The Lost City of Morodonia
Once upon a time, in a world far different from ours, was a city untouched by man, unseen by civilised eyes. It was called Morodonia, the city that never existed but was always there for those who believed.
Young Elara was such a believer. Day and night she would listen to her grandmother weave tales around the lost city, with bated breath, cherishing every uttered word. Being a young girl of only ten, her innocence unspoiled by the harsh realities of life, she held the existence of Morodonia close to her heart. Some called it fanciful. Some scoffed. But Elara, wise beyond her years, smiled and held her silence.
Then there was Einar, his coppery hair glinting in the sun, a lad slightly older than Elara leading a life untethered by societal norms. Instead of being drawn to tales of knights and princesses, Einar found solace in the wilderness. Aster flowers and robin's warbles moved his spirit in ways nothing else did. When Einar first heard about Morodonia, a bond of companionship built around the quaint, old story, the lost city captured his heart.
One bright morning as rays of a golden sun splashed down on the vibrant hamlet, Elara and Einar felt an immense urge to seek the lost city out. To them, it wasn't about proving that Morodonia existed; it was to witness its splendour firsthand. With a shared nod indicating an unspoken agreement, they embarked on their journey holding onto a cryptic map that Elara's grandmother had drawn.
The journey was fraught with perils. Difficult terrains, treacherous cliffs, and untouched forests met them at every turn. They maneuvered, however, with each obstacle driving them to persevere further, fueled by hope and shared ambition. Days turned into weeks as they navigated through the wild, guided by their instinct and the stories they had heard about the paths to Morodonia.
It was during one such starlit night that they found an uncannily familiar setting described vividly in one of the stories. They weren't mistaken. Before them lay huge, ornate gates hidden in the shadows of the towering forest. Down the silvery path led to what they had sought - The Lost City of Morodonia.
With heartbeats matching the rhythmic hum of the forest, they stepped into Morodonia. It was everything their grandmother had described and more. Exquisite rooftops touched the clear azure skies, majestic palaces dotting the vast expanse. Creatures of beautiful species they had never seen before mingled with humans, a picture of harmonious existence. What captured their hearts the most was Serenity Fountain at the city's heart; its constant gurgling giving a soothing rhythm to the city's vibrance.
The city dwellers welcomed them with open arms and were ecstatic about the children who had succeeded in reaching Morodonia. Food was delicious, the music enchanting, and the love they received, overwhelming. Elara and Einar explored every nook and corner, their young minds drinking in the city's wonders and mysteries.
A month slipped by unnoticed as the city's magic enrapturing the young explorers. One dawn, as Elara and Einar stood by the Serenity Fountain, they felt a strange twinge of sadness. The city was marvelous, but they missed their home, their people. But could they ever find a way back?
It was then they remembered the old song their grandmother used to hum, a song of farewell embodying a deep longing for home. As they began humming the melody, a shimmering portal materialized before their eyes, radiant in the early morning light. Hesitant but hopeful, they stepped in, holding hands.
With a gentle whoosh, they found themselves standing at the edge of their hamlet under their familiar scarlet dawn sky. Their homes called out to them in a silent welcome. Their adventure had come to an end. Elara and Einar never spoke about Morodonia to anyone else, keeping it as a secret between them.
Years have passed. Elara and Einar are elders now. While the former spends her time knitting tales of a lost city, the latter takes children on adventures through wild trails. Some call their tales fanciful, and some scoff. Elara and Einar, wise beyond their years now, smile and hold their silence. The city never existed, and yet, it was always there for the ones who believed.