Rosalind: Book One

64- Brutal

Caspian and Rosalind lay tangled in each other, enveloped in the warmth of the lord's wings. As the beast ran his fingers through her hair, Rosalind looked towards the window and watched the peculiar flashes of light streak across the sky like some malformed animal. Pale blue was surrounded by green and yellow, the peculiar shape rose and fell over the horizon like a wave. Rosalind moved the bedsheets off her and walked to the window to look outside. "What is that?" she asked her lover who followed and snaked his arms around her waist.

Looking at the odd light, Caspian replied, "I have never seen light like that, beloved,"

"How curious," she whispered mostly to herself as she touched the glass.

Caspian leaned into her neck and placed his lips upon her collarbone. "Are you not cold?" he asked. Both stood unclothed at the mercy of the chilly room.

"No." Watching the tail of the light vanish behind a cloud, Rosalind turned to her lover and snuggled into his chest. "I am warm enough."

"I will have to leave soon," Caspian uttered with a sigh.

"I know."

Tilting her face up to him, Caspian asked, "What if I never see you again?"

"I will come to you," she promised. "I do not know how, but I will find a way."

"It will not be easy leaving your home. Your father let you go once, I do not think he will let you go again."

"Caspian," Rosalind said softly, "I will not lead the rest of my life with only memories of tonight. I will find a way." Gently she took his hand and led him back to her bed. "Stay just a little bit more?"

When dawn came, Rosalind reached over to Caspian only to find that spot of her bed empty. Opening her eyes, she regarded the area where he had lain. Tears burned but she would not allow them to spill. Moving to Caspian's side, she buried her face in the pillow and breathed in the remaining scent of him. It reminded her of the Dragon's Tongue, the faint traces of molasses lingered.

Rosalind rose and slipped into her nightdress. Breakfast would be served soon which meant she would have to dress properly and brush Caspian's caresses out of her hair. Clairie would later come up to her room to change her sheets and Rosalind wondered what she would tell her maid if Clairie decided not to be so discrete. Pacing, she thought. Pretend you had another man...Stefan. Yes, tell them he was here. Clairie would never tell father. She knows how to keep these sorts of secrets. Satisfied with her lie, Rosalind glanced at her bed yet her gaze fell to the skirting. She knew the box would have to be opened soon. Sitting on the floor, she slid her hand under her bed and pulled the box out.

Lilly Van Voreen's property sat now on her lap. Between heartbeats, Rosalind opened the lid and looked inside. Paper after paper filled the box. Each one was dated nearly one hundred years ago. Exquisite penmanship inked their truth. Rosalind picked up one sheet and began to read.

"With the witch's curse over the lord of the Borgo came a curse to damn all of Transylvania. Her spiteful need for revenge upon Lord Caspian has damned us all into an eternity of hellish snowfall and cold. I know what I must do for it is my calling. I thank the Heavens for the blade blessed upon me by my own great-great-grandmother who slew her own beast, the Devon Devil, and thank her soul for the gift she has bestowed upon me, this gift of ridding the world of whatever beast may come. As her before me, I am the chosen one. I am the daughter who has come on the last full moon one hundred years after the last chosen one's death. I am the one who slays. The monster hunter. A killer of vampires."

Frowning, Rosalind set the piece of paper down and picked up another. "I see the beast's corruption. The citizens of this once beloved place falling into death and fear. He kills, he maimes yet he is untouchable by Man and God alike –"

Loosening her grip, the sheet fluttered onto the floor. Another one of Lilly's testimonies was reached for. "In my dreams, he comes. I see the pandemonium he shall bring. If in one hundred years the beast is not killed by a slayer, an eternity of darkness will befall Transylvania. The land will grow darker by the day, streaks of blue, green and yellow light will slash the sky. Soon the snow will fall harder and faster until whatever is left alive dies. There will be no crops, no livestock. I see the people growing hungry and the beast reigning over a land of ice and snow like some dark king. The trees will become his knights, coming to life as undead monstrosities to reside in a nightmarish kingdom with starving, frozen subjects wishing for a quick death. The beast will ride forth upon steeds of rot, claiming Transylvania as his own. When this happens, the skies will weep blood and the white snow will eventually turn red. My dreams haunt me. I am terrified by visions."

Rosalind hurled the sheet away, her heart hammering with a force that took her breath away. Yet she could not stop reading. "May God have mercy upon our souls if the beast is to resurrect love for it will bring the horror on faster. If anyone is ever to fall for that inhumane, unGodly creature, killing him --" The rest of Lilly's scrawlings had been smudged beyond recognition, as if someone had spilled water upon the fresh ink.

The sheets were discarded left and right of Rosalind. She dug into the box and pulled out another. This time, the writing was nearly ineligible, the letters looked shaky. "The fever will claim me soon. I feel death scratching at my window, soon it will enter with the winter's wind and sit at the foot of my bed. I do not fear death. What I fear is that I was not able to fulfill my task. I will leave this world with regret. I was not able to rid my beloved homeland of the Borgo Beast. I hope and I pray that on the last full moon, one hundred years from my passing, another girl, born blood of my kind's blood and bone of our bone, will be born. Her name shall be of flowers, as mine and grandmother Violet's before me. If she finds this box, I pray she will use the knowledge she has found inside. Dear great-great-granddaughter, break this box for between the twin layers of the bottom lays the vorpal blade, it is the only way to rid Transylvania of this horror. Use it to kill the Borgo Beast, drive it into his heart. You are our last chance."

There was one more piece of paper left, unfolding it, Rosalind cried as she witnessed her mother's letters. "Dear Rosalind, may you find it in your heart to one day forgive us for leaving you with this legacy, my family's legacy. I wish I had been the one to carry this burden but it is in your hands, my daughter. The last full moon of the year had brought you to me, one hundred years to the day Lilly died, but you are not mine. You belong to the blade. May your task be fruitful and your kill be swift. And may the monster you have been linked to die in brutal horror. Love, Heather Hershel." 

Under the last sheet was a photograph of Lilly. The resemblance between the two women was remarkable. It was as though Rosalind was looking at a photo of her own self. "The Van Voreen girl. You were my great-great-grandmother...my kin." 

With trembling hands, Rosalind set the box down. Using her hairbrush, she broke the case in two. Between the thin layers, a long-handled blade shone. Picking it up, she saw a single etching on the handle, that of a long-stemmed rose.

"But how can I kill him when I love him?" she choked back the tears feeling as though she were suddenly being attacked. 

Rosalind felt her breath knocked out of her by the brutal force of this newly found truth. She was not an ordinary young lady, not a simple gentleman's daughter nor the lover of the Borgo Beast and his son. She was the descendant of the Van Voreen girl. Rosalind Hershel was a slayer.