The Sculpture and the Crone

     Once upon a time, there was a compassionate girl...


The girl had so much heart, she meddled with the Gods of love. Playing games around there sacred ceremonies and poking fun at the seriousness of Fate Handling. So they tried to rid the girl of her large heart and decided to send her false suitors and mates. 

As the years passed her heart dwindled...

And where her heart sat only a small ice block remained. A stumpy remnant where her love used to lie. Frozen in time.

She became a bitter Crone. She grew feeble of this.

She traveled to the highest mountain she could scale and at the top she declared... roaring...

She would never love again.

She would never fall smitten.

Never would she be punished by infatuation.

No enchantments.

No fervor.

No sentiments.

NEVER.

Tears cascading down her pale, pain bitten cheeks.

And with her vow conceded, she crumbled to her knees.

For years she sat atop that mountain cursing the heavens and the hands of love. Her howling so loud ALL the heavens heard. Her shrieking finally reaching the ears and the compassionate heart cords of Fate himself. He knew he must come to aid. 

He felt the pain of the cold Crone and cried for her mercy. He wept until his tears hardened to diamonds. Exhaling, short and powerful with sorrow... breathing life into ancient oaks. His sobbing shook the consecrated grounds and with each thump, precious gems and metals came to calm his misery.

The whimpering of the dying Crone echoed loudly in his heart.

He took these tools from anguish and chiseled the her a Perfect Love. Once his creation was sculpted, he pulled fire from deep within his belly and whispered the burning flame into the sculptures chest. 

Fate bestowed this gift to her with great haste... and though hesitant the Crone took the love graciously; igniting the fire within herself as well.

The fire defying the very death the Crone once faced.

She burned to the Maiden.

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