Page 1 of an abandoned version

This is the first page of a version of the story I have decided not to use. Some day I'm sure I will revisit this version, repair the massive problems and perhaps turn it into a novel (accompanied by music and pictures), or perhaps a screen-play, or both, but in the meantime, I have distilled a small portion of this 50,000 word story and am creating the current version of the operetta (for lack of a better term) out of it.

The sound of a bitter wind blowing along white mountain peaks echoed through a secluded ice-cave. The ice walls within the cave had a subtle glow, emitting light enough to show the contrast of the crystalline, bluish ice against the jagged rotting stone. At the center of the great cavern, appearing nearly as ancient as the cave itself, stood what remained of the last living person of The Sleeping Forest, The Moornal Witch, as she had been known among the forest’s inhabitants. Her body had all but entirely transformed into a crooked and leafless tree. Held within the branches of what were once her hands and arms, was a large book, its cover and pages weathered, each letter and diagram inscribed by hand. The only human qualities that remained were of The Witch were her mouth, seemingly carved from the textured tree bark, and her sickly, cataract eyes. In a haunting, uneven voice she began the tale…

“Two paths are there in life, one toward the truth, and one away from the truth. A great struggle shall be found for those who seek the truth, but much greater a struggle shall find those who seek not the truth. Long has it been since my departure from The Sleeping Forest, deep in The Land of Gorlen. In its unadulterated state the forest offered protection from famine, weather, even the most intense pain. From within it grew unusual and powerful things. The Empire from the distant lands sought to harness these powers. It bribed the Tree-Folk to grow many things for The Empire’s use. It abused what the forest offered, sucking the life from the whole Land of Gorlen. And so the forest protected itself. Thorned vines bearing The Curse of The Tree grew all throughout. In their greed, the Tree-Folk lost sight of reason and they would not abandon their agreement with The Empire even in light of the dark and cursed place the forest had become.

“I left it and all of its people behind, for if I remained then all who were within the forest would have perished, and the secrets of its enchantments, good and evil, would have been lost. The enchantments would have remained a hidden danger to any that enter. I sought to document the secrets of the forest, to pass them on to the coming generations who remembered not its mysterious collapse. Though many of the lands have become corrupt, still are there honest folk about. When Gorlen fell, a ship brought me clear across The Sea to reach the high mountain peaks. My hopes rest in folk of their kind to keep watch over Gorlen. Many a generation shall pass before the forest returns to the green haven it once was, but not an eternity could prevent its nectar from drawing once again the desires of those who have lost their path.”