Have you ever heard of the legend of Mira? People usually dismiss it as a folklore from the village by the mountains. Listen close as I tell you of her.
There was once a girl who loved human presence. She could never imagine a world extinct of the human race. She always believed that there was good in the heart of man for man was made in the likeness of the gods. There was always a divine radiance that she carried in her heart and to each man, woman, or child she met she gave away some. There was magic in her smile. She lighted up the streets she passed by. She was beauty personified, every man’s desire.
One day, she met a man passing by her village who was a bearer of melancholy. It was so strange to her that she was charmed by it, by him. She began to follow him down the steep valley behind the village. She did not contemplate the consequences of chasing this new feeling she began to feel in her heart. It resembled the feeling of love that she was so familiar with yet it was different. She knew that she wanted to be with him and learn of that feeling he carried in his heart. She didn’t care that she might have to go against the world to be with him.
The man allowed her to walk beside him for his melancholy had found company. One of the two was going to drag the other into their world but nobody knew who. As they walked in silence, their hearts grew closer so did their bodies. She opened up to him layer by layer like a flower than blossoms to the rays of the moonlight. She offered up herself like a lamb at the altar of love. When they reached the end of the valley, he told her that she couldn’t follow him anymore. At the sound of those words, she fell to the ground like a wounded animal and the night heard a loud scream for she felt a sharp pain as though someone had stuck their hand inside her and tore her heart.
The man pulled his cloak over his head and walked his way without turning to look back at her. Her heart began to be filled with that which she felt charmed by—melancholy. She could no longer go back to the village. She fled the valley and ran into the cold mountains. Time went by, the sun had witnessed many winters. Familiars faded behind the veils of memory. She had withdrawn herself from the world, from everything starry and light. Nobody knew what happened to Mira in the deep woods that covered the mountains. It is believed that the villagers still hear a sharp cry on the coldest winter when the moon is at its fullest. Some believe that it is Achlys, the goddess of misery and sadness, who took the form of a man and lead the girl to her doom for she despised the gift of happiness that Mira carried in her heart.