In a time of peace, when life and nature were in harmony, there lived a happy and prosperous mischief of mice, living in their tiny, modest village. Its foundations hidden from the rest of the world; deep were its roots in the forest's most tranquil nooks and crannies. These were not any mice, however, like those from ancient times that simply scurried about, scavenging for scraps; no, these were myce. Intelligent, compassionate creatures, the myce of Oregonia. While small in stature they overcame their shortcomings by sprouting with bravery, courage, and might, despite being dwarfed by all around them; majestic and ferocious creatures alike, colossal in comparison.
The myce from this particular neck of the woods lived in a village appropriately named Cloverfield, due to it being surrounded by a green bay of three leaf clovers and in the center of their village was a tall tree that nearly enveloped their sky producing melon sized acorns now and again. Although the myce, being as small as they were, could live in just about anything from a hollowed-out hill to a musty, old, human boot, many traditionally chose to craft a home from an acorn, however. One of these massive acorns, overgrown and plump, finally fell to the earth after its branches struggled to keep it from gravity's unyielding grasp. Like a meteor, it careened to earth on the outskirts of the village, plowing the ground into a crater on impact.
Near the fallen acorn, inside the shelled walls of one of the unkempt acorn huts, lived a friendly and humble myce by the name of Eli Dawnwood, a young lad who spent little time at home, as anyone who knew him could tell from his frequent outings, day and night. Woken abruptly in the early morn, early even for a myce, Eli emerged from his home, still wearing his small leaf cap and leaf green tunic with a few faded speckles of brash yellow here and there. He ruffled his messy, unmistakably long, pointy ears with tufts of hair billowing outwards, as his sleepy eyes gleamed like emeralds in the dawn's early light, emphasizing his already spring-like charm. He let out one last yawn, stretching his whiskers, masked behind a beard he was quite proud of but never hid his inviting smile.
A troop of myce rushed the freshly grown acorn, grasping it firmly and lifting with their knees and planting their tails down firmly for support. The still groggy Eli adjusted his leaf cap and ran over to help his myce brethren without question. With their combined strength and a little cunning, they carried the acorn, slowly trudging it back into the borders of the village. They flipped the bulbous nut on its top and immediately went to work, carving it into a cozy little home or a soaring tree lift. While some carved the way, others plucked and decorated the acorn with fresh shamrocks top to bottom, hiding their homes to aerial predators. From the sky, their village looked like an overbearing sea of green, hiding a small world of the myce.
After a rough and early morning, the tired Eli said good day to his friends and made his way up to his favorite spot for a well-deserved midday nap. Eli Spent much of his time up the highest branch of the acorn tree, towering over the village, in the perfect spot from which to gaze at the townsfolk below. He often would lose himself in imagination while listening to the sounds and music of the village and watch them live their simple, peaceful lives from high above. The sun shined bright through the trees, dowsing him in rays of faint light that flickered through the branches and leaves. From above the village, the light dazzled across Cloverfield, like a dance of shimmering lights, breaking just under the water's surface.
"What a perfect day," Eli thought as he laid in his perfect spot, soaking in the warm light, breathing in Mother Nature's fresh spring air of early March, still a bit of chill in the air from February. "What's that?" he wondered aloud. Eli noticed something stirring through the busy streets below. Eli had all but forgotten that the village folk were preparing the town for a celebration that only comes once a year when the clovers are their greenest: The Shamrock Festival.
Eli ran as fast as he could along the etched, barren path he had made over the years with his constant scaling of the familiar tree, scurrying down to assist in the preparation of the seasonal festival. Running through the dirt-paved paths on all fours, myce all around with friendly, familiar faces would greet him a good day as he sped through the village. The village of Cloverfield was alive with music, bards singing, children playing, myce conversing, and merriment all around. Myce would share stories of their adventures outside of the village; even some traveling outside of the realm into the once crowded human cities that now lay in waste, devoid of life, but full of wonder and mystery. The shop keeps, local and foreign, cried out in excitement as myce walked by, selling trinkets from the forest and peculiar scraps of food, ranging from exquisite to questionable. They even sold relics from the old human world, relics consisting of robes fashioned from human clothes, gemstones from forgotten human jewelry, and many strange electronic devices that had long lost their power. To the villagers, many of these quirks were why Cloverfield was the best place in all of Oregonia.
Scurrying about the village, Eli was approaching his mother's acorn house as she was gathering dew, dripping from a leaf. "You're late, son," Eli's mother, Daisy, exclaimed in her most motherly of tones, which also sounded suspiciously condescending.
"I know, mom," Eli replied, chuckling under his breath as she pointed out the obvious.
"Wait," said Daisy, stepping in front of Eli, holding a cloth bag. Eli stopped, dragging his feet and tail in the dirt.
"Yesss?" Eli dragged.
"Hey, watch the sass," his mother warned. "I gathered food for your father and his friends, would you give it to them, please?" she asked, handing him the bag.
"No problem, mom," he grabbed the bag, grinning, and hugging his mother.
She patted him on the face, gently and warmly. "Thank you, son, go on then and have a good time."
"I'll try," he joked and was off. On his way through the village, kicking up dirt with each stride, Eli noticed something was following him. Masked miscreants drew closer, running on rooftops, around the corners of alleyways, and bursting from the cover of the shamrocks. "Not again," stressed Eli, as he ran towards the village's training ground for the local guardsmen. Within the training grounds, children would play with wooden swords and shields, all while in costume, tasked with preparing for the annual Dance of the Beast that was to be held during the festival.
The children looked over and saw Eli scurry past, running from the masked nuisance. They all ran after him, "Eli, hey Eli," they cried out, excited to see their friend and mentor of sorts.
The feisty little myce all jumped on Eli. All that could be seen of him was one paw and his tail in a mosh pit of furry, anxious children. As Eli stood up, he was immediately knocked to the ground by the group that had chased him thus far. The little myce all rose up, their restless ears twitching eagerly to see Eli. One group of myce, dressed in handmade garments, wore clovers and old worn-out guard uniforms, fashioned to look like the armor of the Clover Shields. The other mischief wore masks that portrayed the wicked creatures of old, myce-sized and even larger monsters that lurked the world during the dark age. The masks were made of pieces of bark, torn from the base of the tree in the center of the village, slathered with mud, and draped with hanging moss. The eye holes were carved out with their claws, giving the masks that final touch of wild savagery to strike fear to onlookers.
"Come on guys, I'm late," said Eli, brushing himself off.
The children dropped their heads in disappointment. "But you said you would help us practice for the dance tomorrow, you promised," said one of the children.
"Yeah, you said you'd teach us the basics!" another child claimed.
"Guys, I make lots of promises and helping with the festival comes first. I can practice with you after, okay?" Eli crossed his arms and looked around at their eager faces as they nodded in disappointing agreement.
One brave little myce, the oldest of the group , emerged from the crowd of children and proclaimed in a cocky tone and with a confident smirk to match, "If you want to pass, I demand you challenge me first." He raised his pointy little wooden pick of a sword at Eli.
Eli sighed, smacked the sword from his face, and with a smile, he looked over at a little girl, "hand me your practice blade for a moment." She smiled and threw the wooden sword over to Eli.
The little novice ran at Eli with short notice, swiping his sword in every direction, trying desperately to whack Eli as he blocked and dodged every erratic stroke. Eli used his tail and snagged the Martin's foot, dropping him on his backside, causing him to drop his blade. Eli stood above, pointing his sword down at him. Eli picked up the little one's sword with his tail and handed it over. Martin, frustrated by his quick defeat, took the blade and lowered his head in anguish.
"I'll be back to play with you guys, I'm just a little busy at the moment, kay?" said Eli and threw the little girl her sword. As Eli was about to leave, he noticed a Clover Shield named Tristan, a shy, but close friend, leaving the Clover Shield Bastion. "HEY TRISTAN!" cried Eli.
"Yeah?" asked Tristan.
"Come here." Tristan walked over to Eli and the mischief of young myce.
"How's it goin, Eli, running late again... shouldn't you be somewhere?" Tristan wondered.
"You're right, Tristan, thanks for being so understanding. Okay, guys, you know Tristan," Eli introduced, "he's like a little brother to me, and I taught him everything I know. He'd be perfect to help you guys prepare for the dance."
"Wait, that's not what I..." but before he could finish, the children nodded, and Eli was off to help with the festival and Tristan was left to play with the eager children. Everything Eli said about Tristan was true, but Tristan knew that Eli had a slightly mischievous side and liked to pick on him given the opportunity.
n into the Village Square to see a few dozen myce decorating for the upcoming event. Large archways made of branches and twigs, decorated with three leaf clovers, topped with little, hanging acorns, stood at all the entrances to the square.
"Eli, you're late, son," Eli's father Poesy yelled, struggling to help the others raise the banners.
"No, no, you're just in time," proclaimed Clover, the village Chieftain, "grab that rope and help us with these banners."
Eli ran over and grabbed the rope and hoisted the flag with the village insignia, a tree in the shape of a three-leaf clover. The Village Square was surrounded by banners, in the center was a garden of small three-leaf clovers, and one, suspiciously lucky four-leaf clover. The chief looked around, satisfied with the results, his smile gleaming through his graying beard and his flaccid whiskers, twitching under his chuckles of satisfaction.
"It's nearly ready fellas, we just need to finish up the outskirts of the village for our guests from Treedom and Bayleaf," proclaimed the Chief, "and then we will start the celebration in the morning upon their arrival."
Just as they were walking toward the Village Gate and the outskirts, Poesy stopped his son. "Son, were you daydreaming again?" asked Eli's father.
"Yeah, I just wanted to relax before work and...well...I guess I just got too cozy. I'm sorry," Eli looked away, scratching his head.
Posey smiled, "It's okay, you're here now, and you can make it up to us by working twice as hard, all right?" Posey wrapped his arm around his son, "Let's get going, son."
The myce went to the outskirts of the village, Posey and Eli hustling to their side to hang more banners and decorate with clovers and acorns and pave the way with shiny trinkets that would entice the Sages of Treedom and Bayleaf and their followers. As Eli was working high on top of the archway, he noticed something from the corner of his eye, a shimmer of light, like a star twinkling in the night sky, except it was coming from deep within the shady forest.
"Someone, please," a woman cried as she made her way to the outskirts of the village.
down and approached the woman along with the others.
"Has anyone seen my son, Martin?" she asked, "I haven't seen him and the kids said he went this direction."
"Martin?" Eli wondered, looking around all around as she pleaded with the rest. Eli, with his keen tracking skills, noticed something at the base of the brush. Dirt kicked back, as though someone was foring their way through. Just as the crowd was starting to worry, Eli spoke out, "He went this way, I'll track him down."
"Wait, Eli," his father ached with concern.
Martins' mother interrupted, "Thank you, Eli, thank you." Eli reassured his father with a stern nod as his father reluctantly accepted.
Eli walked into the brush, away from the other villagers who searched close by. He strolled through the tall grass, deeper into the woods, staring up at the trees that towered over him, nearly scathing the heavens. A small wind brushed against the meadow, flowing like ocean waves, bringing a cool, clean, silent air that grazed Eli's abnormally tall ears that stood above the plain of grass.
Eli emerged from the brush and came across a small river. he hopped from one smooth rock to the next, its touch icy cold, chilling his little feet with each step while avoiding the gentle steam as he crossed over to the other side. Once he had made it to the other side, he climbed over a series of fallen trees that once stood tall and mighty but were now decaying slowly in the musky air. He went deeper and deeper into the forest, the sense of adventure captivating his imagination, and stimulating his every nerve, until, finally, he came across a large grave plot, hiding behind an eerie and unatural fog. There was something pointy and white sticking out of the ground. Whatever it was, its shimmer of light called out to Eli across the dark Elder Woods. There, at the end of the plot was a stone that read,
"Here lies Alistar, the Benevolent.
Warrior, Protector, and a Friend like no other.
R.I.P."
~Aria Dawnwood
It was a tombstone, a grave for someone once dear to the village of Cloverfield, from a very long time ago. Eli realized that what he was looking at were the remains of a creature, exposed by wind and rain. "Aria? Alistar? Like from all the stories?" he thought to himself aloud. Slowly, Eli reached out to touch the point that craved his attention so, shining across the forest just for wondering eyes.
"Eli!" a voice called out, hiding in the brush.
Eli turned towards the voice, accidentally pricking his finger on the sharp point that at last glance looked like a fang, before running off to Martin's side.
Placing his paws on Martin's shoulders, Eli said, "Hey bud. You had us worried."
"I'm sorry, Eli," Martin apologized, "I just wanted to show the others I was strong."
Eli sighed, "It's my fault. I shouldn't have put you down in front of your friends like I did."
"No," Martin assured him, "I know it's against the rules."
"You know better," Eli simplified, "and so do I. With a pat on the Eli said, "That's why we're going to head back. Come on, bud."
Before entering the brush, Eli gazed back over his shoulder for a split second, catching a glimpse of a pair of beastly blue eyes, like smooth, shimmering sapphires, glaring at him like a predator in the night. Eli was startled and did a double take of the grave site. "I swear I saw..." he thought aloud before escorting Martin back. "Huh, weird."
They
"Martin!" his mother cried, picking him up and squeezing him tightly. With one arm she held her son and in the other she wrapped around Eli and praised him, "Thank you so much for finding my boy."
"Don't mention it," he smiled through the grimace caused by her tight grip. She and Martin walked away, lecturing him all the way back to the village.
"Eli!" Posey yelled, "what were you doing, you had me worried."
"I'm fine, Dad," Eli replied, "."
Posey quickly composed himself and rested his paw on his son's shoulder. "Son," he said, "you need to be more careful, dangerous things lurk in the forests, and they all hunt myce. I don't think I have to remind you?"
"Why do you think I did it?" Eli asked, watching as Martin and his relived mother walked out of sight.
"You did a good thing, son, I'm sorry," he replied calmly, "I just get worked up a bit, you know?"
"I know," Eli reassured him, smiling quaintly, feeling his father's grief.
They headed back to the village, to rest for tomorrow's Shamrock Festival. Just a little bit of light reached out over the trees as the sun slowly fell to sleep and the crescent moon rose from behind the hills to shimmer its calm lunar light and fill their dreams with merriment and joy. Eli returned to the others and followed them home, finally done for the day. They said their goodbyes and headed off to their homes. Eli ran off to his favorite spot high in the tree, while the rest of the village wished him a good night's sleep. He ran all the way to the top and just laid there, tired, but satisfied, at peace.
Every night, Eli would watch the stars fly across the sky and smile at the moon, and to him, the moon gently smiled back. Like the warm sunlight he bathed in during the day, the cold moonlight gleamed over him to wash his worries away. Just as Eli was about to fall asleep, he was startled awake by the sound of steps and a faint spark of flickering light. An old myce with a tall, pointy, red leaf cap emerged from the shadows with a lantern in paw and staff in the other. His brows nearly sagged past his eyes, the staff he carried encased with a stone that had just a tad bit of mygic, and he wore old, tattered fur robes. Eli quickly realized the old myce was the village elder, Shamus, the Four-Leaf Sage of Cloverfield.
Shamus always kept an eye out on Eli, ever since he was just a little myce. The Sage was the wisest myce in the village, even the wisest among all the Sages in the realm of Oregonia. To Eli, and most of the village, he was a mentor, a friend, someone to look up to, someone to turn to for guidance. Shamus could see something in Eli, something that no one else could see, not even his father. It was as if Shamus had a special intuition about those sorts of things. Shamus spent much of Eli's childhood sharing fantastical stories of the past and the origins of their kind. Those stories filled Eli's imagination, dreams, and his heart with adventure and a love for nature itself. Eli and Shamus's bond was stronger than the tree they stood on and deeper than its roots that surged through the village.
Eli, relieved to see his friend, laid his weary head back down, paws crossed back behind his ears for support
"Eli, my boy, you enjoying the view? It's quite beautiful this night," said Shamus as he slowly approached Eli, his tail dragging behind him.
Eli looked over for a moment and back at the vast night sky. "I've never seen a sky so clear, and so far away." Eli let out a sigh, wishing for something that he knew was beyond his reach: adventure. Eli often reminded Shamus of another young myce who desired adventure and the freedom to travel and the dangers it entailed.
"Busy day?" he asked, his smile trembling under his old cheeks.
Letting out another sigh, he replied, "You could say that."
"So peaceful, yet troubled," the wise old Sage hypothesized. "What ails you, my boy?"
"It's nothing, Shamus," said Eli and nothing else.
Shamus knew Eli was conflicted and looked up to the sky, to try and see it as Eli did. He gazed into the moon and thought of something, snapping his brittle fingers in revelation. Shamus slowly shuddered over and took a seat next to Eli and tapped his staff on the ground twice, causing the light from the lantern to glow brighter. "You know, Eli," he said, staring at the moon with Eli, "once upon a time, myce could harness the power of mygic, like the mygic in my staff, what little there is that is. Those who harnessed this power fancied themselves wizards, a name inspired by the human fantasies of old. The wizards are gone now, due to the humans' reckless poisoning of the world we once shared."
"But the legends say that one of the last remaining wizards in the realm left this world, entering another realm, a dream-like place where fantasies come to life. When he emerged from the dream realm, he found himself on the moon where he decided to live among the stars with the Moon Spirit, Soother of Dreams. From her teachings, he learned to harness the power of the moon and spread dreams of peace and delight across the myce world, much like the Spirit herself did for humans."
"I haven't heard that story in a long time," Eli reminisced, staring at the moon.
"Yes, yes," Shamus nodded, "but did you know there is more to the Lunar Fable. As the darkest side of the moon envelopes our sky, it reveals, some say, the dark side of our dreams. This weakens the influence of the wizard's light, preventing his gentle rain of peace, allowing... something to emerge from the darkest depths of our dreams: our nightmares."
Eli sat up confused and concerned, "Why are you telling me this?"
Shamus reached out his paw and set it on Eli's shoulder, giving him a feeble pat. "The Lunar Fable is not to be taken lightly," he stressed, "it represents the cycles of peace and conflict, light and dark, good... and evil. Peace does not last forever, it comes and goes like the light and dark sides of the moon, and we need to savor that light and the peace while it lasts. Do you understand, my boy?"
Eli looked down and then back up, unsure of himself and the words of wisdom that Shamus spoke, words that almost seemed like an unintended warning of something dastardly to come. Shamus smiled, "Coming up here to daydream might be nice and all, but eventually you have to wake up, come down, and spend each moment you have wisely. In other words, my boy, don't sleep the light away, or you will wake up in the darkness. Join us in the here and now." Eli nodded and smiled. "Now I hope to see you bright and early in the morning, no sleeping in, and Eli...," Shamus hesitated, "enjoy the festival."
Just as the Sage was about to walk from sight, Eli said, "In the myth, you said it was like a cycle? So, the light will return in time. Just as peace can't always last, neither can the dark... right?"
Shamus chuckled and smiled warmly, "Clever boy and wise too. Have a good night's sleep, Eli." Eli smiled and lied down, sleeping under the stars as his daydreams fell into the precipice of a good night's sleep, and Lady Luna whispered sweet nothings into his soft, cuddly ears. Eli's dreamscape was full of fun and adventure. He could fly with ease, up into the clear blue sky, past the atmosphere, touch the stars, and beyond.
The cosmos was an infinite gyre of twinkling light, each star with its own tale to tell, each with a new adventure to seek. Eli's dream was ethereal, gleaming with everlasting light, and carefree as could be. Eli slowly drifted among the nebulas of scattered rainbow stars and landed softly on a white powdery surface. The cosmos faded away, leaving nothing but black skies and a desolate, white plane. Eli looked around at the vast nothingness of white, the colorless craters, and the gray rocks, untouched by life. Eli looked directly above his head at the mass floating in space. It was Earth, far away, out of reach. A fair and delicate, but worrisome voice called out in the blackness. "Eli...Eliii..." she said faintly. A pair of lavender hands lifted Eli towards the earth. He looked down at what appeared to be the moon, which grew ever more distant with each passing second.
Eli floated above the earth, looking down at a mountain with a crater in the center, full of water, and one small island near the edge. On it stood a towering, otherworldly tree, shaped like a hand reaching out for dear life. Surrounding the mountain in droves were creatures of various colors and creeds, young and old. They were of colossal in size compared to the myce, wrapped in tattered clothes, looking up at the mountain as if it were the last thing they were ever going to see. Eli had only seen them in books and pictures, but their appearance was uncanny. Without a doubt, Eli looked upon the humans in awe.
Out of nowhere, a light shot up into the sky like a beacon, signaling the end. The light quickly turned into black volcanic ash, covering the sky in death's black gaze. The earth shook and quaked, and the mountain exploded in a fury of fire, scattering across Oregonia. Balls of ash fell from the earth-annihilating clouds like hail from a storm. The smoldering ash scattered, revealing Eli's friends and family and all the myce of the realm, falling out of the sky towards the blazing doom. Eli watched in horror, unable to do anything as the world burned.
The flames nearly settled as the rain finally fell from above to settle the devastation and a human woman of god-like proportions and skin as green as the forests that enveloped the world, rose from the wet ash like a tree, sprouting anew: a sign of new beginnings. Eli presumed that such a creature could only be Mother Nature, the Spirit of Life, who had enchanted Eli's dream with her grace and beauty. The unbelievably gorgeous, gracefully divine Spirit came face to face with Eli. Her face and body were illuminated in the embers of the fading fire. She reached out, cradled Eli in her colossal, yet soft and gentle hands, like a mother holding her child, and whispered gently into his tall, bushy ears, "Eli Dawnwood, you must save them, you must save them all..."