~Buy Now Only On This Official Website~
About The "Shadow of the Wicked Tree Planter"
The village of Craghallon had always been a place of wonder. Hidden deep in the Enchanted Forest, it sparkled with sunlight that poured from the heavens. The leprechauns bustled cheerfully about their little cottages, with golden chimneys and moss-covered roofs. Their days were full of laughter and song. But one morning, the laughter stopped. Mick O’Gara, the head woodcutter, was the first to notice. As he rubbed sleep from his twinkling green eyes and stepped out of his cottage, the air felt...different. The warm sunlight that usually spilled over the valley was gone, replaced by an eerie, cold shadow. "By me axe!" Mick muttered, looking up. "What in the name of shamrocks is this?"
Towering, thick trees with knotted black trunks had sprung up overnight, their enormous, twisted branches locking together to form an impenetrable roof over the village. No sunlight could squeeze through. Day had turned to night. Villagers peeked nervously from their homes. The cheerful leprechauns of Craghallon were now pale with fright, their usual rosy cheeks looking as gloomy as the shadow above them. A crowd gathered in the village square as the Leprechaun Queen stepped out of her glowing emerald palace. Her silver hair shimmered, even in the darkness. "This," she said gravely, "is the work of the Wicked Tree Planter." Gasps rippled through the crowd. The Wicked Tree Planter was a name whispered only in hushed tones, a mysterious villain from dark tales. Mick tightened his grip on his trusty axe. "What does he want with Craghallon?" Mick asked, stepping forward. His sturdy boots clunked against the cobblestones. The Queen’s glowing staff cast faint light as she spoke. "The Wicked Tree Planter despises sunlight and joy. He wants to steal the Sunbeam Crystal—the source of our light and warmth. Without it, Craghallon will fall into eternal darkness." Mick’s jaw set in determination. "Then we won’t let him! I’ll chop down every last one of these cursed trees if I have to." A flicker of hope spread through the villagers, but the Queen raised a delicate, golden-leafed hand. "This is no ordinary darkness. The Wicked Tree Planter’s magic grows stronger the deeper into the forest you go. You cannot do this alone, Mick."
Just then, a soft whinny echoed through the square. Out of the shadows stepped a graceful figure with a shimmering white coat and a golden horn. Sasha the Unicorn lowered her silver mane, her violet eyes gleaming with calm courage. "Mick won’t be alone," she said softly. "I will join him." Before Mick could reply, a tiny voice piped up, "Me too!" Flitting through the air came Lottie the Fairy, her lavender hair bouncing as her rainbow-colored wings glittered faintly in the dim light. She landed on Mick’s shoulder. "I may be small, but I’ve got big magic. Let’s show that nasty tree planter he’s messed with the wrong village!"
Mick grinned. "That’s the spirit!" He turned to the villagers. "Don’t worry— we’ll get the Sunbeam Crystal back. And when we do, Craghallon will shine brighter than ever." With a cheer from the crowd, Mick, Sasha, and Lottie set off into the Enchanted Forest, where the darkness deepened with every step. The thick, shadowy trees whispered faintly, their gnarled branches reaching out as if to grab them. "Careful now," Lottie warned, her wings flitting nervously. "These trees are alive." Sasha’s glowing horn lit their path as Mick swung his axe, clearing the twisted undergrowth. But the further they walked, the colder the air became. Suddenly, a rustling sound made them all freeze. Mick raised his axe. "Who’s there?" From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in vines and moss, its glowing red eyes piercing the dark. It was the Wicked Tree Planter. "So," he croaked, his voice like the creak of ancient wood, "the leprechauns sent their bravest to stop me. How quaint." Mick squared his shoulders. "You’ve no right to darken our village. Return the Sunbeam Crystal!" The Wicked Tree Planter let out a chilling laugh. "Foolish little leprechaun. The Crystal belongs to me now. Craghallon will learn to love the dark—or perish in it."
