“My angel!”

A beautiful boy with silvery hair was running after a tall guy whom he called angel—making his way into a black forest, the world of thorns, full of dark and mythological creatures.

The forest was as dark like he was running into an endless tunnel without flickers of light that surrounded by unseeable thorns, and the roaring sound of wild creatures shook everybody who passed by yet the boy scared of nothing but being left by his angel.

He was indeed a ten-year-old boy who was living with his three aunts—Flora, Fauna and Merryweather—in a small village but he often spent his time tailing his angel. He saw him everywhere but the guy kept on running away from him, though he’d begged him for countless of times to stay but his angel never once listened to him but left.

He kept his focus only to his angel who was walking faster and full of speed, holding a staff, wearing all in black and he had tattoos on his left arm, also on the left side of his neck up to his left cheek. Although it seemed a little scary but to the silver-haired boy, his angel was nothing but beautiful and ethereal.

Suddenly he stumbled to the ground when he accidentally stepped on a decayed wood that had him yelped in pain after he realized his left foot had wounded.

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