Autor: MaryelTsuki26

Dicen que en el corazón de Bahari Bay, donde el viento acaricia los tejados y las flores nunca marchitan, existe una vitrina que nadie se atreve a tocar. Dentro, vestida con un traje de novia bordado con hilos de luna, yace Tish —la eterna prometida. Tish era la alegría del taller, la chispa que encendía el corazón de Jel, el artista de manos temblorosas y alma ardiente. Su amor era como el fuego de los hornos: intenso, frágil, necesario. Cada día, Jel le regalaba una flor de cerámica, y ella las guardaba como si fueran promesas. Pero el destino, cruel y silencioso, le trajo una enfermedad que ni los sabios de Kilima pudieron curar. Tish se fue apagando como una vela en la tormenta, justo antes del día en que iba a casarse con Jel. Su hermano Reth, desesperado, no aceptó perderla. Él, que siempre la protegió, que le enseñó a tallar madera y a reír con el alma, hizo lo impensable. Con ayuda de antiguos rituales olvidados por los humanos pero recordados por los elfos, Reth conservó el cuerpo de Tish. No como una muñeca, sino como una obra de arte. La vistió con su vestido nupcial, la colocó en el taller, y dijo que mientras ella estuviera allí, su espíritu seguiría guiando sus manos. Jel, devastado, no volvió a amar. Cada noche se sentaba frente a la vitrina, hablándole como si aún respirara. A veces, dicen los vecinos, se ve a Tish mover los dedos, como si tejiera el aire. Otros aseguran que sus ojos brillan cuando Jel llora. Reth cuida el taller como un santuario. Nadie puede tocar la vitrina. Nadie puede hablar de “la novia del taller” sin que el viento se agite. Porque Tish no está muerta. Está esperando. Y mientras Jel la ame, y Reth la proteja, su historia seguirá viva.

Title: “The Workshop Bride” — Legend of Bahari Bay

They say that in the heart of Bahari Bay, where the wind caresses the rooftops and the flowers never wither, there is a glass case that no one dares to touch. Inside, dressed in a wedding gown embroidered with moonlight, lies Tish—the eternal betrothed. Tish was the joy of the workshop, the spark that ignited the heart of Jel, the artist with trembling hands and a burning soul. Their love was like the fire in the kilns: intense, fragile, essential. Every day, Jel gave her a ceramic flower, and she kept them as if they were promises. But fate, cruel and silent, brought her an illness that not even the sages of Kilima could cure. Tish faded away like a candle in a storm, just before the day she was to marry Jel. Her brother Reth, in despair, refused to lose her. He, who had always protected her, who had taught her to carve wood and to laugh with her soul, did the unthinkable. With the help of ancient rituals forgotten by humans but remembered by elves, Reth preserved Tish’s body. Not as a doll, but as a work of art. He dressed her in her wedding gown, placed her in the workshop, and said that as long as she was there, her spirit would continue to guide his hands. Jel, devastated, never loved again. Every night he sat before the glass case, speaking to her as if she were still breathing. Sometimes, the neighbors say, Tish’s fingers can be seen moving, as if she were weaving the air. Others claim that her eyes glow when Jel cries. Reth guards the workshop like a sanctuary. No one can touch the glass case. No one can speak of “the bride of the workshop” without the wind stirring. Because Tish is not dead. She is waiting. And as long as Jel loves her, and Reth protects her, her story will live on.