The Nameless Hill

Amidst the mountain woods of the Saveni lies a small hill, that hides what once represented a hope for change and dream that was foreven shattered. Not many know the story behind it and even locals cannot trace the origin to its current name.

The Nameless Hill, The Silent Hill, The Goateye Hill... The structure that is now known for its peculiar shape of a hill surrounded by a shallow, almost rectangular ditch, similar to the eye of a goat was once almost a house. One legend seems to echo the lost heroes of the Age of Forced oversight, particularly Stoirm Gunainm. It tells a story about a boy of a wandering tribe, who fell in love with a girl from a tribe that led a more local life. During the course of the next few seasons, he visited the village earlier and postponed his departure. It is said that at one such season the country was struck by a plague, which mixed the senses so that night could no longer be told from day, nor reality of the touch from the reality of the mind. Amidst the chaos the village seemed like a remote island amidst the mountains. It remained peaceful and remained safe. Until the fateful summer. It began small with the plants being slightly different than the usual. The rye grew higher that year and the crops were unusually better. People celebrated. A small festival was held in the name of the gods and everyone cheered. The first signs of sickness surfaced in the next few days. Those who were sick seemed to share no common symptoms. Some voices spoke of finding the source, but nobody knew were to look for it. People were increasingly suspicious of one another. Then, amidst the chaos came in the boy. Unusually late in the season, visibly pale and with a strange spark to his eyes. It took a moment for everyone to focus their attention on the easy scapegoat. Everyones eyes seemed dark and focused on him. Everyone, except her. The boy was not weak and so people were still hesitant to attack. But a shadow came over their hearts and they could no longer think of him the same. The fear of death was too overpowering.

The boy offered to stay. he said that all of the country is now flooded by the strange disease but as everything in this world, even sickness must come to an end. He proposed to make them a house amidst the mountains, not far from the original village. It was so that they could still remain close to her family while remaining far enough to live a peaceful life. His brother, the tribal chief gave him his blessing and the girl agreed. Then he began to work day after day to bring the plan to a fast close. At nights people would sometimes find him gazing at the moon and whispering to himself, his silhouette hazy as if spun by the thickening mist. They would not know, however, if it was a strange reality they found themselves in or a peculiar dream. Over the next few months the signs of sickness began to slowly recede along with the bad faith of the villagers towards the boy. Everything seemed to take a course for better, until the girl got sick as well. The symptoms were different from what the others were experiencing. She said she wanted to pick some berries for him and the sweetest ones grew in the nearby valley right on the other side of the mountain.

The girl passed away in the next few weeks but nobody knows where she was buried. Some say it was on the hills, some say it was beyond the mountain, where the berries grow. And the boy? His name seemed to slip away every time one tried to recall it. Who knows, maybe there never was a boy after all?