It was August 15th when he first arrived into her life.

 

His small fingers glided over her white keys, skipping all the black ones – he must've not liked darkness.

 

She decided to call him light, thinking that their encounter would last only a couple of minutes and then it would be over. Forever.

 

But soon after, she found herself in his home, still confused as to why she would be given as a present to a mere child – a baby, even.

 

The yellow walls were certainly less nice to look at than the calm, familiar ones she was used to looking at in Safara, but she supposed it was a low price to pay for a possible chance of gaining freedom.

 

Freedom...

 

There was a time when she thought she would gain it as soon as today, but in reality, she hadn't even been bought many times; every time, she returned to Safara not long after, because her keys couldn't create the sounds the owners wanted her to make.

 

No, of course not. How could she have ever thought that a broken piano could ever have a chance of competing with, say, a magical watch that turned back time, or a flute that called upon all the supernatural creatures in the world?

 

She'd waited and waited, and then she stopped.

 

She'd lost faith that freedom would ever come within an arm's reach again. It had been hundreds of years since anyone had even shown interest in her, who was sitting in the corner of Safara, staring at the cold walls and rotting away, slowly but surely.

 

And then his fingertips touched her, nudging her awake.

 

Yes, he was just a small kid, and the sounds she produced as he pressed the keys, one after the other, probably made sense to him because he giggled at the broken melody, but she could not understand why it made sense to his parents, too.

 

So she sat there, in his room with golden walls, much like she had in Safara, but this time the waiting did not last for hundreds of years.

 

This time, she had a dark-haired chubby child to laugh at as he tried to find balance while running through the room. He didn't fail many times, but every time he fell face-first onto the welcoming carpet – everything in his room was soft, light and full of some optimism she could never fathom – was etched into her long-term memory.

 

They had so much fun while creating his first melodies together. She'd worried it would sound broken to his human ears, but his eyes were warm as he touched her frame and whispered, It's beautiful.

 

That night, which she often imagined as warm and starry in her mind, though the light of the stars rarely ever reached the corner of his room in which she was situated, she let her voice flow freely for the first time ever.

 

And he'd called it beautiful.

 

The seasons spun around, twirling and entangling until there was snow between the glasses in his window, sunlight in his eyes and rain in the smell of his hair.

 

It was the time she would remember forever and in the most beautiful way. He would wake up early in the morning, quickly eat some breakfast and then lose himself in the millions of ideas that were surging through his brain.

 

They'd created hundreds of songs back then, most of them bubbly and as fleeting as a spring breeze, playful and strong but he was always captivated by something new, never able to stay and repeat the same move twice.

 

He did not have books full of musical notes. He could not read the lines that gave instructions how to follow notes. He did not attend solfeggio or receive piano classes.

 

No, he was a natural. He would put his school bag on top of her, never taking out his first books and notebooks to scribble away at some unimportant homework. He would not go out to play football with the rest of the kids he'd met that year, his first year at elementary school.

 

He only gave attention to her. First his touches were fleeting and insecure, and her voice shy and sleepy.

 

But by the time he was taller than her highest point, he did not have to look at her for her to be able to decipher his intentions. He didn't even have to touch her notes, just lead her through the complicated melodies that came natural to both of them.

 

He was getting better, her light. And he was already the best piano player in all the dimensions of the universe.

 

Through time, she found out why a child had come to Safara, a place so magical that no regular human could ever access it. To a normal eye, its front windows with some of the most beautiful and most intriguing magical items looked only like an old brick wall. No ordinary human could see through Hamlin's expert deception, guarding its treasures from hands that would not be able to handle the wonders of his inter-dimensional stop.

 

He was no ordinary child, her light. Though he did not have pointy ears and though he could not lift into the air and fly, he was the descendant of a powerful race of wizards. His father would come into his – their room during the night when he was still so small that he conveyed most of his emotions with giggles and whines instead of with words, and he would whisper to him in a language she recognized was spoken by a few of the customers who'd come to Hamlin during the hundreds of years she'd spent at Safara.

 

It was the same language the man who'd trapped her had used.

 

She wanted to tell him her story and all about his heritage every time he approached her, but her voice was broken and she could not convey the message, no matter how hard she tried.

 

She could not tell him that, though his parents hid it from him because they were scared for his safety, he was a powerful wizard. That the light she saw radiating from him was in fact real, and that he had the power to use it to light up the whole world.

 

She could not tell him that he didn't need to fear the darkness, because every time he looked at her, all the monsters got scared from the flare that lit up inside of her heart.

 

She could not tell him that she was not a lifeless object, the same as millions of others he saw at every corner.

 

But every time he ran into his room, threw his backpack away, letting all his problems and insecurities be forgotten with it, and smiled at her, saying, Hello, my love, she realized that he already knew.

 

Or so she had thought, for many years.

 

She had waited for every August 15th with anticipation and excitement. She would count the months, then weeks, then days, and finally hours and minutes until he came up to his room, locked it and told her he was going to give a present to himself, doing the thing he liked the most in the whole world with the one he loved the most in the whole world.

 

So on that day, she waited. She counted and counted, until she reached zero. Thinking that she'd calculated things incorrectly, she began counting again. And again.

 

But he never came.

 

From that day, everything changed.

 

Dust collected on her keys. The golden color of the walls was replaced by black. His laughter with silence.

 

She was replaced, too.

 

She'd wondered for a long time what she'd done to anger him like that, because he must've been angry at her for some reason. She'd wondered if his ears had really turned human after spending so much time among them that he forgot about the harmony the two of them could create and that her voice started sounding broken to him, too.

 

She wondered if she was not good enough anymore. If he'd found some other piano that could understand him better. And she was afraid that she'd be shipped back to Safara, perhaps without an explanation, even. Without at least a farewell.

 

The little time she was able to see him in those days, he spent sitting on his bed and looking at a rectangular object she heard him call a phone. He didn't ever even glance at her; the strange object had his undivided attention at all times.

 

It seemed to be so important that he didn't care about his clothes, the tidiness of his room or even his meals. She got worried for him, for his form that was getting thinner, for the eccentric colors of his hair – the purple, blue, green and orange would've looked even beautiful had it not been for the fact that his spirit seemed to have taken on the same colors.

 

She was worried the most about the light that seemed to have been progressively disappearing from his eyes. He sat in the darkness, unafraid of it anymore, always angry at something and typing away at the phone.

 

One day, while a snow storm broke out and she worried whether he'd return home safely, she forced herself to realize that he was not the giggling light she loved anymore. He had grown up, gotten taller than she had been even before the trap, and he did not need her anymore.

 

He was still her light, though. He would always remain that, even when she could not see him anymore. Even when she was back in Safara, even if she was sold again and even if someone someday broke the spell – though she doubted it would ever happen. She would always remember the molten brown that had loved her, even though it had not lasted long enough.

 

Even forever wouldn't have been long enough.

 

She remembered the morning of the day of the snow storm very well. She would never forget how worried she was when he got up to leave in a pair of sneakers, a thin sweater and tight pants. He put his almost-empty backpack on one shoulder, lit a cigarette and started making his way out of the room while she stared at the pink-haired teenager silently.

 

She would not forget that she recognized the boy who his heels, standing at the doorway and giving her a warm look for the first time in years.

 

I'm sorry, he had whispered.

 

She wanted to scream at him that it was okay. That she did not hate him, or even judge him for not being perfect, for trying to find his place in the world. That she loved him, and that she would wait for him for however long was necessary.

 

That she just wanted him to be safe and happy, even if she never got to see him again.

 

Then the snow storm broke out.

 

And it took him away from her, with all the light of the world. All that was left was eternal darkness, as dark as the black walls of his room. As empty as the silence she had to face, a silence that lasted forever and that could be broken only by his childish giggles.

 

But he would never be a child again. And it would never be August 15th again, not for her, at least.

 

Yet she waited. Counted. Hoped, because even after so many years of loneliness and despair, she hadn't learned anything. She trusted him, and believed that he would come back.

 

Oh, how wrong she was, when many years later, they came for her.

 

To pick her up. To take her back to Safara.

 

To make her admit her defeat.

 

She spent that day in a delirious haze, not really able to fathom what was going on. She only remembered the snow, the cold winter creeping into her every part and threatening to make her freeze to death.

 

She remembered screaming that there must’ve been some kind of mistake, that she had to wait for him, that they couldn’t take her away from her light…

 

A blizzard arose, and the wind whistled at her in disapproval, as if laughing at her silliness.

 

There was nobody to wait for. Nobody left to save.

 

Her light, whom she’d watched grow up and turn from a baby into a man, was not coming back. He had let go of her that day, when he’d looked at her and apologized.

 

So she had to let go of him, too.

 

No matter how hard she tried, she could see nothing but his smiling face as she looked through the windows of the piano shop she was now sitting in. The blizzard seemed endless, making the snow swirl around and create such a commotion that it left her already-overloaded mind spinning.

 

Still, through the snow and the heavy fog, she saw a form approaching her from the darkness. It was him, still in that grey sweater and black pants, and his eyes were warm, shining a light so strong that she could focus on nothing else, that she could do nothing but keep hoping, though she was a fool for doing so.

 

But what else did she have? What else was left for her, who hadn’t even been hauled back to Safara, where she would at least be understood and feel as if she belonged there? Instead she was surrounded by actual musical instruments who couldn’t talk or make broken sounds or…

 

Fall in love with their owners.

 

To be honest, she had fallen in love with him the moment she first saw him.

 

She fell in love with the light inside of his eyes.

 

It was a sight she could never forget; being given attention, the molten brown shining at her, who had fallen asleep a long time ago, thinking she would never wake up again.

 

She was awake now.

 

Where was he, then?

 

His shadow advanced through the blizzard, and the form she imagined looked thinner, paler, and much, much more serious. She knew that after all these years, the possibility of the light remaining in his eyes, the possibility of him even being able to tune into his magic, was basically nonexistent.

 

She felt unprotected, not used to being in the center of any room, but they hadn’t tried to play her, so they had no idea she had a disability that would never get her sold.

 

She didn’t want to get sold to anyone ever again.

 

He didn’t stop walking, even when he came close to the front window of the store. Even when the glass shattered without his fingertips even touching it.

 

Even when he growled, the glass cracking under his feet and making her worry whether he would hurt himself. Though she didn’t believe for a second that he was real – no, she was just having a vivid, shock-induced dream. Maybe she would wake up in Safara, laughing at herself and her imagination while trying to mourn her loss – the last she would ever allow herself to feel.

 

The cracking sound disappeared.

 

He turned his head sideways, as if confused somehow. Would he recognize her? Or was she just an unimportant memory he’d decided to discard a long time ago?

 

She was now sure she was just dreaming, as much as a piano could, because he changed drastically while the blizzard threatened to bury them in snow behind them. She could see nothing but the changes in his face, though, or how he was taller than when he’d left but shorter than what she’d imagined him to grow into, or how his hair was now seemingly blonde.

 

It suited him well, better than any of his previous colors. It seemed to bring out the light she thought was gone, but oh, how wrong she was, and how happy because of her silly mistake.

 

His whole form was illuminated by the light he seemed to have finally embraced.

 

It was not too late.

 

He was now standing in front of her, her fingers caressing her in the same fashion as she was used to.

 

I’ve missed you, light, she whispered in a soundless voice.

 

“I’ve missed you too,” he whispered back, sitting at the stool that had been unoccupied for so long. Sitting on his stool, because she would never acknowledge anyone else as its owner.

 

No more words were spoken. They weren’t necessary, because his hands on her keys said everything they needed to. Of how much he’d wanted to do this every single day of his life. Of how he was lost, trying to find something in himself that he could never reach if he stayed the boy in that dark room where she was.

 

He didn’t want her to be disappointed by who he’d become, when she saw his mistakes and his everlasting frown. He didn’t want to scare her, didn’t want to risk losing her forever until he was good enough to come forth and find her again.

 

She told him everything with her notes, too. How worried she was about him. How she’d wanted to help him, but she couldn’t get up and run after him. Couldn’t scream at him that it was okay, that he could never disappoint her. He was merely human – or at least his soul was, and she knew that. She knew how awful keeping secrets was, and how everything would’ve been different if he’d known everything about his powers since a young age.

 

And so they sang as the blizzard threatened to take away the whole world, and for a moment, she wished it would. Or at least just the two of them, until they didn’t remember anything but the sunny August and a beautiful day which they’d spent staring at each other’s’ souls, finding them beautiful.

 

She cried, but there were no tears. His face remained dry too.

 

And when the song ended, he looked at her, caressing her one last time. He didn’t tell her, but she knew it in her soul that it was indeed the last.

 

It’s okay, light. Even if I never see you again, I want you to know that I love you.

 

“You are my past,” he whispered.

 

“And I have let go of my past.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

He was sobbing, but she was the calmest piano in the world as he got up and started kicking her with his legs. Tears were streaming down his face and his hair looked like the Sun’s rays on the longest day in the year.

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

 

His hands were stronger than she remembered. They were strong enough to grip her frame and throw her into the wall. Something broke. She didn’t feel a thing.

 

“I was happy not seeing you ever again! I didn’t want to hear your stupid voice ever again, you useless, broken piano!”

 

He turned, his eyes landing upon an expensive guitar. He went over and took it, and then he started hitting her keys with it.

 

Her frame broke. The keys fell apart, falling out of her one by one. She could do nothing but look at him.

 

“But then I find you here, out of all places! And you are still the awful-sounding pile of trash I remember!”

 

He threw the guitar away, hitting straight into the already-ruined pile of keys and wood and plastic and strings once again.

 

Then he withdrew, searching his pockets for something.

 

“You know that I used to like the way you sounded? That I’d thought you would make me the most famous piano player in the world, you old, rotten wooden excuse of a musical instrument?”

 

Something started bleeding out of her, drop by drop. There was no blood.

 

He found what he was looking for and took it out, pointing it at her in warning.

 

“I can’t be free until you are gone.”

 

Why was it so cold all of a sudden? What had the blizzard brought with it into this forgotten place, in which she had thought she would be safe? In which she had thought she would be able to disappear…

 

She had always imagined death as a slow, painless departure.

 

She had not known that it would be his face she would see last as she departed.

 

She had not thought that it would be warm when she died. That she would not be alone.

 

He brought the lighter to her broken form. It would be so easy to light the old, dry wood on fire…

 

“It will just take a second. And then you will be gone.”

 

The fire would not stop until not a trace of her was left.

 

“And then I will be able to forget you.”

 

She yearned to be lit on fire. She yearned to feel the sun of August again.

 

“And then I will be able to love someone else.”

 

She yearned to feel the sun of August forever.

 

“But why can’t I press this button? Why can’t I finish the job I’ve started?”

 

It’s okay, light. Do whatever you need to. I just want you to be happy.

 

She knew that he could never be happy, not until she was gone forever. And she was fine with disappearing, if it meant bringing him relief and peace.

 

“Look at you! I’ve ruined you, destroyed you. I’ll never be able to hear you sing again. I’ll never be able to play you again. I’ll never be able to…”

 

He sobbed again, sinking to the floor and clutching her frame.

 

It was too late.

 

She wanted to sob too and rock him gently, holding him through everything.

 

If she could, she would press the button herself, just to make him stop feeling the excruciating pain she was inflicting onto him.

 

He started laughing then, tears still streaming down his face.

 

Were those tears for her? Was he actually mourning her death, the death of a broken, good-for-nothing pile of wood? Or was he mourning his destiny that had brought her to him and made him dream of becoming a piano player but never succeeding because he was so used to the messed-up notes of her that he could never play a normal piano successfully?

 

“And to think…”

 

He was the most beautiful creature in the whole world. The most powerful wizard, with shards of glass floating in the air and protecting them from the blizzard, though he had no idea it was his doing.

 

He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead on what was once the first key he’d ever touched, the baby him.

 

He’d always skipped the black notes, because he was a creature of light.

 

“You were my first love.”

 

“And I don’t want to let you go.”

 

I love you, light.

 

 

A pulse seemed to come out of him suddenly, blinding the world with a light that was purer than the sun of a summer morning.

 

Was she hallucinating, or did the blizzard disappear and August 15th start again?

 

Was she dreaming, or did he clutch her bloody hands and start sobbing again, putting his head into her neck as he embraced her?

 

Why was he letting the blood get on his clothes?

 

She’d always loved that grey sweater.

 

He was a creature of light, and she was just a silly girl who’d let herself be trapped like a fool.

 

Who’d run to help a man in distress, not caring that she’d left her pendant of protection in her bag that had stayed attached on her horse.

 

Who hadn’t thought for a second that the man might want the book of spells she was carrying to the library for himself. It was an ancient book full of strong spells that could grant power to the evil if left in the wrong hands, she had been told.

 

Yet she’d run to help the man who had the same eyes like the boy who was looking at her now, who was whimpering as he tried to wipe the blood from her face, though they both knew he could do nothing to help her.

 

“What have I done?” he whispered brokenly, in a childlike voice. She’d thought the brown-haired boy had disappeared a long time ago.

 

Heart-wrecking sobs left his body as he embraced her tightly, and for the first time in a long time, she started feeling pain. But it was not her broken limbs, shattered bones or open wounds that hurt.

 

No, it was the heart that knew he would stay scarred forever, because he had inflicted all of those wounds onto her.

 

She did not care for a second that she was going to depart soon.

 

But what would he do when she was gone?

 

“Now…” she tried, barely able to move her lips. “Now you can… finally be free, light.”

 

“No, no, no, no,” he started frantically, shaking his head in panic. “No, I didn’t mean a thing of what I said. No, no, I… I don’t want you to go. I didn’t know- I had no idea-“ He stopped, looking her over again. If she’d had any energy left in her, she would’ve blushed, wondering if he thought she looked pretty. “Oh my God, what have I done?”

 

And now she finally had the ability to tell him. Though she wanted to touch him, to ruffle his sunny hair, to stare at his beautiful eyes until she memorized every single blotch of color in them.

 

Telling him this was far more important.

 

“I am sorry… That I couldn’t sound like the others.” She coughed, knowing that blood was now flowing from her lips. The world slowly started to fade, but his light was still strong enough for her to be able to hold onto it.

 

He started to shake his head again, but she cut him off. “I wanted to, so badly, but I just couldn’t. You… are the best piano player in the whole world. With time…”

 

She tried to take a deep breath but it got stuck in her lungs. She was out of time, she knew.

 

She could see in his eyes that he knew too.

 

“With time, you will… be able to play on other pianos. Promise me you will…”

 

“Don’t talk anymore, please,” he whispered. “I understand.”

 

“Promise… me you will not give up… on that dream,” she barely managed to finish.

 

“I love you,” he whispered, fresh tears spilling from his eyes.

 

And as his lips touched hers, she realized that she could stop counting now.

 

The blizzard swirled high into the night air, showing her the way home.

 

Though she had a light that would forever shine upon her.

 

A light that would never disappear, even when the blizzard stopped and the sun rose above the horizon once again.

 

Even when August 15th arrived again, and he was alone.

 

Even when he forgot about her.

 

She would carry the memory of him into the oblivion.

 

Him, the son of the man who had trapped her into the piano…

 

Her savior.

 

Her first and only love.

 

“You see, this might look like a normal piano, my child, but it most definitely isn’t,” Hamlin said, chuckling to himself. “It is said that inside of it resides a beautiful girl, her heart as white as the cleanest snow.”

 

The little child stared at Hamlin in interest, unable to figure out how a girl would fit inside the piano but believing in it diligently regardless.

 

“It is said that only a man who falls in love with her can set her free.” He nodded with his little head, wanting to fall in love with the damsel in distress and set her free immediately.

 

“But you see, it is not that simple, my dear child. Since a wizard trapped her, it would take one to break the spell too.”

 

A wizard? The child frowned, pouting his lips. What did that word mean? And why was his dad so intent on buying him a piano in the first place?

 

Hamlin smiled at him wickedly, obviously knowing something that he didn’t. He didn’t like how adults often acted like that, as if he was too stupid to understand what they were saying.

 

“And that wizard would have to give up on his magic,” Hamlin said as he ruffled his hair. “Because the wizard who’d trapped her had done it to gain power, and the balance must be restored.”

 

Hamlin turned to glance at his parents, who were holding what looked like a flute between them and having a heated discussion about it. “Though apparently, he regrets what he had done and wants to set her free, too. But he does not want to give up magic for it.”

 

“He has a son, though… It is said that he will be raised as a human, so that when the time comes for him to give up on his magic, he can do it without any second thoughts.”

 

The boy yawned, unable to follow Hamlin’s story anymore. He just wanted to set a princess free, but it looked as if he would not be able to do it today.

 

“Go on, my child,” Hamlin whispered, nudging him forward.

 

“Go on and meet your destiny.

 

And may God help you be able to be more selfless than your father and set that poor soul free when the time comes.”

 

He approached the piano slowly. It was white. Good. He didn’t like dark colors. They reminded him of the darkness of the space underneath his bed where shadows resided.

 

“I will save you, my lady,” he said with his childlike voice.

 

“I just need to find out what a wizard is first.”

 

For some reason, Hamlin knew that he would never see that piano again.

 

Not as a piano, at least.

 

The balance of the universe would be restored again someday.

 

After all, what was the power of a wizard compared to the power of true love?