In the heart of a small village nestled at the edge of a vast, uncharted forest, whispers of an ancient legend stirred the imaginations of the townsfolk. By day, they spoke of ordinary life—market stalls, crop harvests, and the humdrum rhythm of existence—but by night, as the moon climbed high into the sky, their conversations turned to the forest beauty.
Some claimed to have seen the figure: a being dressed in flowing white robes, their face hidden behind an elegant white mask. Others swore they had heard the songs that drifted through the trees, haunting melodies that stirred emotions long buried. It was said that those who heard the forest beauty's song found their love strengthened, their hearts lighter, and their souls forever changed.
But none dared to venture too far into the forest. The path leading into its depths was cloaked in perpetual night, and the blue moonlight that illuminated it gave the place an otherworldly air. It was no place for mortals, they believed—no place for those who wished to return.
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It was during one such moonlit night that a small boy, no older than ten, sat by the fireplace in his tiny home. His mother and father were asleep, their snores echoing softly through the modest room. But the boy could not sleep. His mind was alive with thoughts of the forest beauty.
The boy, named Arin, had always been drawn to tales of the extraordinary. While others were content to dismiss the stories as myths or fairytales, Arin believed in them with all his heart. He had never seen the forest beauty, but he felt their presence every time he looked at the blue moonlight streaming through his window.
That night, inspired by the whispers and his own vivid imagination, Arin picked up a piece of parchment and began to write. The words flowed from his small, calloused hands, each line more beautiful than the last.
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The Boy's Poem:
"Not a girl, nor bound by name,
A beauty of pure light and flame.
In a white dress and mask so fair,
Songs of love float through the air.
In the forest, where night is day,
Under the moon's blue, gentle sway.
The forest beauty, perfect and bright,
Brings peace and love in the softest light."
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When the poem was finished, Arin read it over several times, a proud smile lighting up his face. He didn't care whether anyone believed in the forest beauty; he wanted the world to know about their kindness, their strength, their sacrifice. He carefully folded the parchment and tucked it into his coat pocket.
In the quiet hours before dawn, Arin tiptoed out of his home. The village was still asleep, the streets silent and empty. He walked to the center of the square, where the cobblestone road glistened faintly in the moonlight. With a sense of purpose far beyond his years, he placed the poem on the ground and anchored it with a smooth stone.
"Let them see," he whispered to himself. "Let them know."
He lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the parchment, before turning and disappearing into the shadows. By the time the first rays of sunlight touched the village, Arin was back in his bed, his small chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber.
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As the village awoke, the poem was discovered. Townsfolk gathered around it, their voices a mix of curiosity and awe.
"Who could have written this?" asked an elderly man, his eyes squinting as he read the lines.
"It's about the forest beauty," said a young woman. "The words... they're beautiful."
"Do you think it's true?" asked a boy Arin's age. "Do you think the forest beauty is real?"
The poem spread quickly, passed from hand to hand, whispered from mouth to mouth. By the end of the day, it was as if the entire village had heard it. And though no one knew who had written it, the poem ignited a sense of wonder in their hearts.
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Far beyond the village, deep within the forest, Kim sat beneath the blue moon, his delicate white mask catching the faint glow of the light. Though no mortal could see him, he felt the poem's energy ripple through the air, reaching him like a faint whisper.
Kim smiled softly, his voice a gentle murmur. "A child with faith… such innocence is rare. Perhaps this world still has hope."
As he adjusted his flowing white robes, the moonlight seemed to embrace him, a silent companion to his solitude. Kim began to hum a melody, a song filled with longing, love, and a promise to protect those who believed in him—even if it meant sacrificing his own place in the heavens.
And so, the legend of the forest beauty grew, its roots reaching deeper into the hearts of all who heard the tale. But what none could know was how deeply the events set in motion that night would alter their fates—and the world—forever.
To be continued...