The Morning Star and the Evening Star

The Morning Star and the Evening Star

Long ago, an emperor and an empress dreamed more than anything of having a child. They visited doctors, wise people, and keepers of old secrets, but the years went by and their wish did not come true. One night, the empress had a strange dream. In it, a voice said, “Tomorrow, let the emperor go to the stream with a fishing line. What he catches will bring the long-awaited joy into your home.” Before sunrise, the empress woke her husband. “Morning has come,” she said. “Go to the stream. I believe the dream.” The emperor took his fishing line and went where the water ran softly between stones. He had barely cast the hook when the float disappeared beneath the surface. He pulled up the line and saw a golden fish, shining as if the sun had hidden in its scales. He brought the fish to the palace. The empress cooked it herself. As a servant cleaned up after the meal, she found a tiny bone on a plate and touched it to her lips, amazed by its golden gleam. Soon a wonder took place. The empress gave birth to a son. That same night, the servant gave birth to a son as well. The boys looked so alike that they might have been reflections in a mirror. The empress’s son was named Busuioch, and the servant’s son was named Siminoch. They grew up together, learned together, and soon became not merely companions, but brothers in all but name. Both were clever, brave, and curious. If Busuioch began an adventure, Siminoch went beside him. If Siminoch found an interesting book or a hidden path in the garden, Busuioch was always there too. Years passed. The young men became so alike that people at court sometimes mistook one for the other. The empress loved both boys, but often worried that she could not recognize her own son. One day, while playing with Busuioch’s hair, she tied two small locks together in a knot. “At least then I will know which one is my boy,” she thought. That same day, Busuioch and Siminoch rode beyond the city. They traveled through green fields, listened to birds, and admired a forest they had never seen before. Under a great tree, Busuioch lay down to rest, putting his head on his friend’s lap. Siminoch noticed the knot in his hair. “Busuioch, look. Someone tied your hair.” The young prince touched the knot and frowned. “So I am not trusted,” he said. “They want to mark me as though I were a lost object.” “Do not rush to judge,” said Siminoch. “Perhaps your mother was simply worried.” But Busuioch was young, proud, and quick to anger. “I will find my own answer,” he said. “I will go out into the world.” Before leaving, he gave Siminoch a white handkerchief. “Keep this. If three red drops ever appear upon it, you will know that I am in trouble.” Siminoch asked his friend many times not to go, but Busuioch had already decided. Time passed. One evening, Siminoch took out the handkerchief and froze. On the white cloth, three dark red drops had appeared. “Busuioch is in danger,” he said. “I will find him.” Siminoch set out. He crossed towns and villages, slept beneath trees, and asked travelers and shepherds whether they had seen a young man who looked exactly like him. At last, an old woman pointed him toward a neighboring kingdom. “A young man lives there,” she said. “The ruler has welcomed him into his family, and he looks just like you.” When Siminoch entered the palace, a young princess ran toward him. “You have returned!” “I am not Busuioch,” said Siminoch gently. “I am his brother and friend. I came to learn where he is.” The princess did not believe him. So Siminoch suggested that they ask an old sword hanging on the wall, which was said to point to anyone who spoke falsely. “Let it show us who is wrong.” The sword slipped quietly from its hook, turned its handle toward the princess, and rang against a copper shield. The princess grew pale. “Now I believe you. You truly are not him.” She told Siminoch that Busuioch had ridden into the forest several days before and had not returned. The next morning, Siminoch saddled his horse and followed the trail. Deep in the forest, he saw a strange woman who vanished into a tree in an instant. She was the Forest Sorceress. Siminoch lit a small fire and sat down to rest. His dogs curled beside him. “I am cold,” came a voice from above. “Come down and warm yourself,” said Siminoch. “I am afraid of the dogs. Tie them with my hair.” The sorceress tossed down a thin lock. Siminoch felt at once that something was wrong. He touched the hair to the fire, and it flared with green flame. “This is no ordinary hair,” he thought. “Why does it smell of smoke?” asked the sorceress. “Perhaps the wind carried the smell from my fire,” Siminoch replied calmly. The sorceress climbed down. “I am very hungry,” she said. “Share my bread and cheese.” But she smiled in an unkind way. “I would rather leave you here forever, as I left another young man.” The dogs stood and growled. “Where is Busuioch?” asked Siminoch firmly. The sorceress realized that her trick had failed. “Call your dogs back, and I will show you.” Behind an ancient oak stood a tree with a hollow trunk. Inside, under a deep enchanted sleep, lay Busuioch. His horse and dogs slept nearby. The sorceress snapped her fingers, and the spell faded. Busuioch opened his eyes. “Siminoch? How did you come here?” “I came for you, brother.” They embraced. But as they rode home, suspicion began to speak again in Busuioch’s heart. “You were in my palace?” he asked. “You saw the princess?” “Yes. At first she mistook me for you, but I told her the truth at once.” Yet Busuioch began to doubt. “You look alike,” whispered his jealous thought. “Perhaps he is not telling you everything.” Siminoch was saddened. “I crossed half the world to find you. Will you trust a suspicion instead of me?” To end their quarrel, the young men decided to leave their path to chance. They tied cloths over their horses’ eyes and agreed to ride wherever the animals chose. It was not a wise plan. The forest paths were steep, and nearby lay a deep magical spring. Siminoch’s horse stepped into the mist above the water, and its rider vanished from the road as though the spring mist had carried him away. “Siminoch!” cried Busuioch. There was no answer. Only water rang softly between the stones. Then Busuioch understood, truly understood, what he had done. He returned to the palace and asked the princess again about Siminoch’s visit. She told him every word. The old sword rang against the shield once more, confirming the truth. Busuioch lowered his head. “He saved me, and I answered him with distrust.” That night, he rode once more to the magical spring, but this time not because of anger or pride. “I am going to find my friend,” he told his horse. “I will not return until I do.” As he drew near the spring, a silver light shone above the water. Busuioch saw Siminoch within it, as if his friend stood on the other side of a transparent gate in the sky. “Brother!” he called. Busuioch stretched out his hand and stepped into the light. The water glittered. The forest fell silent. High above the trees, two great stars appeared one after the other. From then on, people said, Busuioch shines in the sky as the Morning Star, and Siminoch as the Evening Star. One meets the sunrise. The other sees the day away. They do not shine together for very long, but every morning and every evening they remind us that true friendship can be wounded by distrust, and that sincere devotion can still find a road through the thickest mist.

May this story leave a little light in your heart ✨