White Roses Bloom

Chapter Two

     A group of men and women walked across an empty kingdom. Their mouths hung open in shock and horror. No one spoke, making the silence even more eerie. A torn fabric of red fluttered in the breeze, the shape of a golden rose distorted by the mutilations. Corpses littered the ground, all sustaining varying injuries. Every corpse carried a look of horror and agony upon their dead faces. The group tried to ignore the smell of blood and decay, but all the death around them was taking over. A scent of smoke clung to the air as fires consumed the town’s houses. Oddly though, white roses were blossoming all across the kingdom.
     “No wonder Idris never showed up to trade,” a woman's voice called from the group, defeat clutching to her voice. The leader of the group, a young knight, held his tongue. He did not wish to disrespect anyone, but the fact that no one from Idris showed up for trade seems like the least of their problems right now. The knight stared around in confusion. He was completely unsure on what to do. Was there even survivors to look for? Had everyone in this town died?
     The knight felt something against his foot and looked down. His hardened grey eyes widened in shock and horror. At his feet was the pale, mutilated corpse of the king. Blood pooled around the body and soaked the king’s torn clothes. In the King’s arms was the body of a little boy who had one arm completely torn off. The knight felt a small smile form on his lips. At least the king had died protecting one of his subjects. Upon closer inspection of the corpses, the knight spotted black rings under the skin, surrounding the wounds. The knight sighed. If there was anyone who survived what happened, they're most likely dead now, due to the venom that hid under their skin. The poison that these creatures left every time they attacked. Just in case you survive their attack, the creatures always make sure you die in the end.
     The knight turned to the rest of his group, his face somber. “I know that this looks hopeless, like there is no one alive in this goddamned kingdom...but we have to look. If anyone is alive out there, we cannot abandon them to die. We will travel the city and meet by the East Gate at sun down. Look for any survivors you can find. Split off into groups of two now,” the knight ordered, trying to inspire his party. The group split off quickly, although there was an odd number of them, which left the knight by himself. The knight brushed back his brown hair and sighed. He began walking down the paths, avoiding the corpses and rubble carefully, heading towards the castle.
     His footsteps echoed off of the hollow walls. The silence was deafening. The once thriving kingdom was completely terrifying without the lively talking of the people in the streets. It was lifeless, bleak, empty, a living nightmare. The knight pushed open the castle door. A cloud of crushed rocks and dust fell down from the pine wood door as it creaked open. The knight stepped into the entrance hall and horror rushed over him. Littered across the hall was the mutilated corpses of the castle servants, fear and panic still engraved upon their dead faces. Hopeless washed over the knight. Was everyone in Idris really dead?
      The knight stepped past the bodies, struggling to hold his head high. The sound of his shoes clicking against the floor echoed down the lifeless halls. As the knight reached the top of the stairs, he could hear the scraping of stones. The knight froze and drew his sword from the hilt at his waist. Something was not right here, and the knight knew that. Cautiously, the knight made his way down the hall. Someone’s agonizing shriek echoed down the hall, making the knight tense. The knight broke into a sprint down the hall, heading towards the shriek. As the knight reached one of the halls, he stopped dead in his tracks. The whole hallway was exploded. The furniture around the room was engulfed in flames. Rubble littered the floor in piles large enough to hold people underneath. The knight’s jaw dropped as he continued forward.
      Suddenly, the knight tripped, falling to the ground. He looked back towards his feet and his eyes widened in a mixture of disgust and horror. At his feet was a corpse, with her chest split in half, a large hole tearing into the flesh at the centre. The knight frowned as realization crossed him. That was the queen. The queen was dead too. As the knight pulled himself to stand, he heard another sound of scraping stones, then a pained gasp. One of the piles of rubble moved slightly, as though someone inside was urgently trying to claw their way out. The knight ran to the pile of rubble and began pulling the debris apart in desperation. Cutting his hand on the rough rocks, the debris was quickly soaked in the crimson blood of the knight. Soon, pale skin was visible for debris, and it was almost impossible to believe who had been trapped underneath. Under that pile of rubble, was a five year old girl, bleeding, broken, bruised, hungry, lonely, grieving, and dehydrated. That girl bore a title that some only dreamed to carry. Her name was Portabella, princess of Idris.