The Legend of Varlira
Varlira was beautiful.
She was so beautiful that her beauty was said to consume, to hypnotize, and, according to some, even to kill. Such legends were whispered among the people. They said that she had once lived in the sea, until one day, at the age of seventeen, she was drowned by the Twilight Ones.
From that day onward, her waters were cursed.
Every man who dared to enter their depths was doomed to drown. It was also said that Varlira had never known peace.
Despite the terrible legends and the many who ventured to her waters, no one had ever truly seen her. And even if someone swore that they had seen her with their own eyes, no one believed them.
Until one night, a handsome young man came to the shore of her waters.
He was alone.
His bare feet stepped upon the muddy earth as he slowly entered the water. It remained calm, as though it were trying to hear his breathing.
The young man did not seem concerned with the legends surrounding the place.
Or perhaps… he simply did not know of them.
Days passed.
Then months.
And still, the young man returned to the lonely waters, gently dipping his feet into them.
But one day, he did not come alone.
He brought a young lady with him.
They sat together upon the shore, watching the setting sun. It seemed that nothing could disturb their happiness.
But Varlira did not like it.
She set her eyes upon the young man.
In the days and weeks that followed, he continued to visit the waters with the young lady. Their happiness, however, did not last long.
One day, she disappeared.
Quickly.
Silently.
As though she had never existed.
The young man suffered. He searched through the forests, the roads, and the surrounding lands, but every search ended in failure.
For a long time, he did not return to the shore.
Until, at last, he came back alone.
He sat upon the shore, staring at the gentle, silent waves. Finally, a single tear ran down his cheek.
He did not cry.
He did not cry.
He remained there for nearly an hour before finally rising and setting off toward his home through the forest.
Yet the path seemed strangely unfamiliar.
He had never seen it before.
Or perhaps… it was not the same path at all.
He was certain he was walking in the right direction. For months, he had used this path to return home. So how could he have become lost?
He looked around, trying to understand where he was.
But when he looked behind him…
He was still standing on the shore of those waters.
He did not understand.
He narrowed his eyes and walked in another direction.
Yet after a while, he found himself standing on the shore once again.
He tried again.
And again.
No matter which path he chose, every one of them led to the same place.
The water.
He stared at the calm waves.
Silent.
Mysterious.
And then he heard a voice.
It was not a voice he knew. It was completely unfamiliar to him.
It was Varlira.
“Are you lost, young man?”
A feminine, melodic voice spoke from somewhere within the water.
The young man froze.
He did not know where the voice was coming from. Was it echoing inside his mind, or was the cursed water itself whispering to him?
He did not answer.
He tried once more to find a way out.
But once again, he returned to the same shore.
At last, he could bear it no longer.
“Who are you?!”
he shouted, trying to see anything beneath the clear surface. But he saw nothing except water.
“I am Varlira. Surely you have heard of me?”
Her voice was calm, almost gentle, as though the water itself were speaking through her.
The young man said nothing.
He was terrified.
Slowly, he approached the shore, as though something invisible were drawing him toward the water. He knew he was taking one step after another, yet he could not stop himself.
One step.
Then another.
Then a third.
Until his feet felt the cold water.
He stepped deeper.
The water reached his waist.
“Where are you? Are you in this water? In my head? How do I escape this forest?”
Question after question.
There was no answer.
Varlira remained silent for a minute.
Perhaps two.
The young man waited patiently.
At last, he heard a whisper.
“Go deeper… and find out.”
His legs stopped obeying him.
They moved on their own.
Deeper.
And deeper still.
Until suddenly, he stopped.
A woman emerged from the water.
Her dark, wet hair fell over her shoulders, and her blue eyes shone beneath the moonlight. A white dress, soaked with water, clung to her figure.
The young man could not look away.
She was beautiful.
Unusually beautiful.
Countless thoughts filled his mind, but he could not put any of them into words.
His legs no longer seemed to belong to him.
He moved closer.
Varlira did not move.
She only watched him.
The young man stood before her.
The woman tilted her head slightly.
She looked at him.
Then she took one step backward.
And another.
As though inviting him deeper.
The young man followed her as if hypnotized.
The water reached his chest.
Then his neck.
Until, at last, it reached his chin.
He did not care.
Varlira reached out her hand and took his.
He felt her cold, wet fingers against his palm.
He did not have time to say a word.
Varlira pulled him toward her.
Deeper into the cursed waters.
And from that night onward, no one ever saw the young man again.
Yet people said that sometimes, when the moon was high, a woman’s melodic laughter could be heard from the depths of the water.
Those who heard it swore that moments later, the water became completely still again.
As though nothing had ever happened there.
