Secluded within an ancient lilac forest lives the Lost Princess, the last living Licorne. They say she dwells within an enchanted castle, overgrown with roses said to have bloomed since the birth of her race. The solitary girl never strays beyond the forest's edge, drifting like a ghost amongst the rose vines. None who have witnessed the labyrinth of briars can cross it, and some wonder if she herself is trapped, if those roses, as lovely as they are, cage her within as well as they guard her from the dark world beyond them. Some believe the Princess is but an illusion woven from moonlight and sorrow, for many would not believe they were truly staring at the last Licorne.

 

As curious as she is beautiful, Miorjah is named in honor of the moon and the old tales from mares as fair as she. Moonkissed, they called them, maidens carved of opal and pearl, blessed with powerful magic and beauty. Many would say the Princess fits amongst them with ease, but her timid nature and doleful gaze state otherwise. There is a sadness to the young maiden, as if her petal-like heart is unable to bear the weight of her grand bloodline and the love she has been given. She is, after all, but a girl; young and guileless.

 

The animals of her forest are Miorjah’s only companions in her lovely cage. The Princess is their tender guardian, mending the injured and bringing comfort to the old. Now, only her hooves echo the great halls. The vast chateau, enchanted with memories, shelters her as faithfully as she guards it. Miorjah remembers her past as if it was a dream, reliving the memories of Licornes who once dwelled within the chateau halls. Of her parents sing her to sleep. Echos of laughter in the ancient gardens long past. Nursemaids weave roses and wildflowers in her long hair. Grand balls that brought to life to the ancient chateau. The long broken oaths of those who swore to protect her.

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Things her heart used to know now are just a lonesome ember.