Asman Pari (The Sky Fairy)

Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a young prince named Tawalut. One day, the prince set out to tour his entire kingdom. While exploring a remote village, he came across an old woman baking bread over a clay stove. Curious, the prince approached her.

“What are you making, old mother?” he asked kindly.

“I am baking bread for my four witch sisters,” she replied without looking up.

The prince’s curiosity deepened. “Witch sisters? Do you mean they are truly witches?”

“Of course,” the old woman said. “It is my duty to prepare bread for them because they are busy guarding the path that leads to the Asman Pari—the Sky Fairy.”

“The Sky Fairy?” the prince repeated, intrigued.

“Yes, child. She is the most beautiful fairy in all the heavens and earth,” the woman said with a knowing smile.

The prince’s heart stirred with longing at the thought of such beauty. Right then, he made up his mind—he would meet this fairy, and perhaps even marry her.

He asked the old woman for directions to the Sky Fairy, but she shook her head firmly.
“Do not go that way, young prince, or you will surely lose your life,” she warned.

“Why so?” the prince asked.

“My sisters guard the path. They are fierce and hungry witches. If they see you, they will gobble you up before you take another step.”

But Prince Tawalut would not be discouraged. “Surely there must be a way to reach her safely. Please, tell me how.”

The old woman sighed, impressed by his courage. “Very well, there is one way. I will give you four loaves of bread, and in each loaf, I will place one of my rings. When you meet my sisters, offer them these breads. When they see my rings, they will know I sent you and will not harm you.”

Grateful, the prince accepted her help. She pointed him towards a dark, winding tunnel that led to the witches’ dwellings.

                                   

He first arrived at the hut of the eldest witch, a haunted shack surrounded by piles of bones. As he cautiously looked around, the witch watched him from her window with gleaming, hungry eyes. Suddenly, she burst through the door, sharp teeth bared, and lunged at him.

The prince quickly held out the bread with the hidden ring. The witch snatched it from his hand and bit into it. The moment she tasted her sister’s bread, her face softened.
“Ah, you come with my sister’s blessing. Go on,” she said.

The prince moved forward and, in the same way, encountered the second and third witches. Each time, they tried to attack him, but he offered them bread, and they recognized the rings, letting him pass.

Finally, he reached the fourth witch. Her hut was the most terrifying of all, built entirely from the bones of those she had devoured. She rushed at him with a chilling scream, but once again, he thrust the bread into her mouth. She bit into it, saw the ring, and her demeanor changed.

“I see my sister has sent you,” she said in a low, rumbling voice. “You seek the Sky Fairy, do you not?”

“Yes,” the prince said boldly.

“I can take you to her,” the witch replied, “but the journey is dangerous. The Sky Fairy lives so high above that no ladder or rope can reach her. We must climb a tower of meat to get there. You will hunt animals and gather enough meat to build this tower. But beware—if you bring even a little less than needed, our tower will collapse, and we will fall to our deaths. Do you understand?”

The prince nodded, his determination stronger than ever. He vowed to gather every bit of meat necessary, no matter how hard the hunt.

And so, with his heart full of courage and his mind fixed on the Sky Fairy, Prince Tawalut set out to complete this strange and perilous task.

The prince set out with his bow and arrows, hunting tirelessly in the forests and mountains. Day after day, he brought down deer, boars, and wild goats, gathering more and more meat. He worked until his hands were blistered, his body sore, and at last, he built a towering cliff of meat so high that it seemed to pierce the clouds.

When everything was ready, he returned to the fourth witch. “I have built the meat tower,” he said firmly. “Now, please take me to the Sky Fairy.”

The witch smiled wickedly. “Very well. Climb onto my back, and hold tight.”

With a screeching laugh, the witch leapt onto the cliff of meat, climbing higher and higher, carrying the prince with her. The higher they went, the colder and thinner the air became. The wind howled around them like a thousand whispers.

But climbing took a toll on the witch’s strength. Halfway up, she paused and said, “I am growing weak. Feed me a piece of meat to give me energy, or I will not be able to carry you further.”

The prince quickly handed her a large chunk of meat from their supply. She devoured it greedily, and with renewed strength, she climbed higher.

Again and again, the witch demanded more meat, and each time, the prince fed her. But as they neared the dazzling gates of the Sky Fairy’s palace, the prince realized with horror that their meat supply was almost gone.

Finally, with only a small distance left, the witch groaned, “I can climb no more without meat. Give me another piece!”

The prince searched frantically, but there was none left. The towering cliff of meat had been entirely eaten. Beneath them yawned a terrifying abyss, and above them shimmered the fairy’s home, so close yet out of reach.

In that desperate moment, the prince’s courage shone brighter than ever. Without hesitation, he drew his sharp hunting knife, gritted his teeth, and cut a piece of flesh from his own leg.

“Here!” he cried, his voice trembling but strong. “Take this and climb!”

The witch’s eyes gleamed as she swallowed the piece. With a final burst of strength, she climbed the last stretch, and they reached the Sky Fairy’s palace safely.

The witch licked her lips after swallowing the last piece of meat and looked down at the exhausted prince.

“Listen carefully, boy,” she hissed, her voice echoing in the wind. “When you reach the castle of the Asman Pari, remember this: if you see her with her eyes open, it means she is asleep. If her eyes are closed, she is awake. Do not be fooled.”

The prince nodded, memorizing every word.

The witch continued, “When she sees you, she will be drawn to you and invite you to sit on a chair. She will admire your handsome hair and ask, ‘Who are you?’ But you must remain silent until the morning light touches the sky. If you speak even a single word before then, she will strike you down where you stand.”

With these chilling words, the witch placed him gently at the castle gates and disappeared into the mist.

The prince stepped inside the celestial palace, his heart pounding. Everything around him shimmered with silver light—the marble floors glowed, the walls sparkled like stars, and there, at the center, sat the Sky Fairy. Her eyes were wide open, like two shining moons, yet she was fast asleep, just as the witch had said.

Quietly, the prince approached. The moment she awoke, her eyes closed, and she rose gracefully, her beauty more radiant than he had ever imagined. As soon as she saw him, she gasped softly and beckoned him closer.

“Come, stranger,” she said, her voice like the music of streams. She motioned for him to sit upon a throne-like chair. Then, admiring his flowing hair, she asked, “Who are you?”

The prince remembered the witch’s warning and remained perfectly silent, though his heart raced. Again and again, she asked, her voice sweet yet curious, but he would not speak a single word.

Night passed slowly, and as the first rays of morning light streamed through the crystal windows, the Sky Fairy’s curiosity turned to admiration. “You are strong and wise,” she said with a smile. “You did not fall for my test.”

At that moment, she fell deeply in love with him. She placed her hand in his, and her magic healed his wounds from the journey. Soon after, the two were married in a grand celebration. The prince brought the Sky Fairy back to his kingdom, where they ruled together with wisdom and kindness.

And so, Prince Tawalut and the Asman Pari lived happily ever after, their love shining brighter than the stars themselves.

This folktale is one of many timeless lessons from Gilgit-Baltistan. Discover more stories here

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