Princess of Roses

Chapter 1: It all goes to hell

Having fought some of these things not so long ago, my muscles feel like they're on fire. But as one of the being's elongated limbs move towards Rose, I don't think twice before moving to block the attack with a dagger. Only for it to be knocked out of my hand.

Oh shit. I step back as it screeches and makes towards me. Eyes shutting as it draws closer against my better judgement. A yelp leaves my mouth as the action causes me to trip over a rock and fall on my ass on to the dirt floor.

A panic seizes my chest, memories of almost and certain death flashing through my mind in an unwelcome cycle. No. No! I don't want to die. I don't. I don't. I don't. I want to live!

Yet the searing pain I expect never comes. Instead I see a loud screech and the sound of something being knocked back. The air around me vibrates and my eyes snap open. Breaths still coming out in fast heaves.

"Mira, those daggers aren't gonna cut it." My darling cousin doesn't wait for a reply before she throws Storm Cleaver at me and decides she prefers to simply torch the approaching horde instead.

Annoyance starts to bubble, replacing the fear as I make to stand up. I bend down and grab the hilt of the sword from where she carelessly threw it beside me. But even as the annoyance lingers, it brings relief with it.

Just having her near makes me feel more confident. Is it a wonder I missed her so much? A small smile pulls my lips before they thin into a determined line and I swing the sword at the next approaching enemy.

As it slices through the being, making it fall to the ground in two writhing chunks, I feel I can perhaps understand why Rose prefers this weapon. It is certainly more efficient at getting rid of close range opponents. Although the way the two halves of a humanoid body turn into a writhing mess of black oozy tentacle like things is disturbing.

Ignoring the nausea that starts to make its presence known, I focus on slicing the next opponent, decidedly not looking at the floor after. With the sword in hand, it's just as taxing as the daggers if not more, but it's also easier to fight without being knocked back. I move to block the spear approaching Cylen's head, giving him time to turn and stab the creature with his own.

The red cloaked being falls to the ground, but neither of us spares it more than a glance. It's time to get to work.

In an empty temple, a red-cloaked woman kneels in front of an altar. An intricate statue of three women towers in front of her. Faces of the crone, the maiden, and the mother as they surround a central figure shrouded in red. The stone faces are turned up, looking at the slightly smaller statue with sombre kindness, as if uncertain of her actions. The stone ruffles of her cape fall to the ground from the throne she's sitting on.

Paying respect to the triple goddess is the first thing the red-cloaked woman does. Offering a prayer to each face before kowtowing in front of the throne. In any other setting, the central figure is the only one she'd give attention, but to disregard the triple goddess was asking to be cursed. Even one such as the maker of destiny could not fight against the all-seeing mother.

Gulping, she remained in position, hoping her mistress would not be angered by this course of action. It was never certain how she would react to these things until they were done. Kindness and cruelty were dual swords she wielded, and one could never be sure which one was coming to swipe off a head until it had happened.

Still. A message had been sent, telling her to await her instructions. The hard rock of the ground and the sweltering heat in the temple were of no consequence. To disobey the order was heresy. And one she would not commit.

"You have come." The woman made sure to keep her eyes on the ground as the firm voice echoed around her. It was not a question. There was no need to respond.