There once was a tree that grew in the cold.
In the middle of a field of ice and snow, adjacent to a small town, a sapling emerged. None of the people native to the land of eternal winter could explain why or how such a vibrant snippet of foliage would surface there, where other plant life was so scarce and there was such little sunlight.
Yet the tree blossomed and grew. It not only survived the harsh weather of the cold lands, it thrived. The people watched in astonishment as, over the span of just days, the tree became taller than a woodland pine. It was covered in leaves that were the shapes of stars, and they were not green, but a deep, saturated blue.
One day, the tree bore fruit.
Small, fleshy fruit which resembled a peach, only the skin was violet and and smoother than silk. When the people first saw this foreign food, they thought it a miracle. They were able to grow such little produce on their own, and paid a great price to have it brought to them from far away lands where summer reigned.
Bitter because of this, they decided to keep the fruit for themselves. They ate it whole and laughed when the juices ran down their faces. They delighted in its sugary sweetness. They called the purple fruits, ‘Blessings’.
That night, they gathered as many Blessings as they could, and decided to have a great festival to celebrate their good fortune. Every man, woman, and child was gathered into the town square, and Blessings were passed out to all. Everyone danced long into the night, drunk off of sugar and sweetness.
When midnight came, the leaves fell from the tree.
The snow covered plane became littered in deep blue stars. But the townspeople, celebrating happily, never saw it happen. They didn’t notice, either, as the temperature warmed to a degree which it never had in the cold lands before.
It wasn’t until the sun began to rise and the fruit ran out that they realized something was amiss.
No one had grown tired. Despite all of the dancing and merriment, not a single person, young or old, had become tired throughout the night.
Why had no one grown weary?
The music stopped. The townspeople murmured to each other in tones of deepest confusion.
A voice like a violin note caused them all to fall silent.
A striking woman with blue skin and violet eyes entered into the clearing where they were gathered. She came from where the tree once was, only they all now could see that the tree was gone.
The snow melted at the cerulean woman’s feet. The night sky began to turn red.