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The Paradise of Animals
Folklore from the year
1
8
7
2
Adapted from
Tscheinen, M.
Walliser Sagen (pp. 71–72)
Rarity Level
UNIQUE (1/25)
The Full Story
High above the clouds, where the rock touches the hem of the sky, lies a hidden sanctuary that no wanderer ever finds by chance. It is a place removed from time, unstained by human step and protected by the breath of God from every profane gaze. While the glaciers stare below, eternal spring reigns here. No ice fetters the earth; instead, a golden light floods the slopes, in which heavenly green glows – more lush and alive than any plant of the deep, nourished by springs pure as liquid crystal.
The air in this place does not vibrate with silence, but with a spherical music. It is a harmonious chorale of creation: The gentle bleating of the chamois, the call of the eagles, and the hum of life weave together into a melody of perfect bliss. In this Garden Eden of the Alps, creatures live in a holy primal peace. Magnificent ibex with horns like crowns rest beside vultures and ptarmigans. No claw is raised in anger, no tooth desires flesh. Fear is an unknown word here; there reigns only delight and the pure joy of existence.
Only every three times seven years does the veil lift for the blink of an eye. Then it is granted to a single chosen one to glimpse this reflection of eternity from afar. There stand ancient stone pines and maples, mighty guardians of the light. The pines bear cones whose kernels – the Arven nuts – taste sweeter than almonds and more heavenly than honey.
He who is granted the grace to enter this paradise and taste its ambrosia enters an unbreakable covenant: never again may his hand harm an animal or shed blood, lest he forfeit his own life. Once, so the legend whispers, this blessing was open to all. Many carved their names into the resinous trunks in reverence, drunk by love for the forest.
But the heart of man can be weak at times. Servants, driven by greed and profane idleness, stole the holy nuts to gorge themselves immeasurably instead of honoring the gift. Then a shadow fell over their sight. The Lords did not banish paradise, but the vision of men to see it. The garden did not wither – it was merely hidden. It still blooms today in eternal splendor, right beside us, but through the sacrilege of the past, our eye has become blind to its glory. It lies now behind an impenetrable veil, existing, but unreachable for those who only know how to take.
The Relic
This relic is considered the rarest of all artifacts, for the legend says it harbors a fragment of the heavenly paradise of animals within. It is told that in its interior, the spherical song of that hidden garden still vibrates. As a key to the invisible, it stands symbolically for pure joy of life and reminds us that paradise remains open only to the ones who respects the boundaries of creation. A timeless symbol that true happiness lies not in taking, but in respectful preservation.
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