Princess of the Stars

by Catherine Knutsson


In the beginning, all was dark.  Night was alone, and walked the black expanse of the heavens, searching for someone to walk with.  He found no one, and over time, the depth of his loneliness overwhelmed him, and he wept with sorrow.  His first tear became the sun.  This second, the moon, and the third, the most beautiful tear ever wept, became his daughter, the Princess of the Stars, who danced through the heavens and was Night’s greatest joy.

Every night, Night would watch the Princess of the Stars brush her long, shimmering hair.  Sparks flew off into the darkness with each brushstroke, and became stars, or comets, or planets.  Night sang as his daughter brushed her hair, and his voice became the song of the celestial winds.  Some nights, his daughter would sing with him and their voices would become a shower of stars, or the ripples of the aurora borealis, washing the heavens with its light, or the sound of nothing at all.

But one night, while her father walked the heavens, the Princess of the Stars heard a new song.  She set her brush down and listened.  The new song came from far below, and in its melody were words of love and loss.  She had never heard of such things, but once she knew that love could be lost and love could be found, she could think of nothing else.

“Father, what is love?” she said upon his return.

Night blinked, and his blink became the first day.  “Nothing you need worry about.  Go back to brushing your hair, my daughter.”

But strains of the new song haunted her mind until she began to hum the song to herself, and the more she hummed, the more the song wound itself around her heart, squeezing it tight until she vowed she would find a way to catch the song and weave it into a necklace of starlight.

The next night, while her father walked through the heavens, she took the sickle of the moon and began to cut her hair.  Great rippling strands of light washed across the heavens, so when she cut the last strand, she was no longer bound to the heavens and began to fall.  Down and down she fell, with streams of stardust trailing behind her and her father’s voice calling out in anguish as he watched what his daughter had done.

But the Princess of the Stars didn’t care, for the farther she fell, the closer the song was, the song of love and loss, and she wished to claim that song for herself.

#

Wolf sat on the hilltop, watching the bright light descend from the heavens.  A web of sparks trailed behind the bright light, and when the bright light fell below the pines, the sparks clung to the night, glistening like frost-points.

Wolf rose.  The bright light was a wondrous thing; he should like to see where it fell.

As Wolf wound through the pines, he heard many things: the soft susurrus of Night crying, the haunting lament of the loons, and the whispered steps of the Dark One, searching for the bright light.  Wolf could smell the Dark One’s taint on the air, the stench of decaying skin, of rotting flesh.

Wolf broke into a lope.  He must arrive first.  Something so bright could not fall into the grips of something so dark.

Flaming pines stood like great torches, forming an avenue that led towards the great light’s resting place.  Wolf ignored the hiss of his paws as they struck the embers of the pine-fire, for there, at the end of the avenue of flaming pine, sat a girl, with moonlight hair, with eyes of night, with teeth of star.  She stared up towards the heavens and wept.

She was the most beautiful creature Wolf had ever seen, and for her sorrow, Wolf sang.

She turned her night-dark eyes to him.  “I have heard your song before,” she said.  “Come closer, and lay your head on my lap.  Only your song can ease my heart, for I fear it will break into as many pieces as there are stars in my father’s realm.”

“Why will it break?” asked Wolf.

“See there?” she said, pointing towards the great bands of light that shimmered in the heavens.  “That is what is left of my hair.  I cut it from my head so I could come down to hear your song and now, that is all that remains of me in my father’s realm.  I can never return.”

So Wolf began to sing of his world, of walking the pine forest in autumn, of snow in winter, of stars falling on a moonlit lake, and the girl ceased her weeping.  But, as Wolf closed his eyes and moved close to rest his head on the girl’s lap, the Dark One swooped down, scooping the Princess of the Stars into his arms, and stealing her away.

Wolf tipped his head towards the heavens and howled until he thought his heart would break into every star in Night’s sky.

Night heard Wolf’s song.  “Now you know what it is to have a loved one stolen from you,” he said.

“She came of her own choosing.”

“That is so,” Night answered, “but knowing it does not lessen the sting in my heart.  Would it in yours?”

“No,” Wolf said.  “It would not.”  Wolf shut his eyes and howled, a howl so long and sad that Night joined him and the heavens shuddered with pain.

“Stop,” the stars begged.  “You must stop, or we will fall to the earth.”

“Do it,” Night said, “so the land may know the anguish of a father’s loss.”

“No,” Wolf said.  “Stay where you are, but give me Birds of Dawn to bring light to this world so I might find the Princess of the Stars.”

“Done,” said Night.  “And if you do not, may the Birds of Dawn peck your eyes from your skull so you never see daylight again.”

#

We search the air, we Birds of Dawn.  We search the sky and the clouds and the boughs of pine.  We glide on wings of red and gold, of blue and vermillion, and below us, the wolf runs, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, never tiring, never tiring.

We search the ages, all ages, of before and beyond, for the Dark One cares not for time, and neither do we.

We search – we search!

#

First: the Dark One hid the Princess of the Stars at the bottom of a lake amid water-wrack and snails, but when Wolf howled, the water shook and the water-wrack parted so moonbeams shone down on the Princess of the Stars.

Wolf dove in, but when he reached the bottom of the lake, all that remained of the Princess of the Stars was a single teardrop, crystalline in the cold.

Second: the Dark One hid the Princess of the Stars in cave deep in the mountains, sheltered by layers of heavy snow.  The Princess shook with cold until her shaking caused a mighty avalanche.  The Birds of Dawn bore Wolf to the cave, but when they arrived, all that remained of the Princess of the Stars was a thread unraveled from the stitching on her moose-skin dress.

Third: the Dark One hid the Princess of Stars at the edge of a mighty volcano that spit fire and scalded her skin until her skin wept.  She begged for water and when the Dark One brought it, she threw the water into the volcano and extinguished its fire.  Wolf saw the great stream of smoke and ran as fast as he could, but when he arrived, all that remained of the princess was a smoldering doe-skin shoe.

Fourth: the Dark One hid the Princess of the Stars in a bank of clouds, high above the world.  “There is no way out now,” he said, “and you are so ugly, so scalded and bald, that no one would want you anyhow.  You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you away.  I should, but I’m not tired of you yet.”

“But I am tired of you,” the Princess of the Stars said as she reached into the cloud and withdrew a bolt of lightning.  She threw the bolt of lightning at the Dark One and broke him into a thousand tiny pieces that scattered on the wind.  Some dropped to the land below.  Some flew into the heavens above.  Some remained in the clouds, lurking there until it rained, but all of the pieces, glittering and black, contained the essence of the Dark One.

The Birds of Dawn lifted Wolf up into the clouds and placed him next to the Princess of the Stars.  “You are wounded,” Wolf said.

“I will heal.”

“You are tired.”

“I will rest.”

“You are sad.”

She smiled and her teeth of stars glittered in the moonlight.  “Sing me your song and I will forget.”

So Wolf sat down on the cloud and sang.  The Princess of the Stars rested her head on his thick pelt as the Birds of Dawn raced through the ages, gathering the pieces of the Dark One in their beaks and spreading them through the heavens.  Those pieces are still there today, eating stars at every chance, hoping each one is the princess who broke him apart.

And, if you look northwards, you’ll find the Princess of the Stars, safe, resting her hand on the Great Wolf’s pelt, listening to his song through all the ages that once were, now are, and will be again.

More stories like this by topic: , , , ,