Her growl echoed through her abandoned castle as she found no more answers about the flower. She touched the rose ever so gently before she pushed herself away forcefully, annoyed with it. "Why can't you just," Corla fumbled for words as she backed away from her flower, "live?" She shook her head when the flower stayed the same. It was older than it was before, and though it was greying, it still had red left. She felt a growl grow in the back of her throat but gulped it down before she walked around the ballroom a few times. Her gaze fell onto the painting above her head, which held a world of smiles and dances that people got to enjoy. Corla wanted to break it to small fines but decided against it when she saw one of the couples with the calmest smile she'd ever saw. She stopped and stared at the one couple as if it were the only hope she really had.
"No," her growl escaped and she turned away from the ballroom and the painting that held above it. "There are things needing to be done."
Corla again tried to move out of the castle, but she was more cautious than last time. She looked around and saw that nobody was there watching her, which made her a little calmer. She breathed out a sigh and took a step out, but when her paw hit the ground, she jumped back and let out a small cry.
Corla felt the pain sizzle away like a dying fire before she took steps back from the still open door. She glared furiously as she cracked her neck. She tightened her fists that were rested hastily on her sides. Her legs felt like both stone and rubber, and her veins felt like they were on fire. Then the growl began to come up from the back of her throat before she ran toward the open air, as if she were trying to beat the speed of light. The growl came to life and when the screams played off around her, her growl protected her. Little sparks of electricity came to life underneath her feet, and soon, fire was set inside of her veins, but her adrenaline lowered the pain by half. Her eyes squinted when she felt little pricks on every inch of her furry skin.
Then finally, there she was, standing by the closed metal gate that blocked her from seeing the rest of the world. The shocks, the stings, the firey pains all still remained as she stood with her heart beating rapidly.
She was just one step closer to having the king.
YOU ARE READING
The Dying Rose
Fantasy**SLOW UPDATES** The Beast had always been just a made up story that villagers would share about for fun around fires. They didn't know what it even looked like, or who it really was. Corla had been taken away from her home when she was six years o...
