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Nameless: A Fairy Tale
by A Very Tall Oak Tree in City Park
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Morgan Kinwyr had been knighted at the age of eighteen. He served the
Westerly army as faithfully as had his forefathers, and lived his life
strictly according to the chivalric values that he swore to protect
when he came of age. Women lost their hearts to him, men were envious
of him. He had no cause to be unhappy, yet his dissatisfaction with
the Great Wars set him apart from the rest of his lineage. Unlike his
ancestors, who could witness the deaths of loved ones without feeling
the slightest heartache, Morgan had come to find that watching good,
kind men with needy families slaughtered caused a great deal more pain
than his father had described. His ability to fight and live stemmed
from the anger that sprung from his well of unhappiness.
Disillusionment with war had finally fallen upon the Kinwyr family.
And so, now that the end of the Great Wars had finally come, Morgan
Kinwyr crossed the Eastern border and delved into the deep Eastern
Wood to find the wise woman of the mountains. He wanted to know if the
wars would end, if he could finally live in peace. He ignored the
bewildered calls of his fellows, riding on without once looking back.
Morgan prayed that he would not be ambushed; he meant these people no
harm. Every now and again he fancied that he caught a glimpse of eyes
burning from the forest’s shadowy cloak, boring through him, reading
his soul. Windswept was unsettled, snorting softly and starting at the
tiniest sounds. Morgan patted him half-heartedly, hoping to soothe
him. He did not want to make this journey alone.
The woman he sought called herself Mildred. She lived
beyond all known villages, high in the mountains, where the blackest
of magics lurked, waiting for a dark soul to come and tame them.
Mildred knew things…she could see beyond the obvious, past the
unknown, and into the realms of thought that were as yet unexplored by
the human mind. Morgan had lost himself in tales of the mystic
Easterlies as a child and had always longed to know them, to learn
their arts. Now, as he ventured further and further into the Easterly
Wood, he became increasingly aware of the magics that were present
there and the disadvantage of his not knowing them. Windswept started
suddenly, rearing up and dislodging his master. Spooked, the
frightened horse tumbled out of sight into the blackness, his white
coat fading into shadow.
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