Azur

Azur, a fair‑haired youth with piercing blue eyes, struggles through thorny thickets on a steep mountain slope. The wind whistles through the gorges, hurling handfuls of icy dust into his face. He glances around — gray rocks loom all around, closing in to form a labyrinth where every turn seems a replica of the previous one. His fingers tremble with cold, his cloak is torn on the rocks, but he presses on stubbornly, gripping a broken staff in his hand — all that remains of his gear after yesterday’s rockslide.
"Where am I?.." he whispers, and his voice is lost in the roar of the wind. "Just yesterday I saw the lights of the valley… and now — only these accursed mountains. Is the path to new wonders always paved with trials of fear?"
He stops, leaning against a rock, and wipes the sweat from his forehead. Images flash in his memory: the shimmer of the fairy of the djinn’s crystal cage, her parting nod, the promise that the world’s next riddle awaits one who does not turn back. Azur takes a deep breath, raises his gaze to the cloud‑shrouded sky, and notices a narrow path winding along the cliff. The stones crumble under his feet, but he takes a step — then another.
"I won’t give up," he says firmly, and a stubborn resolve rings in his voice. "If the fairy believed in me, if Azmar was able to forgive old grievances for the sake of a common goal… I will find the way. Even if these mountains wish to stop me."
Azur steps onto the path, peering into the misty distance. Somewhere in the far‑off reaches, the cry of a bird of prey rings out — either a warning or a challenge. He clenches his fist, nods to himself, and presses on, ready to face whatever lies beyond the next turn.