Nightshade | ONC 2023

Chapter One | rewritten

The scent of rain hung heavy in the air, leaving the smell of overturned earth pressing into Azalea's nostrils. But it wasn't enough to overpower the heavy tar of the roof she waited on, hot and sticky beneath her body.

Despite the darkness that crept over the land, the tiles beneath her still radiated warmth.

In the distance, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled, a promise of the storm to come. Azalea would be grateful for the rain and the reprieve from the spring heat that crept into her suit, making her skin slick with sweat.

Across the expansive and well-kempt lawn, a manor house stood.

It was three stories of pristine white brick with large windows. A rose garden flanked the back of the house, a maze of prickly thorn bushes taller than Azalea. Perfect cover.

Several of the large windows were open, curtains flickering in and out in time with the faint breeze.

Two guards walked across the grounds, their eyes vigilant. They kept their hands pressed against the swords hanging on their sides, ready to defend the manor at a moment's notice.

But despite their vigilance, they didn't see Azalea pressed against the roof of the expansive guesthouse. Her black suit helped her blend into the shadows that pressed in around her.

She watched and waited, even when her muscles ached and screamed in protest. The guards kept their rotations, never faltering in their steps, their hands still waiting on their swords. If only they knew that danger lurked just beyond their line of sight.

No one ever saw her until it was too late.

Lightning continued to flash across the sky, followed all too quickly by crackles of thunder. The breeze grew colder, heat shifting to make way for the spring storm.

When the rain finally fell, pouring cool water across her suit, she stayed perfectly still, breathing in the relaxing scent of fresh air. The water soothed the heavy heat that clung to her and she could have sighed in relief.

The rain plastered the loose strands of her hair across her face, but she didn't dare move a muscle to push them aside.

Around midnight, the two guards that patrolled the grounds changed their rotation, just as they always did. Her careful observations over the last few nights showed a specific pattern. The two guards would swap their duties with a fresh set, leaving a small gap in which she could make her move.

The two guards stepped into the manor, vanishing. For the next several minutes, there would be no one to guard the grounds.

As soon as they were out of sight, Azalea was on her feet. She launched herself off the building, rolling to a stop a few feet away from the roof she'd perched on. Rain rolled off her darker-than-night suit and pelted against her face as she moved across the grass.

In the maze of the roses, lightning flashed, illuminating the world for a half second. Red pressed in around her, the only color to be found. She moved towards the building, her time running thin.

Hidden behind a trellis of creeping ivy and roses in full bloom, a drainpipe waited. Water gushed freely from the end, splashing water onto Azalea's boots. Ignoring the icy cold that had crept into her skin from the rain and the drop in temperature, she grasped the drainpipe tightly before beginning her ascent.

Her gloves gripped tightly to the metal, which was sharp and unevenly cut around the edges. Despite her gloves, the metal poked and pricked at her skin. Ignoring the sharp sting of pain against her palms, she continued her climb, the wind and rain lashing against her.

At the top of the drainpipe, a window waited, curtain flickering, though it was soaked with rain. Azalea gripped the windowsill tightly, chips of paint flaking off under her fingertips.