❄️ The Melody of Frost Crystals
❄️ On nights when the cold makes the world sing, some hear melodies that others cannot perceive. They say these are the ancient voices of winter, guardians of the balance of the seasons.
This tale tells one of these stories — an invitation to listen to the silence and find your own note within it. ❄️
❄️ The Call of the Cold
In a village nestled in a frozen valley lived Élia, a young artisan who could hear what others could not: the vibrations of the cold.
Each winter morning, when frost settled on the windows, she would breathe in gently and hear a faint chime, like crystalline choirs coming from far away.
One evening, as the moon rose round and pale, the chime became a full melody — delicate, fragile, and irresistibly compelling.
Élia felt her heart resonate in unison.
Something is calling me.
🧭 The White Path
Guided by the song, she followed the snowy paths until she reached a plateau where the snow seemed to glow with an inner light.
There, the wind danced softly, lifting thousands of frosted crystals that floated like frozen fireflies.
🌲 The Shimmering Clearing
At the center of the clearing stood a harp made of ice..
Its transparent strings vibrated on their own, played by an invisible breath.
Élia approached, awestruck.
The Frost Harp
— “Why have you called me?” she whispered. murmura-t-elle.
The wind wrapped around her and murmured:
— “Because winter is losing its breath. Its music is fading. And you… you can hear it.”
The strings began to vibrate more strongly, but some remained silent, as if cracked.
Élia placed her hand on the harp and felt a deep fatigue pass through the ice.
Winter lacked balance — too much forgotten cold, too much withheld warmth.
👩🎤 Élia’s Song
Instinctively, she closed her eyes and began to sing..
One note, then another.
A simple, gentle melody, born of her own breath and all the love she carried for the season.
👑 The Crown of Light
Gradually, the silent strings began to shine.
The crystals around her rose, twirled, and illuminated…
Forming a frozen crown of light above the harp.
🌬️ The Breath of Winter
When the last note resonated, the harp sparkled with pure brilliance.
— “Thank you, guardian of the frost,”whispered the wind.
— “I am not a guardian…”
— “You have become one.”
The wind calmed, and the crystals fell gently like a shower of stars.
🌿 The Peaceful Return
Élia walked back to the village, a deep calm within her.
Nothing around had changed… yet everything seemed clearer, more alive, as if winter itself was breathing again.
Since that day, whenever the frost sings, the elders say it is Élia’s voice mingled with the crystals’ —
a melody reminding the world that even the cold must be listened to.
💫 Gentleness heals what is cracked,
even in the coldest seasons;
one single voice can restore harmony. 💫