Swords and Flowers

Ch.6: Petals of Purple

The night was still and cold as Florence's hired mercenaries moved carefully through the dense trees, their silhouettes shadows beneath the gleam of the full moon. 

Florence was nowhere in sight, and they couldn't help but mutter complaints as they edged closer to their elusive target. A few of them glanced around in quiet frustration — left without much choice but to trust his vague instructions.

They moved into a clearing, their eyes adjusting to the strange, ethereal glow emanating from a field of hyacinths stretching far and wide under the moonlight. 

And there, standing quietly in the center, was the sorceress herself. Melana. 

Her back was turned to them, her long dark hair a cascade of midnight against her pale, almost ghostly figure. She seemed to be waiting, but her shoulders were relaxed, her stance casual, as though she sensed no threat at all.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" one of the men, a swordsman, whispered, his voice barely carrying in the silence.

A woman nodded, confusion flashing across his face. "It's just... it's just a girl."

"Just a girl," the archer repeated under his breath, uneasy. 

He had expected some monstrous entity, not someone who appeared so young, so unassuming. But Florence's orders were clear. Capture her — no questions asked.

The archer raised his hand, signaling the others to fan out and surround her. They glanced at each other in brief hesitation, each expecting Florence to appear and take charge. But when he didn't, they pressed forward, stepping into the clearing, each blade and bow drawn tight in tense readiness.

The moment they moved, Melana's head tilted slightly. 

She lifted her arms, and the field of hyacinths around her trembled, a whisper of sound carried by the night wind. "You dare intrude upon this... this peaceful place..."

Without turning to look, she rose gracefully into the air, the flowers at her feet stirring and lifting along with her — thousands of petals swirling up around her like a violet storm. The mercenaries stared, half-frozen in awe as the petals shimmered, catching the moonlight. 

"I-it's... beautiful." one of them, the swordsman, says half-mindedly.

Then, in a single fluid motion, Melana twisted her hand, and the petals transformed into glinting, razor-sharp blades.

"Move!" the archer shouted, shoving the dazed swordsman toward the cover of the trees. But before they could all react, the petal blades surged forward in a deadly wave, slicing through the air toward them.

Most of them scrambled behind trees, narrowly escaping the deadly rain. But the guide — the wiry man with weathered skin and a thousand-yard stare — wasn't quick enough. He stumbled, the petals of purple embedding in him with brutal precision. 

He staggered forward, eyes wide with shock as blood bloomed through his clothes. He fell to the ground, lifeless, his body crumpled in the delicate flowers that continued to swirl ominously around Melana.

"Damn it!" The archer gritted his teeth, notching an arrow. "You wanted a fight, girl? Fine!"

He drew his bow taut and fired an explosive arrow straight toward her, aiming to shake her concentration. "Dragon's Kiss!"

As the arrow neared her, Melana's hand shot out, her telekinetic hold snapping around it mid-air. But even with her grip, the arrow detonated, engulfing her in a cloud of smoke and blinding the mercenaries to her exact location.