Black Rose, a Cursed Child

IV/ The Winter Child

       The hundreds of people gathered in front of Lan's temple froze. Not a breath, not a word disturbed the icy silence of that winter night. With my feet buried in a thick layer of snow, I was as forbidden as the other pilgrims. What was the emperor doing here, on the highest peak of the mountains? Accompanied only by a few elite soldiers and hooded men, he looked down on the crowd from his white stallion. His rich winter clothes flapped in the night wind. No one had doubted his status for a moment: I had never seen our emperor, but the man standing before us exuded authority. His bearing, his look, his clothes, everything betrayed the man trained to rule and fight. He opened his mouth, and a deep, powerful voice echoed through the night: "People of Afthonia, the hour is grave. I see you here tonight, all gathered to perform the sacred rituals that have protected us for centuries. But I come in person, on this divine day, because an evil presence stains this place and threatens the Empire. There were indistinct murmurs from the crowd. The man spoke again: "Among you today is the embodiment of evil. The Circle of Prophets sees all, hears all, knows all: the Winter Child will break the balance that our Priests have worked so hard to maintain for hundreds of years. Today is the day when, in front of Lan's eyes, we will eradicate the evil."

My heart missed a beat. My ears were ringing. Everything around me became a blur. Winter's child. The whispers turned into a burst of voices. Winter's child. Thousands of voices. The embodiment of evil. I am fifteen years old. I can't be the daughter of the prophecy. I don't want to be. Lan, help me. Thoughts raced confusedly through my head. I didn't hear what the emperor said next. I only wanted to escape into the distance. How had I come to this?

Pain. I reflexively put a hand to my temple. Blood. At my feet a stone lay in the snow. I looked up in disbelief and saw an angry crowd in front of me. In front of these people I could see hatred oozing from every pore of their skin. Their mouths were spitting venom, their hands, stones. The second one hit me in the chest. I cannot blame the one who threw the first stone at me. It was the baker in my village. They had quickly made the connection. No, I didn't blame him. But I saw a hand throw a stone at me, and it hit me in the heart. It broke forever that day. That hand belonged to a face with a tanned complexion and black hair, whose wild curls fell over jet-black eyes. Andrei was throwing his hatred in my face. I should have known better. So that it wouldn't hurt. He who has already betrayed you will never be satisfied with just one. The blows rained down on me, and I soon collapsed in the snow, which turned purple. Blood trickled from my many wounds. Every inch of my body burned, as if all the demons of the earth were fighting over my flesh. I covered my face with my arms, a meagre protection. With my face awash in blood and sleet, I saw shapes pushing the angry crowd away from my bloody body. Firm hands took me by the arms and dragged me to the emperor. I wanted to flee, but my body would not respond. The soldiers knelt me before the emperor and lifted my chin to show him my face. I could barely hear him ask something of the hooded men beside him. They nodded in an inaudible whisper. In the distance I heard someone shouting my name. It was the desperate voice of my father. I wanted to scream, to call out to him, but only bloody gurgles escaped from my throat. "Dawn! Leave her alone, she's my daughter, she's not what you think!" A nod from the emperor, a sinister crack, a thud, and then nothing.

My father's voice had fallen silent.

One of the temple priests signalled to the men who were holding me still. They dragged me across the icy slabs of the temple. Incoherent and ephemeral feelings raced through my mind. Injustice, anger, fear? Or were all these feelings that make us human stifled by the pain that paralysed my body? I was kneeling like this, bloody and humiliated, in this temple I had once dreamed of. Everything was blurring around me, and I was hardly aware of the hundreds of voices that were gathered on this sacred mountain, murmuring the words of an unknown rite. The deep, low melody echoed between the stone walls. Gradually I felt the atmosphere grow heavier, even colder, as dark clouds gathered above us. The wind picked up. The whispers became more urgent. Terrified, I tried to look around. The faces of the pilgrims were closed, tense with extreme concentration. Only their lips were moving to the rhythm of this melody that was oppressing me. It was creeping into me, making my ears ring. I had the feeling that someone, or rather thousands of malevolent people were trying to get into my mind. A terrible pain twisted in my temples. I was beginning to lose consciousness. Everything was spinning around me.