Thirty Years Ago
The small wooden house smelled of damp earth and boiled roots. Chris sat on the uneven floor while his mother pushed the front door open.
A harsh, rattling cough shook her thin frame, so she quickly covered her mouth with a worn cloth and forced a warm smile. They did not have much money, and their meals were always small. Chris was perfectly contented anyway. Today was his seventh birthday.
His mother walked across the cramped room and knelt directly down to his eye level. She hid something behind her back.
"Chris, I have a birthday present for you," she whispered.
He grinned from ear to ear. She pulled her hands forward and presented a thin magazine.
"Ta-daa. I bought you a comic book."
Chris stared at the cover in complete surprise. Bold letters spelled out "The Adventure of the Great Wizard Thrudora Volume 1."
"This was originally a storybook," his mother explained, a bright, excited look in her eyes. "A comic version was just published. When I was a child, I really wanted the original storybook of Thrudora. I loved reading about her. I cannot believe her journey will be seen by kids through drawings in this generation."
She paused and smiled. "Happy Birthday, Chris."
She handed the comic to him. Chris read a lot of storybooks, though he had never heard of this specific title. He tilted his head in confusion.
"Mom, who is Thrudora?"
"She is the greatest wizard of all," his mother answered.
"Wizard? What is that?"
His mother sat on the floor beside him. "A wizard is a person who can cast magic."
Chris knew the word magic because his playmates talked about it all the time. He had heard the word Mage as well, so he connected the dots.
"Aren't Mages the ones who cast magic spells?" he asked.
"Yes." His mother nodded. "In our current era, they are called Mages. In ancient times, a person who studied magic to fight monsters and save people was called a Wizard. Did you know people say Thrudora was real thousands of years ago? They even say she might still be alive today."
His eyes widened. "Really?"
"I cannot really be sure," she admitted gently. "There is no official record of her existence. The name Thrudora is just mentioned in village stories across all seven continents. The stories describe a hero who saved their countries thousands of years ago. Those tales were passed down through generations, and the author simply compiled them all to write her adventures into a storybook."
Chris looked down at the cover. "I see. So it's not sure if the story is actually true."
"Yes, and even if she was real, there is no guarantee the stories are completely accurate," his mother said. "There is a chance some parts of the book actually happened in real life. That makes this storybook special."
She placed her right hand over her chest. "For me, I believe her story is true. I believe she is real. Thrudora gave me inspiration when I was a child. You could say I owe her a lot because reading about her journey gave me courage."
Chris looked into his mother's eyes and saw pure, warm honesty. He knew she meant every single word.
They read the first volume together that very afternoon. A new volume hit the local market every month, so his mother saved her copper coins to buy the latest release. They spent the next several months sitting on the floor, flipping the pages and talking about Thrudora's travels. The comic became a huge hit among the neighborhood children.
Then, Volume 10 finally arrived.
His mother rushed through the front door, looking incredibly excited. Thrudora used an unbelievable magic spell in that specific volume.
They opened the book together.
"Look at this, Chris," his mother pointed eagerly at the paper.
The illustration showed a young woman thrusting her arm forward. A glowing ball of energy hovered about a meter away from her palm.
"This is called the Blue Star," his mother announced with pure enthusiasm.
"Blue Star?" Chris asked. "Is it colored blue?"
The comic was printed in cheap black ink on cheap white paper, and there was zero color on the page. His mother had read the original text version decades ago, so she knew the true details.
Chris studied the four panels on the page. In the first panel, the Wizard created the magical ball of energy. In the second panel, she fired the attack. The blast flew high up into the air to create a tall arc. In the third panel, the energy ball began to fall. The fourth panel showed the impact. The monster died instantly from a single hit.
Chris was completely amazed by the sequence. His young mind processed the tactical advantage. It was a very cool magic spell because it could annihilate a giant monster in one shot.
"It is a really amazing magic spell, right?" his mother asked.
"Yeah, because it can kill a scary giant monster in one hit," Chris agreed confidently.
His mother puffed her cheeks out and formed a childish pout.
Chris blinked. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Nothing," she muttered as she looked away toward the window.
Chris was a highly logical boy. He analyzed the pout and realized his mother liked the spell for an entirely different reason. He wanted to know the answer.
"Mom, please tell me," Chris asked. "Why do you like this spell so much?"
She stayed quiet. Chris knew she would not explain it outright, so he had to figure it out himself.
He thought about his mother's personality. She always liked pretty, shiny things in the market windows. He looked back down at the four panels and studied the ink closely. The artist had drawn harsh white lines and little dots around the energy ball to show extreme brightness. It sparkled high in the air when the Wizard released it upward.
His eyes widened because the spell looked incredibly stunning.
"It's pretty," Chris whispered.
His mother turned her head in surprise. Her pout vanished.
"I knew you would get it, Chris," she said, her eyes lighting up again. She picked up the comic book and held the pages open in front of him. "The Blue Star shines bright in the sky. It looks like jewelry. You get it, right? The Blue Star is the most beautiful magic spell in the world. I love it."
She stared at the drawing for a long time that day, her eyes shining with quiet joy.
Two years later, the small wooden house fell completely silent.
His mother lay flat on her bed and coughed violently. Her chest rattled with every jagged breath. The incurable disease had finally broken her body. It was a miracle she had even lived this long, and she simply could not take it any longer.
Chris sat on the floor beside the mattress. He wanted to cry until his throat bled. He forced his jaw shut and stopped himself.
"Chris, my boy," she rasped.
"Mom, don't worry about me," Chris said quickly. "I'll be brave. I'll be fine."
She offered a weak, tired smile. "Let's read 'The Adventure of the Great Wizard Thrudora' together."
She lacked the strength to sit up. Chris climbed onto the mattress and lay down right beside her. He held the heavy stack of comic books and flipped the pages one by one. They started with Volume 1. They read through the old battles and the long journeys until they finally reached Volume 10.
Chris closed the tenth book and reached for the next pile. "We're going to read Volume 11 now."
His mother rested a frail hand over his wrist to stop him.
"It's fine, Chris," she whispered. "I'm satisfied now."
He looked at her in confusion. "Why?"
"I think I cannot last another whole volume."
A heavy, crushing weight dropped onto Chris's chest. His lungs tightened so much he could barely draw air.
"Open it again," she asked softly. "Show me when the Blue Star was cast."
Chris scrambled to open Volume 10. He found the page with the four panels.
His mother stared at the black ink. "When I was a child, I always dreamed of seeing a real Blue Star with my own eyes. I wanted to see how bright it was. I wanted to see how pretty it shines in the sky."
She slowly turned her head to look at him.
"I cannot fulfill this dream anymore," she said.
Tears spilled over her eyelashes and cut wet tracks down her pale cheeks. She sobbed. Her shoulders shook under the thin blanket.
"I'm sorry, Chris, for leaving you this early."
Chris could not hold the dam back. The tears broke loose. He cried openly, his vision blurring as the wet drops fell onto the comic book pages.
"It's not your fault, Mom," Chris cried, wiping his face aggressively with his sleeve. "Don't be sorry. I told you I'm brave. I can take care of myself."
His mother took a shallow, painful breath and stopped crying.
"Chris," she whispered. "I want you to do a favor for me."
"What is it?" he choked out.
Her voice grew incredibly thin and weak. "I want you to see a Blue Star. When you do, tell me what it looks like. Come to my grave and describe every single detail."
Chris gripped the edges of the comic book. "I'll do it, Mom. Consider it done."
She closed her eyes and did not answer.
"Mom?" Chris asked.
The room stayed quiet.
"Mom!"
He buried his face in her blanket and cried. He cried and cried for a long time.