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The sound of the horses' hooves echoed loudly in the dark forest making it damn near impossible to tell where the noises were coming from. Along with the sounds of horses were voices of palace guards, and those from the magistrate's office, all shouting incoherent orders and directions.

 

A young man in draggled silk hanbok and a torn gat was running across the forest while a woman in tattered and blooded hanbok worn by palace shamans was doing her best to keep up. They were running, quite literally blind, into the night not knowing where they were headed. But one thing was certain: they need to get away from those men with torches, spears, and crossbows who were running after them.

 

The young man ran as fast as he could with the woman, her hand in his, which was the only way for them not to lose each other as they made their way through this cold and dark forest. Several times the young shaman tripped over an errant twig or an abandoned fox hole but the young man quickly pulled her back up and encouraged her to continue running for their lives.

 

He was why the palace guards and the magistrate's men were running after her. The least he could do for her now was try to get her to safety as best he could. How he was going to do that, he had no idea.

 

He had barely managed to save her from the prison after another round of torture she had to endure earlier that evening. He was amazed that she could manage to run in her state but prayed she could hold on long enough for them to find a temporary shelter from the soldiers and from the wolves and bears that called this forest home.

 

The shaman was accused of seducing him, the emperor of Joseon, with the use of black magic and that was a crime punishable by a hundred deaths. Oh, how wrong were they.

 

It was him who fell for her many years ago when he was still a young prince and had a tenacity for running away from his servants and guards to explore the palace grounds. He could not understand then why there were plenty of places in the palace that he was not allowed into despite being the crown prince. He found it ridiculous and he made it his life's goal to remove these restrictions once be became emperor.

 

During one of his adventures, when he was no older than 12 years old, he happened to find a large pavilion hidden behind a copse of trees. He hid there for a long time, laughing to himself as he thought that he had outsmarted his servants yet again. Surely, no one would think of looking for him here. He doubted even that anyone else knew of this place.

 

It looked old and abandoned and was decorated with empty shrines. There were plenty of talismans stuck on the walls, the yellow paper which were obviously aged were faded and peeling.

 

He was surprised when a young girl appeared by the entrance of the pavilion.

 

"Who are you?" The girl asked, annoyance and surprise mingled in her voice.

 

This irked the young prince. How insolent! He blamed himself for changing into regular silk robes instead of the deep blue hanbok of the crown prince that was his daily attire. If she'd seen the majestic silver dragon embroidered on it she would probably kowtow before him and beg for her life.

 

"I should be asking you that," the young prince responded cockily, a smirk on his lips, his hands clasped behind him as he approached the girl, eyeing her curiously.

 

She was several years younger than him, obviously, and was a few inches shorter than him as well. Her skin was milky white with just the right amount of pink on her cheeks and lips. Her hair was pulled back into a neat braid which was customary of young women of their time. He eyed her hanbok. He had never seen any of the palace servants and kitchen maids wear that kind of hanbok of black silk skirt and multicolored sleeves.

 

Her eyes had turn into slits and were regarding him with a look he has never seen anyone give him. He had lived his life basking in the adoration of his parents, his older sister, and his annoying little brother. He was used to the admiration from the minister's sons that he grew up with, and had been accustomed to receiving the reverence from the palace servants.

 

But this girl did not look at him like that. The fact that she dared look straight at his face and his eyes were admirable, if not impudent. Only those who worked for him in his quarters and the members of the immediate royal family had that rare privilege. But here was a waif thin girl defying the laws and customs of their land.

 

"How did you find this place? This is mine," the young girl asked authoritatively.

 

"Yours?" the young prince shot back incredulously.

 

"Yes. Mine. This pavilion is mine. My sanctuary. The temple where I practice and hone my powers. No one was supposed to find this. I made sure of that!" the girl ranted lividly.

 

This shocked and irked the young prince and he could not control his temper any longer.

 

"First of all, this pavilion can't be yours. It's mine. Like every other building, shrine, and wall in this palace. Every standing tree, the waters running along the streams that cut through the palace grounds, all the flowers in the gardens here, down to each weed and dead leaf on the ground, they're all mine," the prince said mockingly. How dare this insolent wench claim ownership over his property. Come to think of it, even she belongs to him. After all, he is the Wangseja. He is Joseon.

 

The girl did not change her facial expression. There was no hint as to whether she understood what he meant by what he said and it annoyed him even more. This girl is insolent and dumb!

 

"You don't know who I am," the prince said condescendingly.

 

"I know who you are. You are the Dragon," the girl said coolly. Her eyes seemed to go out of focus for a second as she said this.

 

The young prince eyed her warily. How did she know? He's never been on this side of the palace grounds before and he has certainly not seen any girls her age around the places he's been. He doubted that she has seen him in his usual hanbok, too.

 

"And I also know you are in deep trouble. Your servants are looking for you," the girl said. "And Daewangdaebi Mama (Grand Royal Queen Dowager) has heard of your running away again. I think you better go back before Sangwang Jeoha (Emperor) himself finds out," the girl said with a mocking smile.

 

"How did you know that?" The young prince asked authoritatively.

 

"Does it matter? You better hurry, it looks like it's going to rain," she said with a casual shrug. And no sooner than she said it, the bright blue sky darkened as heavy clouds rolled in seemingly out if nowhere.

 

The young prince grumbled before bolting out of the pavilion and down the wooden stairs. He was barely ten steps away from the building when the heavy rain started pouring nearly drowning him. He turned around with every intention of running back to the pavilion to wait out the rain but he was surprised to find nothing but an empty patch of land covered with plenty of dead leaves that belong to him.

 

He was scared, alright, but he knew what he saw and he remembered the insolent girl's face. The weeks that followed he spent trying to find the girl all to no avail. He even asked his chief eunuch to find the girl but even the older man, despite all his connections and influence over the palace staff, failed.

 

It wasn't until two years had passed when he managed to find his way back to the patch of land where he met the girl first. He was on his usual walk around the palace grounds with his servants and guards. He was deep in thought about the last audience with the king and the ministers that he attended.

 

The ministers were insisting that his younger half brother be sent away from the palace. There was already a crown prince and as was customary and mandated by Royal Laws, only one prince was allowed to reside in the palace.

 

He didn't like the idea. His younger brother, the Daegun, son of his father's Bin (Imperial Concubine), was no older than five years old. The loud and playful boy was the Bin's pride and joy and was a welcome companion to the him when he was feeling tired after his lessons. Although he rarely sees the Bin, he knew it would kill her to part with her only son.

 

He walked without any direction nor intention. It wasn't until he was already at the foot of the stairs did he realize where he was. He was surprised to find the old structure there looking exactly the same way as he remembered it. He ordered his servants to stay back by the patch of oak trees, far enough where he knew they would not be able to hear through the paper-thin walls of the building. His chief guard protested but one scathing glare from him and the burly guard was silenced. Somehow the 14 year-old boy knew he would find her there again that day.

 

It was no surprise when he saw her in front of the shrine surrounded by candles and burning incense. She had her back to him but he could see she was doing some sort of ritual. Talismans were scattered at her feet and she was rattling a bundle of small silver bells in her ringed hand as she chanted prayers under her breath. She was taller now but still nearly a head shorter than him. Her hair had grown longer, too, he noted.

 

The fumes from the incense sent his mind swimming and immediately he felt himself relax. His worries ebbed away like the last note of a forgotten song.

 

When he regained his senses, he found the girl facing him but unlike the insolence she showed him the first time they met, this time she held her head low in polite reverence.

 

They stood like that for several moments. He sensed a powerful aura about her that was hard to miss. It felt was like she was the air that he breathed, the light that made him see, and the wonderful sounds of the world, all at the same time.

 

"What are you?" The Crown Prince asked still in a daze.

 

"I am a shaman in training, Jeoha," the girl responded without missing a beat. She didn't seem surprised by the question, even.

 

The Crown Prince then understood why he had never seen her around the palace. State shamans had their own little compound near the farthest walls of the palace, right at the foot of the mountains and beside the spring that supplied the water inside the palace. He had never been there and shamans were rarely seen outside of their compound. They were at the exclusive disposal of his grandmother and occasionally, his mother.

 

But what did not make sense to him was the way she carried herself. The way she carried her shoulders and straightened her back made her seem regal even with her head bowed down in polite reverence. There was something about her that did not quite mesh well with her being a shaman.

 

"What are you doing here, then? Aren't you supposed to be in the shaman's compound?" He asked again.

 

"Ye, Jeoha. But I sensed a disturbance and I came here to pray alone. Even now I can sense that you worry about him," the girl said in a kind, almost loving, tone.

 

The crown prince did not know how she knew but he understood what she meant.

 

"I only wished to allay your worries. Do not fret Jeoha, the Daegun-nim will be well. I have prayed to the spirits and the gods and to the ancestors to protect him as they do you," she added head still bowed low.

 

The young woman stepped back before turning around to gather her things into a tattered wicker basket. She gave a low bow before trying to leave. Thankfully, the Crown Prince knew better and stopped her.

 

"I have my servants and guards downstairs. They know I came up here. If they see you..." his voice trailed off. Thankfully, the girl understood.

 

"I will leave first then you can follow once we are far away enough. Can I see you again?" his question and the sense of urgency in the way he delivered it surprised even himself. He knew as a Crown Prince he was not supposed to meet with women outside of his family. And to be meeting with a shaman in training, at that. This was beyond scandalous! But he didn't care. The girl before him fascinated him and he wanted to get to know her better, Royal Laws and age-old traditions be damned.

 

And he did get to know her in the weeks, months, and years that passed when they would secretly meet in the old pavilion that was her private temple (he conceded early on in their relationship that it was hers, and it was the only thing in the entire kingdom that did not belong to him).

 

They became good friends and he always looked forward to their rather illicit meetings. They didn't do anything particularly enjoyable. They mainly talked about mundane things. Sometimes he brought her books, ink and paper, and taught her how to read and write.

 

She always had interesting stories to tell about her trips outside the Royal Palace. She described everything and everyone with precise details that he was sure he would be able to recognize the town herbalist and the butcher if he saw them in a crowd.

 

She was very animated and lively, her eyes shone whenever she talked about things and people she liked. And he was always drawn to her. He could listen to her talk and laugh at her own silliness for hours. One time she brought with her a stray cat she had found underneath a bridge on her way back from a trip to the candle-makers. He spent that afternoon getting scratched by the furry creature but he didn't mind. Hearing her laughter was worth the pain.

 

He watched her become a young woman and he was mesmerized by her during those stolen hours in the Pavilion. She grew to be a beautiful young lady. Intelligent, independent, kind-hearted, selfless, and strong-willed all in equal measures. She didn't hide her thoughts and feelings, especially not to him. And it was only with her in the incense filled pavilion did he ever feel like himself. He found that he rather enjoyed the feeling of being a normal person without having to constantly watch his step or keep his mouth shut in case prying eyes and listening ears were abound.

 

He called her Nabi. His beautiful butterfly. Always fluttering and somewhat rather whimsical.

 

Eventually they fell in love even though both of them knew well that nothing good will come of it, that they were committing a crime of the highest order. Every kiss they shared, she warned, would have dire consequences down the road but he took his chances anyway.

 

He was 19 when he could no longer evade the selection for Wangsejabin (Crown Princess). He wanted to say no, put his foot down and demand that he be allowed to choose his wife. That he had already chosen a girl many years ago. But he knew he couldn't. Him mentioning her name would spell death for her. He may be young but he was not by any stretch dumb.

 

That time, just before the selection, he wanted to run away but his Nabi discouraged him. He had pleaded to her like a spoiled boy who needs to always get what he wants. He begged her to run away with him but she just smiled at him and patiently said that there was no place else for them. That the Palace was where they both belong, him as the future Jusang Jeonha and her as a shaman.

 

She said he was meant to be Emperor and do great things for Jeoson and its people. That he should not be selfish, that he should not throw away his and the people's destiny and future for a lowly shaman like her. She had always been like that, putting him first before herself, using every bit of power and magic she knew to protect him. She was selfless like that and it made him love her even more.

 

She ended their relationship shortly before his wedding ceremony to the Minister of Justice's daughter. She had put up a brave front that last afternoon they secretly met in her pavilion, even performing a ritual to bless his impending union with the snooty Bingung from the Jung household. She also gave him a silk talisman with jade and pearls that she said would ensure his first child would be a healthy heir to the throne.

 

Despite her easy smile, he knew it nearly killed her as much as it did him. He also threw the silk talisman into the pond on his walk back to his chambers. He watched as it was swallowed by the dark murky water, hoping that he could drown his pain with it.

 

They rarely saw each other again after that except on the rare occasions when he would accidentally find her in his grandmother's chambers, then eventually, his mother's. His mother had been fond of her even when she was just an apprentice shaman. She was easy to like and impossible to hate. That was part of her power over people.

 

In the years they have been apart, she had risen up the ranks, eventually becoming the State Shaman - the youngest to ever take the position - and had taken up a young child as an apprentice, or so he heard from his mother.

 

He always knew she was powerful. That she managed to control the skies and make a whole pavilion disappear at the age of nine was proof of that. He felt a sense of pride that he knew firsthand of her power. He also knew that her heart was in the right place and that she would never use her gift and powers for evil.

 

He ascended the throne at age 23 after his father's untimely and suspicious death. All his attempts to uncover the truth had been thwarted by the Ministers and he knew he had angered them with his obstinacy many times over.

 

It has been three years since then and his mother is anxious since he and the Wangbi have yet to conceive an heir to the throne. She knew of the restlessness of the people and understood that her son's position was in peril. Already there were secret meetings between members of the opposition as they planned to overthrow him. They were also reportedly looking for his younger brother, the same boy they threw out of the Royal Palace because there could only be one Crown Prince inside these walls.

 

If it were up to him he would have given the throne to his brother and left the Palace long ago. He didn't need the power or the stress that came with being Jusang. All he needed to be happy was the beautiful shaman that he fell in love with nearly ten years prior.

 

Yesterday, he again found himself standing outside the old and abandoned pavilion. He was very much alone but did not remember when and where he lost his servants and guards. He looked up at the derelict building that held so many memories of him with his Nabi and he already knew what was waiting for him inside. He saw her again, this time in a pristine white hanbok surrounded by candles. Before her lay a brass bowl which held crackling fire. She was chanting prayers under her breath as she burned familiar yellow paper talismans onto the fire before her.

 

The air around her was charged and the young Emperor did not dare move closer for fear of getting struck by lighting. He noticed how the candles were burning bright red and the flames impossibly high. The brass bowl had tall blue-green flames and he nearly gasped at the realization. Thankfully, he managed to stop himself from saying anything. He knew well not to disturb her when she's working, so he just opted to stand near the entrance watching her do her magic.

 

When she was done, when the air seemed to calm down and the candles and the brass bowl were emitting ordinary orange flames. She said a final prayer before bowing to the images displayed on the shrine.

 

"Who are you praying for this time?" the he asked when he was certain that she was no longer with the spirits, gods, and ancestors. Upon hearing his voice, she turned around. If she was surprised to find him here she did not show it.

 

"You. It's always you that I pray for," she said honestly. He had seen her many times before, in various colored hanboks, but he was still mesmerized by the sight of her in white. While the color traditionally connotes sadness and mourning, on her it made her look so innocent, pure, and perfect. His white Nabi.

 

The young Emperor smiled at her before closing the gap between them. He held her face in his hands before kissing her full on the lips. Oh, heavens, how he had missed this. Them, together like this.

 

She melted into the kiss like he knew she would. Even when they were younger she still melted into him despite her initial protests and warning that what they were doing was wrong. He knew deep down that she felt it, too. The same passion, desire, love and adoration for her that was burning inside him, he could feel something akin to that inside her. The way she enthusiastically returned his kiss, her arms snaking behind his back to embrace him, told him that and more.

 

More. He wanted more.

 

He pulled her closer to him without breaking their kiss so now their bodies were flushed close. He cursed the Chinese silk that they wore. He wanted nothing between them.

 

He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin against his, to explore her and discover the many sounds she could make when in the throes of passion. He had never felt this kind of desperate desire for anyone, not even with the queen after taking the bitter tonics made by the palace apothecaries. And he liked that only she could induce this kind feeling in him. He deepened their kiss, tongue and teeth clashing. It was carnal but underneath it was passion and deep, deep love.

 

She broke off their kiss when they finally remembered that air was a necessity. He held her face again and looked into her eyes. There was something there that made him feel uneasy. She looked sad and resigned.

 

"I want you," he said imploringly with every ounce of sincerity he had.

 

"I know. But we both know it's wrong. I have seen what will happen and you coming here today tells me that it is beyond my powers to alter the future. I have done my best to make sure that at least you will not be harmed, I promise you," she said sounding very sad.

 

"Harmed? What do you mean? What will happen?" he asked in confusion. The sadness and resignation in both her voice and eyes unsettled him. She had been nothing but an image of resilience, happiness, and love to him. Seeing her in this state was something foreign and unwelcome to him.

 

"There is nothing that we can do now. This is the end for us now. Jeonha, I beg of you, don't come looking for me again. For your own sake and safety. But know well that I love you, now until forever," she said before planting a sweet kiss on her beloved king's lips.

 

He knew she did something to him when he could not move or say anything as she quickly left him in the pavilion. Minutes later, his guards and servants found him right where he was standing.

 

The following morning he learned that the state shaman was dragged from her pavilion and into the magistrate's office for allegedly bewitching the King. One of the Queen's handmaids had been following the King and saw that he had met with the State Shaman in a hidden pavilion near the edge of the palace grounds, she claims that the state shaman had done a ritual of black magic to lure and bewitch the King.

 

There was nothing he could do. If he barged into the Magistrate's office and demanded her release they would only assume that she had indeed worked dark magic on him and immediately order her beheaded to break the spell.

 

He had his most trusted guard to report to him the progress of the investigation. His anger flared when he learned that they have begun to torture her to make her confess her crimes and undo the magic she allegedly did but she grit her teeth through it all.

 

He felt truly and utterly helpless. He was the King of Jeoson with the power to wage war and control whole armies. A word from him would change the lives of countless people and their descendants, either for good or worse depending on his whim, but he was ironically powerless to save the life of a shaman woman.

 

Was this what she saw? She knew this would happen but she did not do anything to save herself. He was mad at her for not saying anything yesterday. Had he known, he would have taken her away from the castle, to some relative safety of one of the royal family's vacation homes in the mountains in a far away province.

 

But maybe it wasn't too late? He could still save her, drag her away if need be. The rest of the day the King worked on a plan to escape. Not just for her but for him, as well. He decided to leave everything behind; the throne, his family, his destiny. None of it was worth the pain of losing her.

 

When night came, the King called on the child in him to find the old passageways and hidden back doors of the palace which he committed to memory when he was a young boy. He was slightly amused by the fact that it had been so easy to leave the palace grounds without setting off any suspicion. Even his closest servants and guards were utterly clueless.

 

When he arrived at the Magistrate's quarters, he paid off a guard handsomely to let him inside the prison. His knees nearly gave in when he saw her state: hair a mess, lips chapped and bleeding, her clothes torn and crusted with her dried blood.

 

She was sitting up against the wooden bars looking tired and defeated. When she saw him, something lit behind her eyes. The young King managed to walk on his wobbly knees towards her.

 

"Jeonha, what are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here. I told you not to find me. Leave now before anyone finds you, Jeonha," she pleaded.

 

"Stop worrying about me and worry about yourself!" he snarled angrily.

 

"I know what I am doing. I will get you out of here. We'll run away tonight. Let's leave the capital," he said with determination.

 

"What?" she said sounding perplexed. 

 

"I'm getting you out of here. We'll live somewhere far. Somewhere we can see the ocean or a lake," he said wistfully, already imagining a peaceful life with her.

 

"No. No. This is not how it's supposed to be. This is not how I saw this was going to happen," she said shaking her head, trying to make sense of everything.

 

"This is how I want this to happen. You said you cannot change the future, but I can. And I am changing it. Now. Wait for me here. I will get you out," he said before finding the guard with the keys to the cell. He paid the skinny man a small fortune for the keys and to guide them out of the Magistrate's office through a gap in the wall that fell straight to a small ditch. From there they made a dash for the forest and have been running since.

 

The two of them continued race through the forest in a bid to put a wide distance between them and the guards, all while hoping they could find a safe place to hide. He could feel his lungs and legs burning, his feet ached from stepping on one too many rocks, and there was a nasty stitch on his side that was slowing him down. He quickly looked over to the woman running alongside him.

 

In the moonlit forest, he could see her skin was pale and clammy, dried swatches of her own blood tainting her beautiful face. Beads of sweat formed on her hairline and trickled down the side of her face and neck where it mixed with fresh blood. She was breathing through because one of her torturers had probably bashed her face and broken her nose.

 

The runaway King felt his blood boil. He wanted to find every bastard that laid a finger on her and have them beheaded in front of him. But that will have to wait. Right now they needed to run, she needed to survive.

 

A few paces more and she collapsed in a heap of bloodied and torn silk. She was lying on a patch of dead leaves surrounded by tall forest bush.

 

"I can't go on anymore. I'm too tired. I'm sorry, Jeonha. You should go back. Back to the palace where you belong. They wouldn't hurt you, I'm sure of it. Leave me and save yourself," she pleaded, every breath seemed labored and the young King felt her pain tenfold.

 

He knelt on the dewy ground in front of her and held her hands. There were also dried blood there and he could feel deep cuts on her palms. She had lost several nails too, from what he could see but she did not seem to feel the pain. Or maybe she has gone numb from the running and the cold.

 

The night was silent and the air still. By some miracle they seemed to have managed to outrun the men but they shouldn't sit here like waiting ducks.

 

"No. I don't want to go back. I don't need that life. I don't want to live in that gilded cage where my allies are also my enemies. It's you I want to be with. I can live anywhere and survive anything as long as I'm with you," he did his best to keep his voice from shaking.

 

"And I, with you. But we knew from the start this was wrong. I knew this would happen. I saw it the moment I saw you in my pavilion all those many years ago. I tried to stay away from you, to keep our paths from crossing but you always manage to find me. That day I was praying for your brother, and yesterday, you found me again. I did not wish for this to happen, Jeonha," she sobbed, hot tears streaming down her ashen face. He cupped her face in his hands which were now wet with the blood from her palms.

 

"Don't say that. It's not your fault. It was mine. I could not keep myself away from you despite the many times that you pushed me away, telling me that what we have is wrong. I'm sorry, I was not able to protect you. I'm the most powerful man in this kingdom but I failed to protect the only woman that I loved. The only woman I will ever love," he said, his tears blurring his vision.

 

Suddenly they heard the sounds of the men chasing them, they seemed to have left the horses and were now cutting through the forest floor's foliage on foot. The young King tensed and he felt her heart skip a beat. He tried to pull her up with him but she no longer had the strength to stand up.

 

"This is the end for me, Jeonha. I am sorry," she said, her voice soft and extremely weak.

 

"No, no, don't say that. They're still far away. We can run. I'll carry you on my back. We'll get out of here. We'll find a town where we can get clothes and food. I brought a lot of money and some jewelry we can sell. I'll find a doctor to treat your wounds. We'll make it. We'll live far away from the capital, in an island where no one will know who we are, what we were. We'll be happy. Please, my butterfly, don't give up on me now," he pleaded frantically.

 

He could hear the sounds of the approaching men as they came closer, his heart was hammering in his chest. He knew they wouldn't hurt him. He was still their King after all. What they would do to her when they find her he did not want to know.

 

"I will never give up on you. I promise. Hold me," she said weakly as she tried to pull herself up. She traced his cheek with her hands, eyes roaming as she seemingly tried to memorize what he looked like. He stared into her eyes. There was no pain. No sadness. Oddly, there was only contentment.

 

The young king was about to pull her into his arms to carry her away when she started speaking softly, the faintness of her voice a signed of her weakened state, causing him to stop. Instead he laid her back on his lap, an arm behind her head as support. She looked too fragile and helpless and it broke his heart.

 

"In this lifetime we were not meant to be. Maybe the future holds our happiness. Wait for me, my love. I will find you again and I shall remember all the happiness and love that you made me feel. With the last of my blood, breath, and life, I shall protect you. I love you, my King, my Dragon," the last sentence she said with a serene smile and not long after she closed her eyes and her hand fell heavily on to the wet earth.

 

"Sandara?" He whispered her name in a bid to wake her up, hoping against hope that she had just fallen asleep due to fatigue.

 

He called her name several more times, only realizing then that he should have called her by her real name more often when she could still hear him. She always said she liked hearing her name from his lips.

 

Sandara. A unique name for an extraordinary woman that turned a spoiled boy to an upright man, and made the King of Jeoson human. He kissed her one last time, her last breath still warm on her pale lips.

 

The young king knew she was gone but he could not get himself to leave her, not here in this dark forest where soldiers were hunting her down. Despite her state he knew they would still defile her. She was a shaman after all. In the eyes of society, shamans were barely human. But to him, he was his everything.

 

He hugged her lifeless body to his chest as he sobbed, cursing his life, family and destiny. As he wallowed in his loss, tears flooding his eyes as painful sobs wracked his body, he did not notice how the forest became suddenly quiet, the wind warmer, and night suddenly lit by tiny golden flecks of light, like a thousand minuscule stars suspended in the forest air.

 

The guards spent the rest of the evening scouring through every square foot of the forest until dawn but found no trace of the wicked shaman and their bewitched young King.

 

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