According to the title of this you must have already assumed I am the narrator of your story, though I'm way more than you think. Yes I am the person who knows everything but I'm not just an unimportant story teller you will never hear from again. In fact I am a real person in this tale of mystical creatures and magic kingdoms.
As a reader you for sure are curious of who I am, but I can not tell you exactly everything; well not from my perspective at least. Yes it might sound strange but the story is not mine to tell at all, it is my mother's.
And why am I telling you it this way and not her instead? Well I was once very young, and curious; asking about my mother was the first thing I ever really did. As a child I never knew my parents and was told I had to be protected in order to stay alive. So not having them I always asked questions, especially about my mother because I was told I'd never find her if I looked. Not until she was born.
Curious now? That desire truly ran my whole life when I was young. It ran my mother's life even more than mine because she had no memory of a family or where she came from either. Being curious is just second nature just as much as love and magic from where I come from, but sometimes it takes a person too far.
You must be wondering how could I tell you a story through the eyes of my mother, with her thoughts and perspective, it's simple really. Magic of course! It can take a person anywhere, even back to a different time.
So here it goes, the story of how my mother died. I'm going to leave you with one last thought in your mind, her death was meant to happen.
Her story starts in a forest, after I was born... way after. Or in her perspective shall I say before?