The forest was quiet—almost too quiet for a place so alive with color.
Beneath the eerie glow of a half-moon, the trees of Benzo Forest shimmered with a strange, golden hue. Their bark was textured in soft waves of brown and yellow, giving the entire woodland a surreal, dreamlike beauty. Travelers from distant lands often spoke of Benzo as the most beautiful forest in the known world. But tonight, the wind carried no whispers, and even the leaves seemed afraid to rustle.
Yenzo, last heir of the Mist Family, stepped between the glowing roots with careful, graceful movements. His long, silver-gray cloak fluttered behind him, and the faint blue lines running down his arms pulsed like veins of magic. In this world, every person was born with a unique ability tied to nature—some controlled fire, others molded shadows—but the Mist Family was different. They were blessed with something rare: the ability to bond with mystical flowers.
Each flower carried an ancient power—some healed, others destroyed. And Yenzo… Yenzo could bond with many. He was considered a prodigy in his family. Perhaps even the strongest.
But that meant little now. His entire bloodline had vanished—killed or lost in missions assigned by the ruling Rayn Family, the wealthiest and most politically powerful family in the known kingdoms. Now, Yenzo stood alone. His mission: find the Mystic Flower of Rebirth, rumored to lie hidden within the heart of Benzo Forest.
He paused.
A soft vibration pulsed through his feet—familiar, faint. He knelt, brushing his fingers across the forest floor.
"It's close," he whispered. His eyes flickered a dim green as his sensing ability activated. The flowers responded like old friends.
And then he saw it.
Nestled between two glowing tree roots was a flower unlike any other. Its petals were flawless—translucent, shimmering with gold and violet edges. The center pulsed with a slow, steady light, like the heartbeat of a god. Yenzo stepped closer, heart pounding.
But then he froze.
Something was wrong.
He reached toward the flower, and for the first time in years, his power refused him. The flower emitted no aura. No ability. It was as beautiful as legend said, but completely... empty.
Yenzo narrowed his eyes. "Why does it feel like a grave instead of a gift?"
Then»»»
A sharp sound.
He twisted just in time to avoid the glint of something slicing through the air. A glass-sharp petal, flung like a dagger, grazed his cheek. Blood welled up instantly.
Instinct took over. He leapt back, summoning his escape glyph, but nothing happened. His flower-bound magic… was frozen.
"Wha—"
Steel pierced his back.
The blade ran clean through him—cold and merciless. He coughed, tasting iron, and dropped to his knees. Blood soaked the forest floor.
A shadow stepped out from behind the trees.
"You always knew it would end like this, Yenzo," the figure said, calm, almost amused.
Yenzo turned his head slowly, eyes blurry. "Highborn… bastards."
The attacker knelt, twisting the blade. "Exactly. And you were always too proud to bow. That's what got your family killed. And now you."
Yenzo tried to speak again, but the blood in his throat stopped him.
"You want to know who sent me?" the assassin said, freeing his sword. Yenzo gasped.
But he never heard the answer.
With a final swing, the blade took Yenzo's head.
The forest fell silent again. The attacker stood there, holding the lifeless head in his gloved hand. He sneered.
"You thought you were powerful. But power without control is just noise. Your family thought their flowers made them gods. Look where that got you."
Suddenly—
Yenzo's head began to dissolve into petals. The assassin gasped and looked down. The body was gone too. All that remained were thousands of delicate, fluttering petals, glowing faintly in the moonlight.
He took a step back.
"Even in death, you do things your own way, huh?" he muttered. He turned to look at the flower again—the one with no aura.
"Beautiful. But empty. Just like your ideals. Why would they send you for something like this?"
And with that, he vanished into the trees.
Far from that clearing, across the forest in the place known as Dark Haze, the air grew colder. The trees here were ancient and fearless, their bark covered in black moss. Few dared venture this deep.
But someone lived here.
A decaying wooden house stood crooked near the edge of a forgotten stream. Inside, the floorboards creaked as a man stirred beneath a threadbare blanket. His skin was pale, and a strange S-shaped mark glowed faintly on the side of his neck.
His name was Eloin, and he had been hiding for months.
Outside, the wind changed. Eloin sat up, sensing something.
A glow—faint and pulsing—shone through the cracks of the window.
Curiosity won. He stepped outside barefoot, the cold soil numbing his skin. He walked toward the strange light, each step filled with dread.
And then he saw it.
A massive flower bud, easily taller than a man, stood in the middle of the forest floor. It pulsed with golden light. The petals were moving—slowly opening.
And just as he stepped forward, it bloomed.
His eyes widened.
His lips parted, but no sound came out.
Inside the glowing flower, a figure stood upright, curled like a newborn—pale-skinned, silver-haired, marked with flowing blue lines.
Yenzo.
Alive.
A moment passed.
Then another.
Yenzo's eyes snapped open.
They glowed—brighter, colder, deeper than before. He fell forward from the flower's center, breathing heavily as if surfacing from deep water. His fingers gripped the soil, and as his palms touched the ground, the flowers nearby bloomed violently, reacting to him.
Eloin stood frozen.
Yenzo raised his head. He looked… younger. Maybe seventeen again. But the way he stared—the depth in his eyes—it was as if centuries lived within.
"Where… am I?" he rasped.
"Dark Haze," Eloin whispered. "But… what are you?"
Yenzo looked down at his body. The familiar glowing lines were still there. He clenched his hand and felt the pulse of a hundred flowers deep in his blood. But something was different. Something was added.
The flower that birthed him had not been empty.
It had been… complete.
Yenzo stood, his cloak reforming from thin tendrils of petals and magic. He looked at Eloin, his voice now calm, sharp, and steady.
"You saw nothing," he said.
Eloin nodded slowly. He understood.
Yenzo turned toward. The forest. His eyes were set on something far beyond the trees.
This time, he would not die.
...…★†★...…..