Chapter 1
Subtitle: A sad and beautiful fairy tale about a love that went too far.
Chapter 1
In a breathtaking garden where crimson roses, pale lilies, and magnificent dahlias bloomed in glorious profusion, a grotesque giant tended to the earth. Despite his fearsome stature, he was a most devoted caretaker, labouring tirelessly to till the soil, blend the rich fertiliser, water the roots, and pluck away the stray weeds.
For this was the Giant’s own sanctuary. Every blossom that painted the grounds in vibrant strokes of red, white, and gold had been planted by his very own hands. He was a giant, to be sure, yet he was not as towering as a mountain. Standing some three meters tall, his rugged body was topped by a curiously small head, which bore a deep, jagged scar—a grim memento of a great war fought long ago.
Though coarse and uncomely, the Giant harboured a profound love for the beautiful and the delicate. He would gaze with narrowed, softened eyes upon the elegance of the roses, the pristine grace of the lilies, and the radiant joy of the dahlias. In days gone by, amidst the horrors of a cruel and bitter conflict, his eyes had been forced to behold countless ugly things. For a soul so burdened, nothing brought sweeter solace than nurturing and adoring these beautiful flowers.
Yet, he harboured a deep loathing for the tiny creatures that crept within the fertiliser. They were minuscule, wretched, and repulsive to his sight; try as he might, he could find no affection for them.
From time to time, the Giant would venture far into the unknown, seeking new and wondrous flora to grace his domain. It was during one such journey that he chanced upon a vast, desolate moor. Beneath a pale sky stretched a plain of coarse, yellow earth, where only the most impoverished weeds clung desperately to life. Though it was high summer, the early morning air bit into his skin, making the Giant shudder with a sudden chill.
Then, a fragrance drifted upon the wind—a scent as sweet and enchanting as ripe fruit. The Giant turned his gaze toward the source.
There, standing low against the bleak landscape, was a slender shrub adorned with blossoms of the deepest purple. It possessed none of the showy opulence of the rose or the lily, yet its tiny, indigo crowns swayed with exquisite grace atop elegant green stems. Bathed in the soft, shimmering sunlight, it looked for all the world like a noble lady draped in a gown of royal purple.
In that single, fleeting moment, the Giant’s heart was utterly stolen away.
