There are two things the villagers know about the pink rose that appeared not that far from the village:
One, it's beautiful. It was the sole pink flower among the green grass on the field, and is certainly an eye-catching view.
Second, it's dangerous. The news of the men who were unfortunately captured by the mysterious rose spread like wildfire. Horror and fear struck the villagers. The flower's no ordinary. Nothing but ordinary. A rose with chains that drained the life of any being it comes in contact with certainly wasn't ordinary.
Not so long ago, a pink rose sprung and blossomed among the green grass. Its pink petals opened to its full bloom and met the rays of the sun.
Few steps away was the village of Orphis. Orphis are mortals who are not capable of wielding magic. Among the inhabitants of the world Pagea, Orphis are the only pure breed human kind, thus making them unable to use magic of any sorts. They tend to stay away from anything involved with magic, for they believe this would cause them nothing but trouble and misfortune.
So, on the appearance of the enchanted rose shrouded with mystery, the once lively small village on the wide open field turned into a ghost town. Nothing left but the abandoned houses of the former inhabitants of the area.
The enchanted rose on the other hand, continued to exist. Surviving rains, drought and passersby who were either purely enchanted by its beauty or came with the intention to pluck the rose from the place it sprung. Even mages, elves or any kin capable of magic didn't stand a chance against the enchanted rose. For behind the enchanted rose were five sentinels guarding and ensuring it won't be harmed by anyone. Sentinels born out of the rose's petals aided with prowess to protect it.
The ground would shake if someone steps near into the enchanted rose. As if a warning not to come closer. Little by little the shaking intensifies knocking down anyone who stood, still not taken aback by the warning. And if those weren't enough to scare away the trespasser, chains would rise from behind the green grass—chains capable of neutralizing even the strongest magic cast upon it— and grips the body until it breathes its last.
It was the very same rusty chains that drained the life out of a village man, dawning fear to the witnesses of his doom.
YOU ARE READING
To The Elf in Kornor Village: A Prelude
FantasyScribbler here, scribbling. I don't know about you, but I don't like knowing too much about a story before actually reading it. It gives it all away, my opinion. So I won't write a detailed blurb here. Instead, let me tell you what you ought to know...
