A warm sun kissed Orin's face as he raced through the wood surrounding his father's tower. The forest, which might have been eerie in its stillness, was alive with the sound of the child's laughter. The trees stood tall and proud, their leaves shimmering and dancing in the cool breeze, casting playful shadows on the ground. It was almost as if the trees themselves were playing along with Orin, and perhaps they were.

In the distance, the tower stood tall, and his father watched from its base, surrounded by wildflowers—vibrant blues, golds, purples, and so many other hues that listing them all would take too long. As Orin ran with his friends, his footsteps were nearly silent, unlike the normal sounds of children running through a woodland. One might almost think that the grass itself had chosen a favorite in this boy.

"Do the thing!" one of the children shouted.

"Fine, but this is the last time!" Orin replied, kneeling down and holding his hands carefully toward a rose bush. He was mindful not to be pricked by the thorns, as one should always be when dealing with such plants. Suddenly, the bush burst into a vibrant bloom, deep red petals unfurling all at once.

"Woah!" the other children exclaimed in awe.

"Catch me if you can!" Orin called as he took off running, deeper into the wood, his friends chasing after him. The sun bathed him once again, and this time Orin felt stronger, lighter. He moved so quickly that before he realized it, the tower was no longer in sight.

As he paused, gazing back in the direction he had come, a strange sensation crept over him. The energy that had filled him moments ago drained away just as suddenly. The sky darkened, turning gray as rain began to pour. Thunder rumbled through the earth, and flashes of lightning lit up the sky.

Behind him, Orin heard the sound of ripping grass. He turned, his heart racing. Two figures stood there—one large and imposing, exuding a terrifying aura, and the other smaller, almost sickly, with tangled, wiry white hair that gave them a ghostly, haunting presence. A wave of dread washed over him, every instinct screaming at him to run, to flee as fast as he could. He tripped over a root, a Sunroot. The figures approached menacingly. The grass wrapped around their feet to try and stop them, only to be ripped from the ground.