A Survival Diary of an Elven Child [Western Fantasy]

The Silvermoon Forest, west of the continent of Phil, is the most dangerous forbidden zone. Legend has it that the mysterious elf race lives there. They are the darlings of the gods, blessed with beauty rivaling theirs and magical power close to divine.

The elves rely on the Tree of Life to bring forth the next generation. In a hundred years, it had produced only five little elves. But when the little elves emerged from their flower buds, the Tree of Life was ambushed by dark elves. Only Iris, still inside the last bud, absorbed the dark magic.

After his birth, Iris became a frail little elf, but even his fellow elves were captivated by his looks.

While other elf babies opened their mouths and cried, "Hungry, food!" Iris stared blankly at a petal until a drop of dew bonked him on the head, making him cry, "Waa!" as he came back to his senses.

While other little elf toddlers waved tree branches and chanted spells, making mushrooms explode with a crackle, Iris was still flapping his tiny wings, spinning around three times before face-planting into the grass.

While other little elf children hoisted little wooden bows and shot fruit with a whoosh, Iris strained until his face turned red trying to pull the bowstring. The bow didn't budge, and he plopped onto the ground instead. His eyes reddened, and he thought the bow had started it.

Iris's self-esteem took a serious hit, so he hid in Heweinoel's arms with tears in his eyes, seeking comfort.

Iris: "Heweinoel, I'm so dumb. I can't learn anything."

Heweinoel: "Iris, it doesn't matter if you can't learn. I'll protect you for the rest of your life!"

With tears in his eyes, Iris looked up and said stubbornly, "No. I want to become a great mage and protect you."

Theme: Hard work can make up for a lack of talent, and effort pays off.