Rumours have a way of traveling from places where we haven't even been, that we don't even know are real. Deep in the Shamanic Forest next to our small village, it was said there lived a creature who was part elf, part man, part devil. That he travelled from one border to another, teaching the callous ones who defiled nature a lesson they won't forget. It was rumoured he had a sword that could slice through stones, but had had no need to use it. That his eyes were enough.
That he invited the greedy merchants seeking the wares of nature for free for a drink around his camp fire. Upon first look, any man, woman or child was so entranced by his elven beauty they would follow him off a cliff if he led them to. And then so taken by his human smile that as they chatted heartily over some heady rum, he seemed like an old friend, like meeting a brother after a long time.
And then when the rum was over, the fire dimming, and the chatter dying, that's when he revealed his true eyes. The eyes of the devil.
In his eyes, it is rumoured that each one saw a different vision. A vision of their own death. A thousand different deaths. In a thousand places in the forest. And that was the last they ever dared to set foot here or any forest in their lives.
He, it is said, was the soul of the sleeping forest. The knight and protector of the silent nature. He was The Deliverer.