It was too difficult.
No. It was too easy.
Shapes are such a simple concept. Aren't they?
...No no no. That’s not right.
Shapes are impossible.
...Right?
Clicking echoed importantly, bouncing tree to tree, through hazy darkness. Birds dare not break the unspoken promise of silence. No being in the world did.
But one.
Unusual, some may say. Unlikely, say others. But be it or not, it was truth.
To the top of one such great oak lay the location of a residence. Many question the lodger’s motives, yet none collect courage enough to face him. Many fear him, each to their own ‘reasonable’ cause. Be it terror of jinx, or curse, or misplaced spell, or devouring wood.
But relentlessly, he is there.
Clicking ceased. Silence reigned once more upon the Whispering Forest, broken only by a great creak, caught by fog.
The night itself was divine. The Princess had certainly spared no expense. It was the Winter Solstice, after all. Points of diamond stuck in blackness shivered in their chilled reaches, but casting beauty in every direction all the while. Not a creature on this good Earth would deny their magnificence. Silence was broken once more as a cold wind passed through nature’s pillars, waking sleeping leaves, and tossing them about.
Treetops pass. A home, suspended by luck, lay. Logs formed structure, and planks formed walls. Leaves of great stature prided themselves on being the roof of such a building. Small in size, large in meaning. Today. A home such as this, hidden as it may be, could not go unnoticed. For nature held beauty beyond imagination. Beyond time. Beyond this world itself. Many marvel at the man-made. Gasping at gadgets. Applauding appliances. As such, nature has lost many admirers.
Try as they might, none shall defeat the created. Nature rises above all.
...Right?
Windows pass. A single, lone character rushes between book and flask, eyes mad with movement. Hooves at delicate work with orange and green concoction, head swinging side to side frantically. Not a single essence in such a trade so much as attempted to remain stable. Not one thing.
But failure? Unforgivable.
A sprinkling of crushed petals, stained yellow, manipulated green liquid to blue. Hoof tilted one flask over another. Red resulted. It spread like blood through orange, unrestricted.
Finally. It was complete.
...But was it truly ready? ...No. The world would never be ready.
“...I’ll make them ready then.”
Red coated the floor in moments. Liquid seeped through cracks, dripping slowly, passing leaf by leaf, to the stopping ground.
Contact was made, and the Earth trembled. A great voice boomed it’s deep toll. A toll that would bring about the greatest unknown fear in all the expanses of space, past the limits of the universe.
A word.
A single word. Seemingly so harmless. So overlooked.
But known. And now? Feared.
And the word rang from the sky itself. It rang to the core of the planet. It rang to the ears of all. Rocks trembled. Trees, towering, shivered to their roots. The living stirred in fear, lost in their dreams.
And that word was etched in stone from that day onward. May it never be forgotten.
“Point.”