Blackrose_Belle

Chantara is a Moonlighter, now the sixth of her kinds, chosen by the Orb. Though her hatred and dislike for mankind will disrupt her true purpose. Would she be like the rest, gone forever? Or would she heed to her call and save both the High Realm and the race of humanity?

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Hundred years ago, a world of all kinds of malicious atrocities was born out of the greediness of mankind. The hearth of the gods mysteriously vanished from the  temple of the High Realm, with a single soul unable to comprehend the possibility of the mystifying misfortune. Never in history had it been heard that a mortal could visit the High Realm and make it out alive, much less succeeding after an outrageous crime as such.

The Hearth was a concealed weapon, constructed and hidden by the gods to protect the people of the High Realm, as well as all mortals. With that much power stolen, havoc was wrecked upon the universe. The power of the gods slowly began to fade away, and mankind suffered all nefarious miseries. 

As an attempt to restoring balance, the Supreme of the High Realm sent members from the Councils of the Elders to earth, with a mission of recruiting five hero to restore the stolen hearth every new moonlight. Sadly, the councils lost five of it's members after each moonlight. 

With Chantara being the sixth Moonlighter, doom was highly expected by her kinds. But with the destiny of the universe, solely depending on her, Chantara is determined to succeed.

Chantara

Chantara stepped into the woods and saw tons of trees.

Into the jocund day the tree stood as cheerleader to each passing spirit.

The tree in the ever-hug of the atmosphere, crows the hillock and flourishes both wand and foliage.

Tree bark is the brown fingerprint of my soul, for as I touch it I feel a divine connection spark.

The tree leans into the sunny rays as if they were lovers in eternal trance.

Though black heavens and sun-lit days, the tree is sentry to landscape, the stoic guardian of so many souls.

The tree is the grand poem of the living world, a beauty that encourages the spirit to dance though words, to make our odes to it's branches that spread heaven-bound. And in the strong light of the new day it creates a kiss for the senses in those moving leaves, the thousand green hues and the soft whispering in the wind.

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