magical – being would touch such a celestial object as a Humo bird feather was the ultimate blasphemy. As a result, this insolent act shattered the last remaining strengths of the greatest of empires. This tragedy resonated within the soul of all remaining magical creatures of the republic. Except maybe within the soul of the greedy and malevolent witch whose soul had already been eaten by avarice, making her immune to her own atrocities. When the insolent act radiated within the souls of the last Humo bird couple of the greatest of empires, something happened that only ever happens every 700 years or so. The last couple of Humo birds did something that no Humo birds in the history of magical birds ever did before. They emitted a cry of pain. A cry of pain so intense and so sad that it pierced the ears of the greedy and malevolent witch. Who was now also partly deaf. Since no bird in the history of Humo birds had ever emitted such an intense and sad sound before, Humo birds being only known for spreading kindness and awarding knowledge, this led to another unprecedented event. Upon emitting that dreadful sound. That cursed sound. That once in the history of imperial species sound. The Humo bird couple instantaneously consumed itself to ashes. Something which only ever happened every 700 years or so. However, this couple of Humo birds. Humo birds, the kindest of all living beings. The wisest of all. But the last couple of Humo birds of the greatest of empires, were not even 70 years old! Still, that beautiful day honored by endless skies, the last two Humo birds of the fallen republic were devoured by magical flames. Flames usually a symbol of rebirth. This time flames of destruction. Flames of annihilation. For at least the next twenty years or so.
And this is the story of the demise of the greatest of empires, provoked by the greed and malevolence of an old witch, obsessed with eternal beauty. A demise that opened the way for the establishment of a fallen Republic. A republic based on survival. A republic of small ambition. One crippled by starvation for seventeen years before finally finding its rhythm.
Farangiz Marcombe
Ça, j’aime !