Blumen Forest was one of those places most people avoided. It sat quietly at the northwestern edge of Heincraft, just beyond the town’s familiar limits. The thing about Blumen was that it wasn’t just any forest. It was like a natural wall, a five-mile stretch of untamed wilderness, sitting like a barrier between Skywalk and whatever lay hidden beyond it. To some, it was a place that beckoned with mystery, but to most, it was a place best not to venture into its depths.

The academy students didn’t see Blumen the way the townspeople did. For them, it was an escape, a break from the endless lectures, assignments, and the pressure of living up to the school’s expectations. When they were here, hidden among the underbrush and trees, it was like the world outside couldn’t touch them. The silence of the forest offered them something they couldn’t get in the academy. No teachers. No expectations. Just a chance to breathe and be themselves.

They didn’t just come here to study, either. Sure, some found the peace to do homework or discuss new theories and ideas in the shade of the trees, but there was more to it. A lot more. The forest, with its secluded spots and its quiet, secretive atmosphere, gave them the space to get away from all the rules they had to follow. Sometimes, it was the perfect place to share a private word with someone, to let a secret slip out that couldn’t be told anywhere else. And sometimes it was just the perfect spot to snip a kiss or two without anyone noticing.

Blumen wasn’t just a patch of woods. It was alive. The trees, old and tall, created a canopy so thick that even the brightest of suns barely made it through. The air felt heavier here, cooler, as though the forest had its own way of keeping time. The ground below was littered with all manner of plants and flora, growing close together in a wild yet beautifully balanced arrangement. Every step on the forest floor stirred up fallen leaves, sending them skittering through the air. The flowers, in wild gurgles of color, dyed the earth in a way that was as fleeting as it was beautiful. It wasn’t perfect. Far from it. There was a naivety here, a messiness that somehow made the forest feel real. And the smell? It clung to everything. A heady combination of blooms, earth, and something almost sweet, as though the forest itself were calling out to anyone who’d stop long enough to listen.

The forest wasn’t silent, either. A constant hum filled the air as insects flitted from flower to flower, their wings a distortion. They were drawn to the sweet scent of nectar, their tiny movements an ever-present sign of the busy world they inhabited. But these insects weren’t the only creatures in Blumen. Their presence, plus the flowers and plants, enticed the gentle, land-based mythical beasts. These were smaller, more unassuming. Some were no bigger than a cat, others the size of a deer, but none of them were threatening. They lived quietly, as much a part of the forest as the trees themselves. The beasts weren’t interested in human interaction, and so long as no one provoked them, they posed little danger. They were content to coexist peacefully, immersed in the cycles of the forest’s life.

On this particular day, as the sun reached its highest point, a small male creature sought food within a cluster of blossoming bushes. At first glance, he might have looked like a stuffed animal, too cute for anyone to take seriously. The creature’s most striking feature was his bushy tail, with a black ring near its tip. This tail swayed to the beat, as if it were dancing. His crimson fur was fluffy, and his large, almond-shaped eyes, glowing a shade of blue, gave him a pure, unguarded look that could melt even the coldest heart. He had two pointed ears, red on the outside and soft pink within. These ears twitched attentively, picking up the faintest of sounds. His nose was tiny, almost subtle, and his mouth, full of minuscule teeth, seemed to conceal a story, as though it could say something more than just what it appeared.

Despite his diminutive size, this creature was anything but helpless. His body lacked the bulky muscles of larger mythical beasts, but his paws, each with five fingers tipped with tiny claws when extended, gave him the tools he needed to defend himself if the need arose. His movements were natural, his balance perfect. He had four limbs, and when he moved, it was almost like he was gliding, as if he understood something about motion that others didn’t. He wasn’t the fastest creature on the ground, but he could fly. No wings, no flapping, just the ability to float in midair, his paws brushing lightly against the earth as if gravity were something he’d learned to ignore. When he wasn’t hovering, he could stand upright like a cat or move down on all fours. There was something unnatural about the way he carried himself, as though the very act of moving was an art form.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that made him stand out. What truly made this creature remarkable was his voice. While all creatures communicated in animal languages, such as growls, roars, or whimpers, this one spoke with a human voice. It was clear, inimitable, and entirely natural. There was no hesitation, no awkwardness in his speech. He didn’t grunt or chirp in some beastly attempt to be understood. He spoke like someone who had always known how to communicate with people. The voice was soft, but there was a strange appeal to it, something that made you want to listen, to pay attention to every word. The way he spoke made it seem like this was just another normal day for him, as though the fact that he could speak was nothing worth commenting on. It was a simple fact of existence, and that was it.

What made his existence even more intriguing was the mystery surrounding his memory. For reasons unknown, this creature could only recall the past decade of his life. Anything before that was a complete blank. It wasn’t clear whether he knew why or if he even cared, but it was as if the earlier years of his existence had been wiped clean. It was an odd gap, one that would’ve driven most creatures mad with questions.

But not him. Not entirely, anyway. Sometimes this creature, the Red Beast, wanted to untangle the mystery of his origins. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, there was something that wouldn’t let him rest. An urge to uncover his past, to fit the pieces of a long-forgotten story back together. He sounded human enough when he spoke, but deep down, there was an inexplicable feeling pulling at him. The world around him seemed both oddly familiar and entirely new, which didn’t exactly make his search for answers any easier.

Now, let’s go back a decade ago when this peculiar episode began.

The Red Beast woke up and found himself sprawled out in a forest clearing, a mess of confusion in his mind. Panic hit him hard. He couldn’t remember his name, his past, or how on earth he had ended up here. Desperate to make sense of it all, he wandered through the woods, trying to talk to the other creatures living there. But no luck. They didn’t understand him. They didn’t care about his troubles either. And so he kept wandering.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Eventually, the Red Beast decided to broaden his search for answers and stood on the outskirts of Blumen, near the human settlement. And that’s when things got really interesting. He discovered he could turn invisible. That’s right, one minute, he was there, the next, he was gone, unseen by humans and mythical beasts alike. This new ability opened up all sorts of possibilities. So, he started sneaking around the town, silently observing the humans in their daily lives. He watched them, learning how they moved, how they spoke, how they lived, and piecing together the puzzle of their world.

At times, he thought about revealing himself to them, to one or two of the humans, maybe even forging some kind of connection. But there was always something that held him back. Seeing the way humans treated the smaller mythical beasts, using them like pets, leashed and obedient, made his fur stand on end. Fear would gush through him, and he’d retreat, not ready to face whatever might happen if he showed himself.

Months passed. The more he watched, the more fascinated he became with the humans, but something else started to catch his eye. The academy. It sat near the town, and it seemed like the perfect place for him to explore. There were mythical beasts roaming freely in its vast grounds, and the flowerbeds made his stomach growl just thinking about them. But it wasn’t just the blossoms that drew him. It was a creature he saw there. The same species as him but with the color of blue.

Now, the Red Beast had a real itch to get closer, to figure out what this creature’s deal was. But here’s the problem. The Blue Beast was huge, and the Red Beast wasn’t sure if it would be friendly or not. So, he stayed back, watching, studying. Day after day, he observed the Blue Beast soaring out from the highest window of a massive building, its coat gleaming like the sky. The Blue Beast would often indulge in the succulent blossoms of nearby flowerbeds before seeking rest among the sturdy boughs, finding a break from the sun.

During these watchful observations, a curious detail seized the Red Beast’s attention. The curious obliviousness among the humans to the Blue Beast’s presence, despite its clear visibility to his discerning eyes. He realized that the cloak of invisibility held no sway over his own kind. Moreover, he pondered the significance of the Blue Beast’s frequent appearances at the building’s highest windows, which led him to wonder. Could this structure really be the Blue Beast’s home? Was that where it lived? So, he continued to watch, his mind teeming with questions he couldn’t yet answer.