ONE NIGHT where the skies were dark and the stars hid behind the clouds, a comet fell and streaked through the air. It was like a star, it was so bright that it lit the way it fell through with luminous green light.
A sight to behold it was, for it only passes once in a decade, and it was much awaited far and wide from all over Pagea.
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The next morning after the comet passed–which they are unaware of–the sentinels woke up to the sight of their worst nightmare. Tiny but evident cracks were formed from the soil below the rose, the edges of the leaves began to turn brown and dry; the pink petals showed signs of darkening tips.
"The rose is wilting!" exclaimed them all.
They all tried to check the possible causes. Is it the lighting? Water supply? Or something in the roots?
But they found none. Which made it more puzzling.
For as long they could remember there has been no time that the rose showed signs of wilting. Not even the slightest. Nor that they expect for it to.
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...
