The Unicorn’s Bargain

When God walked earth in silver mist

and Time was still a fawn,

He made the first unicorn

from fragments of the dawn:

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One shaft of light for its bright horn,

A snowdrift for its side,

The wind’s own voice for trembling breath,

And for its heart—pure pride.

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"Go heal the wounded world," God said,

"But never taste man’s gold.

For once you take his offerings,

Your magic will grow cold."

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For centuries it wandered

Where war or plague had been,

Its horn drew poison from the sick,

Its tears made deserts green.

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Until a starving, cunning king

whose lands were black with death,

Laid not gold to trap the beast,

But his last child’s faint breath.

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The unicorn knelt in the dirt

Where the pale princess lay,

And as its horn touched her chest,

The king’s men sprang to slay.

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No blade could pierce its moonlit hide—

Until the dying girl

Reached up and grasped the spiraled horn

With fingers made of pearl.

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"I give you love," she whispered,

"The one thing that you lack.

Now heal my people not from duty…

Heal and bring them back."

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The horn flashed once—then turned to dust,

The princess rose whole-eyed,

While where the unicorn once stood,

A white stag stood and cried.

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Now some say magic left the world

That day beneath the yew,

But midwives know when birth-blood flows,

A silver shape shines through.

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And deep in forests no man maps,

The stag still walks alone,

His antlers sharp with broken light,

His steps too soft for stone.

From the Bloodstained Folios of: The Lost Books - "Libri Perditi" -

where purity learns its own price.