Mistic Pets

Welcome to Issue 55
Created by The Mistic Pets Team

Character Spotlight: General Flintleaf
Written By gemajgall

Like all wood wraiths, General Flintleaf was originally nothing more than an evergreen, growing strongly despite the cold alpine winds of the Blizzard Realm. When the sky lit up with fire and a star plummeted from the heavens, not a single tree in the forest was aware. The force of the crash whipped through their boughs and bent their trunks. Yet they remained immobile.

Slowly, darkness leaked from the star's crater. Pride, bitterness, and unbearable cold spread through the soil. Bit by bit, the forest's trees drew it in through their roots. Then the changes began. Branches shifted, eyes opened between slats of bark, twigs grasped like fingers—and one by one, the evergreens began to move, lifting up their roots.

As they took steps forward, they looked around, seeing the snowy landscape for the first time. Instinctive desires rose—a need for cold and snow and darkness. They began to thrive in the lowly lit winter months. Icy storms followed in their wake. But fortunately for Mistican civilizations, they did not travel far. The gloom of Boreal's newly founded castle and its surrounding lands were perfect for them.

Of all the wood wraiths, one was older with branches that stretched above the rest. He became the leader and took the name of General Flintleaf. Those first years weren't easy as he guided his forest. Misticpets could sense their cursed nature and met them with aggression. Flintleaf held nothing back in these confrontations. That's why it didn't take long for pets and legendaries both far and wide to learn to fear the sentient trees.

The forest wandered restlessly even though they never went far from Boreal's lands. Something inside of them made the wood wraiths constantly feel ill at ease. That thing was off. It was wrong, unnatural. They were unnatural. Yet they yearned for completeness, for a place to set root. However, after a few nights, they always wandered, seeking refuge and peace. It never came, all their sleeps were uneasy—and wood wraiths never sleep much to begin with.

General Flintleaf himself never slept deeply at all. He stayed watch all night every single night, constantly alert, to protect his forest should any threat rise against them. It was one such night while he watched the stars sparkle in the darkness that he heard someone calling him from a distance. It was an odd feeling, but as Flintleaf looked around, it was clear that no one could have possibly been talking to him. Nonetheless, every moonless night, Flintleaf heard that same alluring call, urging him to come.

Flintleaf resisted for many years. Being born of pride and taint, he did not want give in to anyone else—especially one that seemed little more than a figment of his imagination. Instead, he focused on the forest, ultimately searching for a way to end their restless wandering. Yet all the wood wraiths ever encountered was isolation. Any village they neared froze over; any Misticpal who crossed their path became sullen and vicious. All called them “cursed.”

It was for that reason that General Flintleaf finally listened to the voice. “I can break the curse on your people,” it promised smoothly. The temptation was too much—if he was able to alleviate their restlessness and instability, he would do whatever it took—even if it meant walking into the courtyard of the frozen, shadowed castle.

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