Prologue

Roses are red, pink, yellow, white; they bloom and wither, live and die—but there are some that don't. There's an old legend. A simple children's fantasy, that tells of a mystical garden somewhere in the forest. A garden filled with beautiful red roses that never wither or die. They say it's hidden among the trees, blended with nature, transparent to the eye. It's impossible to find it, or see it for that matter.

It's a legend—a legend no one knows.

The garden holds a secret between it's entrails. A beautiful secret that is said to shine among the roses. But no one will know it, no one will see it, unless they've been chosen by the garden itself. Only one person is chosen out of all there is. That person is yet to be found.

The garden remains a secret—a secret of a legend no one knows.

— The Boy in the Garden.