The Silver Rose

01 | Thunder

Wet ground squished underneath her footsteps. She raised her head just to take a quick glance. Another pair of boots had come closer to her.

The man—Wil—spoke in his native tongue then. A thick accented, lovely language. Dracian. She hoped she didn't understand one word of it, was oblivious to what they conversed about like all the others, but so unfortunate the times were, she did and her heart fell into her stomach.

"What if it's the girl we're searching for?"

"What if she's not?" The soldier hissed. "Look at her. She's terrified. Do you think taking some random girl to the General based on doubt would be good? He'd have our heads."

Rosaline wished and prayed that they'd let her go. She wasn't whoever they were searching for. That part of her was long gone, buried beneath the torture of the prison and weight of dark loneliness. She wasn't special anymore. She didn't have her gift anymore.

The guard turned to face her this time, his voice soft and gentle. "For the sake of the people behind you, please take off your hood, Miss. No harm shall come to you, you have my word."

And it was then that she turned her head and glanced at the long line of refugees. Women, children, and the elderly. Injured and hungry, their fallen nation having turned its back on those poor souls.

A young child, her blonde hair circling her face stared back at Rosaline. Tears stained her innocent face. She clung to a thin boy, likely her brother. She'd realised during her journey here that the children had no parents.

They didn't deserve to witness more bloodshed.

Rosaline turned back to the soldier, nodding. She bit back her cry, and raised her shivering fingers to the hem of her hood.

She wasn't special anymore, she told herself. She'd lost her place in the society, her father, and her most divine ability, one that had guided her after her father had left the world. They wouldn't want her.

If only she'd had control over her divine gift, she could've easily escaped this.

I am not special. They don't want me.

Her hood fell to her shoulders, her golden hair coming out starkly. Someone gasped behind her, but she held her eyes to the ground, stiff and cold to the bone.

Silence.

Wind blew her greasy fair hair to her face. A stray tear slid down her cheek.

The guard in front of her sighed heavily before gripping her elbow gently and whispered, "You must come with us, Miss."

She whipped her head to him and met a deep set of brown eyes staring back at her, with sympathy or pity, she didn't know and didn't care.

"What?" She gasped out, her heart hammering inside her chest. She grasped his hand, trying to push it away but he didn't budge.

His grip turned firm as she tried to pull it out. He turned to Wil. "We don't wish to harm anyone. Please come with us, Miss Myracle."

Her eyes widened at her name, at the silent warning that flashed in his eyes. Shocked as she was at the strange discovery, he tugged her away from the metal gate, away from the people who cowered away even more at the sight of the soldiers that closed in now that her identity was revealed. Mervothees didn't even spare her a glance. She turned over her shoulders and stole a glance at the children.

Their eyes were filled with such horror, Rosaline's gut twisted. Hot tears rolled down her own cheeks.

"Miss, please don't let us force you," said the soldier as her feet resisted.