The land of Sanitatum is said to be filled with magic, but it is also plagued by a contagious curse that threatens humanity's survival. It is the purpose of the heir to the throne, Simba Adofo, to inherit his father's crown and find a way to vanquis...
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Getting up from the bed, Simba clung onto the journal for future reading. He hadn't glanced at more than nine years documented between it's pages. It may tell him a story he would find useful. But Simba returned to the forest for Hari, not the writings he left behind.
With Darwin following overhead, Simba rummaged through the forest for signs of his whereabouts. Knowing Hari's affiliation with the old kingdom, Kasim's fixation on including the naïve forest boy in his ploy to afflict him was deliberate- it could have been avoided all together if Hari were truly unimportant. Even with Hari's memories eroding, he had to know something to warrant such attention.
But as he walked about, Simba slowly became mesmerized by the warmth of this place. Hari had mentioned in his journal that the forest was dead because of his touch, that he had drained the life out of the very earth he walked on. He said that he had made it 'ugly', but the Prince grew fascinated by the beauty that flowered in every corner.
Ivy and vines joyously writhed at the tree trunks, and lichen bloomed on their branches all the way up to the canopy above. Moss cushioned the ground at every step, glimmering under droplets of dew that decorated each leaf of the forest floor. Simba wondered how Hari couldn't see the splendor of this place. He couldn't help but enjoy how the woods were strung together with idle moments bathed in a soothing silence.
He let his arms be drawn backwards by the foliage around him. He started to feel the sensation of mist on his cheeks as he broke the forest wall of the spring that pooled at the waterfall's mouth. Taking off his boots, he let the smooth rocks under his feet knock together in satisfying clacks as he walked. Shedding his cloak and gloves, he felt the mist refresh his skin with cold tickles.
Darwin landed on Simba's royal headpiece, playfully tugging at his hair's curly locks. Simba's urgency to secure his crown melted away under the welcoming sunlight, and he let the beauty of the forest relax his shoulders.
He was usually so mission oriented and focused. Every day was a taxing push closer to his ascribed purpose, an agonizing trial to uphold the responsibilities of an entire nation. His crown bestowed upon him that burden. However, in these woods, his crown meant absolutely nothing.
Kurona had suggested that a seed grown under the warm sun and in gentle dirt would have bloomed so sweetly. What if he were never born as the son of a King? Would he have lived in a beautiful forest like this? Would this warm sunlight and gentle dirt let him bloom into something more than he was?
He could just disappear here. His father wouldn't look for him, and he would be forgotten. No responsibility. No purpose. No curse. He would be freed from all of this.
He thought that for a few moments, anyway.
Looking up, he saw the familiar rainbow that filled the air when he first met Hari. He remembered the warmth of the boy's back against his own as he began flipping about Hari's journal again, drawn back in by Hari's memory. Though Simba loathed the forest dweller, he was also fascinated by him. Why were they bound together like this? What thread of fate tangled Simba's future to such a tragic boy?
