to do, how to act, and, in the end, with a bitter sigh, he put it in his pocket. So infinitely happy Kiar had never been before, and he wanted to go back there, to merge with the sea, to become part of it. But the time had not come yet. Amalu was waiting for him. Maybe someday he would use the mermaid stone – but not now. Not now. And as always, the thought of Amalu led him out of his stupor. He remembered that it was necessary to find a way out of the Valley, remembered how far he ran away from the mossy rocks.
But somewhere deep in his soul he knew that it was impossible to get away from them. They would stand there so inviolably and menacingly, on the border of the Valley and the Kingdom. They would look at him sternly from a distance, and at their very tops the gray mist would swirl treacherously. They would not call for him, as opposed to the sea, but Kiar had already made his choice and went toward them.
Going back was hard. He was so tired, his legs were leaden, and heavy sleep strove to close his eyelids. Kiar thought about Amalu, and that he should not fall down and sleep – the very idea frightened him because, otherwise, he would not get out of here.
The Valley held him and would not let go. It seemed as if it were saying to him: “Stay here with me, listen to the water, listen to the earth, listen to the clouds and you will be happy forever!” But Kiar stubbornly went ahead.
Kiar was not far away from the rocks. He could see the patches of moss and hear gurgling streams, but then he smelled a distinctive scent; it was warm and lovely. He stood mesmerized, unable to make a single step. What was that scent? So familiar and so dear? Amalu! Yes, that was exactly the smell of her hair, her beautiful, soft hair. But she could not be here! Kiar followed the smell; it seemed to waft from the huge tree nearby, its thick, old branches intricately intertwined and its trunk so huge that an entire house could be in it. However, the smell was not from the tree – but from the flower that grew on its roots. The closer Kiar was to the flower, the more potent was the smell. Rose! It was a rose, exactly the same as in the hair of a dancing gypsy from the book of Amalu.
“I have to take it with me! How overjoyed Amalu would be! She wanted this rose so much!”, he said to himself.
Still enchanted from the scent of the flower, Kiar plucked the rose, and its sharp peaky thorns dug into his palm. Drops of salty blood watered the earth, and it let out a mighty and terrible cry. A cry that made Kiaŕs hair stand. A cry that shook the Valley, agitated the sea and made the rocks tremble. The river turned black, and the whole Valley fell silent, as if to strike. The cry was heard from all sides, and clouds in the sky formed a huge vortex that expanded faster and faster. The sky whirled, reminding Kiar of the clumps of gray fog. And then a figure of a woman began to emerge from the mist. She was beautiful and terrible at the same time. It was impossible to look away. But looking at her hurt his eyes; she glowed with a bright light in such a way that only the outlines of her body and hair were engraved in Kiaŕs memory.
“How dare you, a mortal, disturb my peace?”, asked a deep voice, which reflected from the rocks. “How dare you disrupt a particle of my soul? Is it not enough that you were happy in the sea? I, the queen of the Valley, the great Norna, called after you, allowed you to be here and be happy, and you betrayed me! For this, I curse you! Your soul will not know peace, and you will never be happy, neither you nor the one you love!”
The fog covered Norna and started to fill the Valley. Kiar, unable to move, was watching how the wall of gray fog was rushing towards him. His arm ached, and he looked down. There laid a rose with its thorns ingrained deeply into his skin. “Amalu!”, he thought, when the fog engulfed him.
“Kiar, Kiar! You’re back! What’s the matter, can you hear me? What happened? O Lord!”
Kiar opened his heavy eyelids and saw Amalu, his beloved Amalu. But something had changed, she had become an adult, her hair had darkened, she was taller and more beautiful, but gray eyes with golden rays looked at him with unchanged love. And the lovely scent of her hair was soothing.
“Where am I, Amalu? What happened? Norna?! She will come after us, she will take away our happiness!”
Kiar tried to get up.
“Hush, hush, darling. You’re in the Kingdom, in my house. Everything will be fine.”
“The rose – where is it?”, Kiar whispered, struggling, feeling that energy was leaving him.
“It’s here, with you.”
“Oh, what have I done! I have stolen it for you,” he said.
Then Kiar became dizzy again, consciousness fading, and he began rushing through the waves of a raging sea, surrounded by the sea mermaids.
Kiar had suddenly appeared one misty gray morning. Amalu saw him lying prostrate and unconscious at her window. His hands were bruised and bleeding, and next to him was a rose. It was the same rose as in the picture from the book of her childhood. The joy of meeting was replaced by fear: what if he had already died? What had happened? But Kiar was breathing. Amalu took him quickly into the house and put him on the bed that had once belonged to her grandmother. In the house, little had changed over the last ten years. Only a chair by the fireplace, where the old lady loved to sit, was empty.
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