The Kingdom of Lost Time
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, where twilight and dawn wove a seamless tapestry of time and reality sometimes wandered off the well-trodden tracks, there existed a land that was known as 'Alzara'. No one was quite certain if it was the kingdom that was peculiar or if it were its inhabitants. Alzara was a kingdom where time flowed differently, it was known as the Kingdom of Lost Time.
At the heart of Alzara, there stood a grand castle, nestled against the backdrop of a crystal blue sea constantly lapping at the pristine white cliffs. The castle, a massive structure carved from pure white marble that somehow always appeared golden in the perpetual state of sunset that the kingdom seemed to languish in. Living inside this castle was King Selvyn, a wise and kindly king with a long, flowing white beard and a crown nestled cockily askew atop his greying hair.
Despite Alzara's picturesque beauty, the kingdom was fraught with its own peculiar problems. The main one was time or, as the inhabitants often found, the lack of it. You see, time in Alzara didn't adhere to common rules. It slowed and quickened whimsically, hours flew by like minutes, and minutes stretched into days. Amidst these topsy-turvy timelines, the people of Alzara adapted, their lives improvising around unpredictability.
One day, in the month-long afternoon, King Selvyn discovered that time was escaping quicker than usual. Days were vanishing into thin air, and the kingdom was spiralling towards a state of eternal night. Recognising the graveness of the situation, the king decided to consult the Oracle of Time.
The Oracle of Time, an enigmatic figure even in the unique world of Alzara, lived at the edge of the kingdom. The journey was not particularly dangerous, but it was unpredictable. One could reach the Oracle in an instant, or the journey could take years.
King Selvyn decided to undertake the journey himself, packing a small bag of provisions, he bade goodbye to his kingdom. Armed with his wisdom and courage, he stepped onto the path leading to the Oracle of Time.
The journey to the Oracle, as the king suspected, was not linear. Temporal winds buffeted him, years whipped by him in moments, decades regressed to seconds. But he trudged on, steadfast against the places where time fractured and fissured around him.
Finally reaching the Oracle's dwelling, a modest cottage standing against the ever-crashing waves of time, King Selvyn was greeted warmly by the Oracle. 'Time awaits no one', she said cryptically, observing the visibly older King.
Exhausted but undeterred, King Selvyn conveyed his plea for assistance. The Oracle, eerily quiet, contemplated the King’s predicament. She then provided him with a small hourglass, the sands within trickling slowly. 'This is The Measure,' she said. 'It is up to you to command it correctly. Remember, time is not one's servant, it's a river that one must learn to navigate.'
Filled with gratitude, yet slightly confused, King Selvyn returned to his kingdom. Holding The Measure, he addressed the expectantly waiting kingdom, conveying the Oracle's wisdom. With a deep breath, he gently flipped The Measure, the sand shifting, and a peculiar thing happened. Time began to fall in sync. Hours passed as hours, days as days. There was morning, afternoon and night. Time had found its rhythm.
The Kingdom of Alzara rejoiced, they were no longer the 'Kingdom of Lost Time,' but they were a kingdom that found its time. The King, whose wisdom and courage had saved them from eternal darkness, was hailed as a hero. The Kingdom of Alzara lived harmoniously under King Selvyn's rule, flourishing in a realm where time, finally, was no longer an enemy.
And so, the peculiar kingdom thrived, ensconced amidst the embrace of flowing time, turning a new leaf in their existence, a harmony achieved between the people and the rhythms of time. They had learned that time, with all its abstractions and whimsies, was not a foe but a companion in the long, winding journey of life.