The sun had set, the moon was rising slowly but......this was no ordinary moon you see. It was not a pale moonlight nor was it the all hallows eve moon, for it was the Blood moon. This time, the moon seemed larger than ever before on that clear night. All the townspeople closed their shutters in hopes the evening would go without the problems they had faced before. The gypsies turned their attention to the moon and began chanting while dancing around the fire they had left to smoulder rather than keeping it roaring in the night. they held hands and sang while one woman played her tambourine in rhythm to the fireflies dancing about. a chill fell across the town as the mist had crept into the fields. Eventually, the singing stopped and just a dull hum could be heard across the rolling hills. Well past midnight the last hum was heard faintly as the trees in the forest leaned toward town they themselves trying to hear the ramblings of the Gypsies. The trees were not your basic tree. Some of the trees had been there longer than the town in fact, some of them had been there longer than the fields themselves. For a select few had been turned into trees by a spell which could only be broken by light magic, for if dark magic were to be used it could affect the entire land from the sea far away to the mountains which were barely visible. But, what had done this deed you ask? And furthermore, what were the trees before they were trees....
-Written by Gwen Gudkov
Official Hidden Sanctuary Storyteller
-Written by Gwen Gudkov
Official Hidden Sanctuary Storyteller