The Day the Colors Reconciled

The Kingdom of Arciel

Once upon a time, far beyond the clouds you see through your window, there was an extraordinary kingdom named Arciel.

In this marvelous world, colors lived like inseparable friends. Red danced with Blue in the evening skies. Yellow laughed out loud while tickling the Green of the meadows. Orange and Violet held hands to paint the most beautiful sunsets. Each morning, the inhabitants of Arciel woke up amazed. Rivers sparkled with a thousand reflections. Flowers bloomed in multicolored bouquets. Birds wore plumage so brilliant they looked like flying rainbows.

White and Black watched over this kingdom like wise guardians. White brought the light of day, and Black cradled the world in the sweetness of night. Together, all the colors formed one big happy family.

But one day, without anyone really knowing why, everything began to change.

The Great Quarrel

That morning, Red woke up in a bad mood.

— Without me, he declared proudly while puffing up his hue, poppies would be nothing! Strawberries would be bland! I am the color of love and courage. I am therefore the most important!

Blue, who was passing by, burst out laughing.

— You, the most important? What a funny idea! Look at the immense sky, look at the infinite ocean. It's me who dresses them! Without me, the world would be stifling. I am the color of serenity and dreams!

Yellow then burst forth, shining like an angry little sun.

— You're joking, I hope? It's me who warms hearts! I am the color of joy, of the sun and the stars! Without my light, you would be nothing but sad shadows!

Green crossed his arms, offended.

— All of nature is green! The forests, the gardens, the leaves of the trees... I am life itself!

Orange and Violet began shouting in turn. Even Pink, usually so gentle, began to sulk in his corner. Voices rose, louder and louder, more and more bitter. The colors no longer looked at each other with tenderness. They turned their backs on each other, certain that the others were wrong.

The kingdom of Arciel, once so harmonious, now echoed with endless disputes.

The Decision of White and Black

White and Black watched this quarrel with immense sadness.

— Look at them, sighed White. They've forgotten they were a family.

— They don't listen to each other anymore, murmured Black. Each one shouts without hearing the other.

Days passed, but the arguments didn't stop. On the contrary, they got worse. The colors now refused to mix. Red avoided Blue. Yellow fled from Green. The rainbow itself was cracking.

With heavy hearts, White and Black made a terrible decision.

— Since they no longer want to live together, said White, let's separate them.

— Perhaps they'll understand then what they've lost, added Black.

And in a silent breath, the two guardians drew invisible borders throughout the entire kingdom. The colors were each sent to a different territory, alone, isolated, condemned to never meet again.

The World Turned Gray

By the next day, Arciel had changed.

Where Red reigned alone, everything was nothing but red. The trees, the houses, the sky, the water in the fountains—everything was red. At first, Red was proud. But very quickly, he found his kingdom... boring. Without the Green of leaves, without the Blue of rivers, everything looked sadly alike.

Blue, in his corner of the world, looked at his blue ocean under a blue sky, bordered by blue mountains. No more orange fish danced in the waves. No more golden sun warmed the horizon. Everything was cold and monotonous.

Yellow shone, but for whom? Without shadows to illuminate, without night to chase away, his light seemed useless.

And everywhere else, it was the same. The colors, alone in their kingdoms, slowly faded. Their hues became dull, almost gray. Flowers no longer perfumed. Birds no longer sang. The children of Arciel had forgotten how to smile.

The entire world seemed to fall asleep in a mist of sadness.

The Stranger with the Brush

One misty morning, a figure appeared at the edge of the kingdom.

It was an old man with a silver beard, dressed in a cape patched with a thousand different pieces of fabric. He advanced slowly, feeling the path with a carved wooden cane. Brushes of all sizes hung from his belt, and on his back, he carried an easel worn from travels.

This man was called Luminor. He was a painter. But not just any painter: Luminor had been blind since birth. Never had he seen the blue of the sky, the green of the meadows, or the red of roses. Never had he contemplated a sunrise or a rainbow after the rain.

And yet, he painted.

How was this possible? Luminor didn't see colors with his eyes, but he felt them with his heart. When he touched a flower, he perceived its rosy softness. When he listened to the wind, he heard the silver whisper of leaves. When he breathed the air after a storm, he inhaled the violet perfume of the calmed sky.

— This kingdom suffers, he murmured, placing his hand on the grayish ground. The colors have lost themselves. I must help them find each other again.

The Canvas of Harmony

Luminor set up his easel at the exact center of Arciel, where the borders of all kingdoms met.

He stretched his hands toward the sky and called in a gentle voice:

— Red, come to me. Tell me what you feel.

Red, curious, approached. He was so dull that one might have taken him for old pink.

— I feel... alone and tired, he admitted.

— That's because you've forgotten your friends, said Luminor tenderly. Here, give me a bit of yourself.

Red hesitated, then offered a drop of his hue. Luminor delicately placed it on his canvas.

Then he called Blue, who came dragging his feet. Then Yellow, Green, Orange, Violet, and all the others. Each in turn entrusted a part of themselves to the old painter.

And Luminor began to paint. His hands danced on the canvas. He saw nothing, but he felt everything. He mixed Red and Yellow to create a flaming Orange. He married Blue and Red to birth a deep Violet. He united Yellow and Blue to bring back to life the most tender Green.

As he painted, something magical happened. The colors on the canvas spoke to each other, embraced, laughed together. And the colors of the kingdom, those who watched, began to understand.

— Look, whispered Red, moved. When I'm with Blue, I become this magnificent violet...

— And me with Yellow, I create the most beautiful of greens! added Blue, tears in his eyes.

Luminor smiled and put down his brush.

— None of you is more important than another, he said gently. Alone, you are beautiful. But together, you are extraordinary. True beauty is born from harmony, not competition.

The Return of the Rainbow

That day, the borders melted away like snow in the sun.

Red ran to Blue to embrace him. Yellow burst out with his luminous laugh upon finding Violet again. All the colors mixed again, but differently this time. They had learned. They now knew that their differences were treasures, not obstacles.

White and Black, moved to tears, approached Luminor.

— You succeeded where we had failed, said White. How did you do it?

The old painter smiled, his blind gaze turned toward the sky he would never see.

— I cannot see your quarrels, he replied. So I only see your hearts. And your hearts, all of them, are beautiful.

That evening, the greatest rainbow the world had ever seen crossed the sky of Arciel. The colors danced there together, intertwined, joyful, free.

And since that day, the children of Arciel pass down this story from generation to generation. They know that peace doesn't mean becoming identical, but accepting to be different together. For it is in the union of differences that the most beautiful harmony is born.

As for Luminor, they say he still travels, from world to world, reminding those who forget this simple truth: we are all colors of the same rainbow.

The End