Chapter 1: The Village of Ponies
The wind whispered through the Village of Ponies, carrying a chill that no hearth could chase away. At first glance, the village seemed peaceful—cobblestone paths winding between thatched-roof cottages, smoke curling lazily from chimneys, children chasing one another in the open fields. Yet beneath this calm, stories of longing and sorrow threaded through the hearts of its people.
Among them lived a couple, married for over forty years. Their names were known to all, not for wealth or fame, but because of the quiet tragedy that clung to their home like a shadow. For decades, they had longed for a child—a spark to fill the emptiness of their lives. They had traveled far and wide, seeking blessings from wise healers, sages, and mysterious seers, yet each journey returned them home with empty arms and heavier hearts.
The villagers watched their struggles with a mixture of pity and curiosity. Many felt deep sympathy for the couple, offering gifts of fruit or bread, kind words over the garden fence, or quiet prayers for their fortune to change. "May your home be filled one day," the elders would say, eyes gentle and understanding.
But not all shared this compassion. Some whispered cruel jokes that cut sharper than any knife. "A fowl that never lays eggs," they sneered. "Forty years and still nothing but emptiness." Children repeated the jeers without understanding their sting. Even neighbors who smiled politely sometimes shook their heads, muttering about wasted prayers and barren luck.
Yet behind their gentle smiles, the couple carried a secret hope far greater than anyone could imagine. Within them stirred the life of a child unborn—a living angel, delicate and silent, yet filled with a presence that hummed faintly through their hearts. Its existence was invisible to the villagers, yet it changed everything, binding the couple's fate together and whispering of a destiny that not even the calmest days of the village could contain.
The couple endured the mockery and sorrow with quiet grace, their kindness like a lantern in the dark, drawing those who had hearts to feel. Even the cruelest villagers sometimes hesitated to cross them, unable to harden themselves fully against such steadfast goodness.
Unbeknownst to anyone, this longing—the empty space within their hearts—was not simply misfortune. It was a spark, a presence that could awaken forces far beyond understanding. Forces cold, patient, and powerful. And soon, the stillness of the Village of Ponies would be shattered by a presence that carried frost in her touch and shadows in her eyes: