After passing all the enclosures, what came next was what the hunters called the “bird kitchen,” where hawk feed was prepared. Then came the haystack, the woodshed, and finally, a massive structure built entirely of black iron bars. It looked like something that should be called a prison, or a cage. Its height was about three times that of an adult man, and its width was about fifty paces in each direction. Each bar was as thick as a man’s forearm.
Kyprosa stood before it.
“Did you sleep well?”
There was no reply. The creature’s head buried almost completely into the wing did not budge. Its eyelids stayed tightly closed.
“I dreamed of you.”
She stood close, as if to press her head into the bars. The bars were wide enough that she could actually stick her head through. She just knew it would be wiser not to. At least for now.
A familiar smell wafted in strongly. Everyone disliked this smell, which was a mixture of dirty water, rotting straw, spoiled chunks of meat, and the fishy stench unique to reptiles. But not Kyprosa.
It was partly because she came here almost every day and had grown used to it, but more than anything, it was because she did not think this stench was the creature’s essence. To Kyprosa, this was simply the smell of a prisoner who had been locked up for decades in a narrow cage, who had known neither freedom nor care. Beyond the filthy appearance covered in filth, there was a noble essence. She believed that without doubt.
“I flew through the sky with you. You were faster, stronger, and more beautiful than anything in the world. And yet here you are, trapped in this filthy prison.”
A moment later, Kyprosa tapped the bars lightly, as if anxious. The bird still didn’t move a single feather. The down on its neck, stained to the point its original color was hard to recognize, occasionally fluttered in the breeze.
The bird had been in this place since before Kyprosa was born. People called it the Snowbird from legends, or Seolhwanjo (Snow-calling Bird). It was said to live for more than a thousand years. It descended from above the clouds, and when it circled the sky once, snow would scatter on the ground. Or, they said, it folded its wings and sat atop a mountain peak covered in eternal snow, and when the tainted energy of the village below rose up, it would suddenly take off, and an avalanche would surely follow.
So it was also called the bird of the avalanche, or the avalanche itself. They said the cry of the Snowbird was the exact same sound as an avalanche roaring down. Because what they heard was the sound of the Snowbird bringing down the avalanche while crying out.
When Kyprosa’s father was still younger than she was now, the Snowbird was something that only appeared in legends, or in the stories of those who swore they had really seen it in a snowstorm. That was until Kyprosa’s great-grandfather and one of his friends actually captured the bird.
People from Fir Castle, and even from neighboring castles, came in droves to see the Snowbird. The captured Snowbird was still a chick, just a little taller than a grown man, covered only in snow-white down, but when it raised its head and flashed its jade-colored eyes and let out its first cry, everyone trembled and knew the legend was true.
The sound was exactly the same as the sound of an avalanche descending. The most terrifying sound for anyone born and raised in the land watched over by the overwhelming mountains called the corpses of giants.
The lord at the time was Kyprosa’s grandfather, Jame Deyor. He declared that the legendary bird captured by his brother would become the protector of Fir Castle, guarding it from natural disasters and enemy threats. He instructed them to build it spaciously so that the bird could fly freely inside, and so that it would be sufficient even as the body grew larger. Even though people whispered it was madness to use enough iron to make hundreds of spears just to build a birdcage, he pretended not to hear and completed what became the prison that now stood.
It might be that human eyes cannot perceive what lies decades ahead. As the years passed, both James Dayor, who had been the lord, and Landry Dayor, who had caught the bird, died. The Snowbird, which at first needed nets over the bars so it wouldn’t escape through the gaps, could now no longer even fully spread its wings inside the enclosure.
When Kyprosa first saw the Snowbird, the creature once considered the embodiment of legend, the bird that had drawn countless people who secretly made wishes, had a pitifully shabby appearance. After the bird suddenly grew large, no one dared go inside to clean, so for several years the enclosure had remained filled with rotting straw, food waste, and excrement all mixed together. And the bird, which couldn’t leave the enclosure, had become the same way
Its body, which should have been dazzlingly white, was stained with moldy colors, and its long neck was always curled or buried in its wing. The head, decorated with shimmering scales and five horns, different from any other bird and all the more dignified for it, now slept like a dragon carved into the wall.
“One day, that day will come.”
Her murmur was the complete opposite of what the people in the castle hoped for. They didn’t want the Snowbird to be free. Not because they cherished it, but because they feared it. After being confined in such a state for decades, if it escaped, surely it would harm people.
Some even thought it would be safer to just kill it outright. But because the former lord had declared it a guardian spirit, no one dared say so aloud. Instead, they grumbled about the amount of meat it ate or the smell of the cage, all while watching each other’s reaction.
“Hey, Rosa. Talking to the bird again?”
It was Jan, a veteran hunter. On his thick hunting glove, Arrowbolt was perched. She thought no one would be around at this hour, but it seemed someone from the guard squad was heading out early for falconry.
Jan had served the lord even before Kyprosa was born. Though they usually exchanged casual talk, his presence at this moment wasn’t welcome.
He stood beside Kyprosa, looking up at the Snowbird.
“Asleep, huh?”
It was a foolish comment. If that was what sleeping looked like, then the bird must sleep all day. People who didn’t care probably thought it never even changed posture. But Kyprosa knew the difference between when the bird was truly sleeping and when it stayed still like this.
“It must like it in there. Seeing how soundly it sleeps.”
Even though it was clearly meant to tease, Kyprosa couldn’t help glaring at him. Jan caught her sharp expression, then yawned.
“Right? If not, it could just break out. Look at those teeth. It could easily bite through those bars. But there it is, just sitting like that.”
“No creature would like a place like that.”
“Why not? There are cockroaches and rats.”
“Are you saying the Snowbird is like a cockroach or a rat?”
“Of course it wasn’t always like that, but it’s lived there since it was a chick. It doesn’t know the outside world. Why wouldn’t a beast that strong break the bars? It must’ve tried as a chick, failed, and gave up. Stupid thing. Doesn’t even know how big it’s gotten.”
Kyprosa clenched her fists, her veins standing out on her wrist. Arrowbolt, perched on Jan’s arm, stared at Kyprosa with its yellow eyes.
That bird may have size, but it’s an idiot. It’s surely forgotten the joy of flying. If it thinks a hunting hawk that flies through the sky, snatches prey, and returns to its master’s arm is pathetic, then that thing is far worse.
Kyprosa shook her head. That bird wasn’t some lowly hawk. It was a mysterious creature that called avalanches. If it so desired, it could bury them all, even this entire castle, in an avalanche. Herself including.
It was that kind of existence, and that made it all the more captivating. If the day came when the cage collapsed, the bird could rise and sweep away all the hollow lives clinging to existence. Centuries of history would be buried, leaving behind a flawless field of white. Ah, if only that day would come. Right now.
“Get lost.”
When Kyprosa spat that out, Jan shrugged his shoulders, turned, and walked away with heavy steps. Beyond his back, the sun was rising.
It was time to return to her room. If someone came to fetch her for morning prayers and found her room empty, her grandmother would hear about it, and she’d start her day with a slap to the cheek.
Before leaving, Kyprosa looked at the bird. It was in exactly the same posture as before, not even opening its eyes.
To the bird, she said, “I’ll tame you. And then we’ll go to the shining capital together. Wait for me. Just wait.”
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