Ivar and I have gathered in the Matriarch’s chambers to report on our misadventure in the marshlands. I sit shirtless, clinging to an old chair as Nyx examines my wound.
“Curious… I have not seen a wound like this for nearly a century” Nyx says. I yelp as she prods at my flesh, digging her wicked instruments deeper. The wound has worsened quickly, and the infection has begun to spread. After a moment she pauses.
“It can’t be…” Her eyes go wide at some realization, she stands quickly and begins searching a tall ornate bookshelf on the wall. Reading off the titles quietly to herself. She pulls a thick black tome from the shelf and lays it open on a table next to my chair. She underlines the words with her finger as she reads. Nyx suddenly looks up from her tome to me, a strange darkness looming in her eyes.
“Your wound is ancient… something so buried, I believed it to be lost in the aether. Though it seems the cult has managed to resurrect a dark power… Did you see anything strange in Sorrowmoore? Did anything happen you’ve not told me?” I look tentatively to Ivar, then back to Nyx.
“Before our assailants could finish their work, thorned vines erupted from the earth. They enveloped them, crushed them.” I pause for a moment, do I tell them what I saw? Nyx waits impatiently for me to continue. “Before the vines, a figure appeared. Clad in dark armor… with roses forged into it. It knelt the ground and planted a rose, then the vines enveloped the cultists, and the earth swallowed them…”
Nyx’s words are a soft and reverent whisper. “The Black Rose…”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I can’t hide this mark forever, and I need to know what it is.
“And then it gave me this.” I hold up my palm. A sight that is met with a sharp gasp from Nyx. “Do you know what this is Nyx?”
“The mark of the Rose Knight.” The Rose Knight… the legendary chosen warrior of the black rose. Usually reserved to kings and the great heroes of the world, so… why me? “This is why the cult wanted you. To rid the world of the next Rose Knight before its creation.”
Everyone in the room exchanges looks, all expressions are of disbelief. It seems impossibly random, yet that is not how The Black Rose works. All its judgments are purposeful, yet convoluted in reason to us. Though whatever its goal, I refuse to become a puppet.
“Why did it mark me?” I ask, grunting in pain as I turn to face her. She shakes her head.
“I do not know, as I’ve said before The Black Rose does not reveal much of its intentions to me. In time, all things shall be revealed.” She knows more than she’s letting on, but I’m in no position to argue.
“And what of this infection?"
Her eyes grow soft as they look into mine, searching for any words that would make this news easier to bear. “It will spread slowly throughout your body until, eventually, the Noxbleum takes control. And you no longer exist.” My heart drops, memories flash through my mind.
“You’ve a way to cure it?” Nyx looks away to the window, her lips pressed.
“Deep in the Mortem Glade there lies a slumbering king. He was the first to call upon The Black Rose, to turn the tide of war against the Noxbluem. The Black Rose granted him strength, and he became more than just a king. The Rose Knight they called him. The champion of The Black Rose. Born in humanity's darkest hour, he rose out of the dark and became a beacon to his people. With the help of The Black Rose the tide of war turned in favor of humanity.” She walks slowly over the bookshelf, admiring the ancient tomes as if they were old friends.
“But even with all the power The Black Rose offered the king, it was not enough to protect him from the Noxbleum. In the final battle of The War of Roses, the king was mortally wounded. Though still, humans won the war and retrieved their king. Apothocaries, mages, witches and all manner of healers visited the king. All their efforts in vain.” She runs her hand across the tomes, making her way to the window. She stands silent for a moment at the glass, looking out towards a distant land hidden by the thick trees of the Mournewood.
“That was over 100 years ago.” Her voice fades as she drifts into memory. Silent tears well in her eyes and slowly trickle down her cheek. “He was a kind man, a great ruler. He saved all of us, but we could not save him.” Guilt and grief fill her voice, as if she blames herself for the death of this king. She turns from us and wipes her eyes, embarrassed by the tears.
“All we can do is heal the physical wound.”
“What do you mean? Is there no way to break it?”
“No... and if this is the same affliction... You'll be dead within the year. But, allow me the night to commune with The Black Rose. If we’re fortunate, it will reveal your salvation.” She stands and gives me a soft motherly smile. “Now, go and see Aurora” She lingers silent for a moment. Her eyes glinting with a familiarity I cannot place. Before waving the door open with a hand and motioning us out. Ivar helps me up and wraps my arm around his neck. Together we limp towards the door.
“Goodnight, Lady Nyx. Thank you.” Ivar says, bowing his head. She returns the soft bow and watches us disappear down the hallway. The door shuts as we round the corner into the main foyer.
Soon we arrive at Aurora’s cottage, I raise my hand to the door, but voices inside freeze the motion.
“I’m tellin’ ye Rhys, that boy is hidin’ somethin’. I saw those vines burst from the ground just as you did. That’s no small time witchery, and he ain't even a witch.”
“Even so, the vines are the only reason we still draw breath. And by the look in his eyes, he didn’t know what to make of them either.”
“I ain’t buyin it, something ain’t right.” Silence for a moment, the sound of herbs being milled provides a dull static.
“Mother seems to think he’s important… The last man she thought was important died. She’s sending us all to our deaths. Chasing some fantasy, for a man we do not even know.” The words sting, but they ring true. I do not like this mission either, but I cannot do it without them. They need to know the truth. I regain control of my hand and knock. The voices stop, and the shuffling of feet moves towards the door. Creaking open we are greeted by Rhys.
“Ah, Soren, Ivar. I trust your meeting with the Matriarch went well?”
“No.” I give a somber smile and labour my way past him. Durin stares me down as I make my way towards Aurora. Looking up from her work she nods towards a wooden stool. She takes a vibrant green paste and spreads it onto a wide strip of cloth, and motions for me to present my wound. Roughly she places it over the gash, pressing hard. And though her hands are warm against my skin, her dark expression freezes my heart. I do not wish harm upon these people, and yet, here I am. The reason they will all meet their end. A sharp guilt fills me. She mutters a quiet incantation and with a faint green glow relief fills my body. My shoulders relax and I take my first full breath.
She removes the cloth and incinerates it, letting the ashes fall into a small metal bucket. She turns back to her workbench, and begins cleaning the space. I sit silent, searching for the words that would ease the tension. But none come. She stops for a moment, sighing deeply.
“I don’t know why my mother has taken such an interest in you, or why she’s bothering to save your life…” She bites her quivering lip and steadies herself. She turns to face me dark rage burns in her eyes. “If you get them killed. You will wish I had burned you in the marsh.” I nod. Letting the words take root within me, a violent silence tensing between us. She sighs, breaking the tension and pushes off the counter, making her way towards the others.
“Aurora wait…” I say. Before I can even think the words. She stops, keeping her back to me. “If you’re going to be risking your life to help me, by your own will or not. You at least deserve to know why I came here.” She turns to face me, waiting for me to continue.
“I’ve got more blood on my hands than I could have ever imagined. Sons, brothers, daughters, sisters… all of them. Put their unwavering faith in me. And now they’re nothing but parts scattered in the woods. And for what? For power? Fame? Knowledge? None of those things. For something far more simple… primal.” I drop my eyes to my hands. How much do I truly want to reveal to her. “Ivar and I were returning home from a job. Only to find that it had been raided. They burned everything, slaughtered everyone. Men, women, children. None were spared. I wandered through the embers of my village, searching desperately for any survivors. As I entered my home, I saw a woman standing over my family, her hands stained in blood. I lunged, but I wasn’t quick enough. Their lives were already spattered on the walls… ” My lip quivers at the words. I take a long shaky breath.
“My blade met nothing but air. She vanished… and through the dissipating black smoke the horrific reality shattered my entire world.” The memory flashes in my mind, the same pain shocks my body. But soon is replaced with rage. The same rage that has consumed me for years. “I came to Mournewood not for power or knowledge. I came to Mournewood for vengeance.”
Aurora’s reply is cut off by Rhys appearing behind her.
“Everything all right?” He asks. She turns her head sharply to him, flinching at his sudden appearance.
“Yes, we were just… talking.”
“Good! Now come both of you, Durin has outdone himself tonight!” Clapping his hands together in delight he returns to the others. Aurora lingers for a moment, but soon follows him.
I watch her leave and ponder her words once more. Is the cost of my family’s vindication truly worth it? If the cost is the lives of those that never knew them?
