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To my surprise, the vines are no longer a whirling violent mass. In their place is a beautiful female lying asleep on a bed with the vines growing out of her womb. They don’t thrash or snap; instead, they stand still and slightly vibrate, like they are holding back—waiting for something.
I slowly walk closer, and that slight tug of apprehension returns to pull me back toward the vines—to this female.
“Rose!” Felix says, trying to run up closer to the side of the bed. But the vines rear back, ready to slice him in half.
I quickly run to get in front of him. They can’t take him from me. Not when I have finally found him!
“MINE!” I scream, staring down the vines.
Pain radiates throughout my entire being. The thorns pierce deeply into muscle and bone. The vines constrict around me, helping my blood flow faster into the greedy thorns.
“NO!” Felix screams from far away.
I try to find him through the mass of violent foliage and my hair, but I can’t see him. I can only hear his curses and threats.
I stop moving. The pain is almost unbearable as I am held suspended above the female, her copper eyes bright and baring into my soul. She tears through memories and emotions, searching for something I can’t name in order to help her find it faster. Black spots dance on the side of my vision, yet she still claws her way through memory after memory.
Finally, she stops. All is still except the screams and the combined scent of blood and smoke that permeates the air. Bodies litter the floor—their shredded organs and blood in pools beneath them. My family and my friends condensed down to mush beneath the feet of the monsters.
Dominic holds me in his arms and whispers threats in my ear so that I can’t hear what my father says. But I know he speaks. His lips move despite the blood pouring from them.
She doesn’t let go. She continues to drink from him. Felix’s father screams at her. But HE keeps me from hearing any of it.
But then her Rose’s deep copper eyes meet mine, and my soul is sucked from my body.
I observe a young girl with snow-white hair watch me drink from her father. Dominic whispers things in her ear to keep her distracted. To keep her from being traumatized by my father. She is so young and doesn’t deserve this.
“You tore a house apart in the name of your greed. Because of that, the shadows will bring forth the light needed to show the truth. And once the blood of a vengeful ghost is found, then this kingdom will finally be free of you,” the King shouts, pointing at my father.
But as soon as the words are spoken, I feel the magik slither into my womb and hold on tight. I try to let go, but Father continues to scream at me to finish it. I cannot disobey him, no matter how much I want to. He is my King. If I show any kind of weakness, he will kill me. It doesn’t matter if I am the heir to the throne; he will not tolerate any ounce of disobedience. And if I give in now, everything we have been working for will be in jeopardy.
The King goes limp in my arms, and my mouth goes dry as I swallow the last drop of his blood. I slowly lay him on the ground with as much respect as possible. This family didn’t deserve this.
I put my emotionless mask back in place before I turn toward my father’s outstretched hand. But before I can touch it, pain blasts through my body and forces me to my knees. I try to push it away until I can get somewhere private. My screams pierce the air, and my flesh splits open. But there is no blood. There is no gore. Only vines pour from my stomach. It feels like they are being ripped from my veins and organs. The vines get thicker and faster as they devour the bodies around me. I feel their essence being fed back to me and setting my veins on fire.
I hear their screams now, their last moments, because I hold their souls within me, keeping them prisoner until the blood of a vengeful ghost is found. Until I drink every last drop.
But then there is a reassuring voice that drowns out all the terrifying screams. “I hold no grudge against you. I know why you followed his orders. The curse latched onto you because of your desire to stop him. So use it. Wield it. Its power is now yours.”
My soul shoots back into my body, and I am once again staring into the copper eyes on the bed.
“Someone wants to talk to you,” she whispers in a raspy voice.
The world shifts and contorts, making my stomach cramp from fighting to hold on to anything inside of it. Colors dance until I land softly on my feet in the same room as the last vision. But there is no blood, gore, or Keryth destroying a family. The dark wood floors are so clean they shine in the candlelight of the giant chandeliers hanging from the impossibly high ceilings.
Memories of this room come flooding back all at once, playing before me in blue smoke and shadows. I see myself at five years old, playing with small dolls in the corner while my mother had tea with the other ladies. Ten years old painting while my father held meetings about the winter months. Fifteen, finally old enough to go to my first ball. But then there is only my father standing before me. His long white hair is in intricate braids that hang on each side of his kind face. His eyes glow with an eerie light that grows brighter when he smiles and reaches for me.
“My daughter, look how much you have grown,” his voice slightly echoes, but is still the same soothing cadence I have recently remembered.
“Father!” I run to him and hold on tight as his arms wrap around me.
“Oh, my beautiful, beautiful girl. I have been watching you as much as I can and am incredibly proud of you!”
A weird sensation moves through my bones, and tears pour from my eyes. My father carefully lifts me into his lap, holding me against his chest while rocking me back and forth. He does this every time I’m scared. He never cares how silly the thing that scared me is.
I look into his blue eyes and give him my best teary smile.
“Poppa, I’m sorry. I know you are busy.”
