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The lost city of gold.
Men of different places travelled through the seven seas in search of this promised gold. What had started out as a simple venture due to the piqued interest, ended in bloodshed. Brothers, soldiers, families died for it and it all went in vain because the gold was rather invisible. They'd left empty handed, without even a hand to console them due to how they'd lost that privilege in the war caused. They'd told themselves that it was a curse that spread and killed people and gave up on its search so they could live on knowing that they'd at least saved a few lives even if it meant that they had to give up a few of theirs for it.
And soon, the lost city of gold became a folklore of sorts. Something a mother used to make her kids sleep at night. All was well this way.
Then came a man, with eyes filled with dreams and bravery who stole it all one day.
This of course was not left unnoticed by people. How could it? Why wouldn't someone write a story about someone that great.
"Do you believe any of this?" Arya, the man asked.
"You don't? Didn't the old man say that he had some statue built for him? Arya spoke, leaning on a shelf with a book in his hand.
Varsha simply shrugged it off, "If he really was great enough to have a statue, why have we never heard about him?"
Arya rolled his eyes, diverting away from the topic and towards the old man again who kept looking around the room.
"Why did he take all the gold? Even after people told him it was cursed?"
"His life was a curse too. His fate was doomed to bring him destruction from the very start. But, his mother protected him from his own doom. She'd stayed with him throughout the darkest of nights and helped him fight in the brightest of days. How long would she live if she'd come in the way of his fate? So she was taken away too."
Ingalgi spoke, silencing all the mutters in the room. "On her deathbed, which came unfortunately early, she didn't have a single rupee to give to her son. In fact, she had one single piece of advice to give to him. She'd asked him to die as a wealthy king."
There was a sentiment to his story of course that stinged Varsha. Maybe it was the fact that she too yearned for her mother who'd left her too early to do God knows what. It was her aunt that took her up, even after everyone called her a burden. Maybe that was why she'd felt a warm feeling that she knew she shouldn't feel when she saw her aunt. Maybe that's why she felt it right now.
