Secluded within an ancient lilac forest lives the Lost Princess, the last living Licorne. They say she lives within an enchanted castle, overgrown with the roses that have existed since the birth of her race. The solitary girl never leaves the forest, lingering on the edge and hovering in between the rose vines like a ghost. None can cross the barrier, and many wonder if she, too, is unable to, if the lovely roses cage her as well as they protect. Some believe the Princess is but an illusion, for many would not believe they were 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, modest nature and wistful gaze bring into question that assumption. There is a sadness locked behind her crystalline gaze, 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  keeping her company in her lovely cage.The Princess is their tender guardian, mending the injured and bringing comfort to the old. Only her hooves echo the great halls, though the chateau itself aids her, tending to her needs as well as its own. Miorjah remembers only glimpses of her past, reliving the stories of Licornes who once dwelled within the chateau halls. Her parents sing her to sleep. She plays in the ancient gardens. Nursemaids weave roses and wildflowers in her long hair. Balls that bring to life the halls of the ancient chateau. Words of those who swore to protect her.

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