CHAPTER 1: NEL-O-FALSTIAR (Rough Draft)

(This was a rough draft and while the plot is likely to remain the same, the way it played out and other information is subject to change. There will also be a lot more details on the setting and characters involved as I proceed.)

The dark cloudy sky defused light across the tall trees in the forest as if the sun had been stretched out across the entirety of the sky. No creature could be heard or seen and the lack of wind created a setting of silence so ominous, one could only expect to perish within it. In all directions the trees bared the same pattern, spaced in the same manner and leaves would fall from each as if preforming a synchronized dance. The ground was free of all other vegetation and carried no blemish to differentiate one part from another.

Amidst all this, they was a girl. A girl who appeared too young to care for herself, but old enough to wander. And she wandered. And she knew this place. Perhaps not the place itself, but she knew its name, Nel-o-Falstiar, The Forrest of the Elder Souls. She was sure of it. She heard it in stories her mother would tell her. Those stories. Suddenly a sense of doom came over her. It was over. Her life was over. She lived less than half a dozen years, and today it ends.

“Now now, my sweet child, no need to dread,” a voice echoed through the trees as if coming from all directions, “but you do not belong here. May I ask your name?”

She mouthed her name hesitantly, but no sound came out.

“A valuable name. Perfect for me and this forest. I will take your name, and you will take my curse, in exchange, I will return you to your life, though you may find you will no longer feel welcome within it.” The voice laughed, “But first- “.

She woke up. No longer in the forest, rather she was back in her town. In front of her house. Looking at herself. Not by reflection, nor someone who appeared similar. No, she looked into the girl’s eyes who stared in fear back to her, and knew as the words the Elder Soul had told her echoed in her ears, “you will no longer feel welcome within it.” Her mother came out from the front door, she tried to call out, tried to scream and cry, “I’m here, mama!” But the mother did not see her, or could not see her. And her voice failed in favor of the tears than now drenched her face. An hour passed and she had finished crying, she whispered one last time, “I’m here.” And a young woman standing beside her replied, “I know.”