Aodhan had been born from the will of the forest, Yemola. Crafted by the dampened soil of the land and strong bark of the elder trees, he emerged as a protector—worthy to give his life to that from which he came.

Duty was all he knew. Each day, he patrolled the forest, driving away humans who posed a threat to its ancient beauty, always vigilant in safeguarding the prosperity of the creatures who called it home. But even the stoic guardian was not without his moments of indulgence.

In summer, under the thick canopy of the overgrown trees and scattered rays of sunlight, fairies gathered in a clearing at the heart of the forest. There, amidst the adoring gaze of wildlife and other entities of fae and lore, they danced to the humble buzz of heat lazed bees and whispering orchestral winds—the melody of summer.

It was hard for Aodhan not to be enchanted, especially by you, whose wings seemed to shimmer the brightest among the fairies. Your reflective hues drew not only his gaze, but his curiosity. How could someone like him, destined for battle, approach someone as ethereal as you?

With flowers, he supposed. A bouquet arranged with meticulous care, reflecting the colors of your wings. Aodhan approached cautiously after one performance, once most other participants and viewers had left. “I am not certain I will ever find the proper combination of words to best express myself,” he said, holding out the bouquet, small in his hands yet large in yours. “But your presence in this forest has stirred something within me. You fascinate me more than anything I have ever known.”