prologue - roses

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       The spring winds danced across the land of Azark. A field, famous for the blossoming of Creeked Lilies. Flowers well known for their color-changing habits. Rumors were spread continuously about the sight of these grand lilies, how could such life transform from a burning yellow to a joyous green within a blink of one's eye? Folks who've never seen the field scowled at the witchcraft that was the claimed lilies. Surely no good could come from such a monstrous tale about changing flowers? With no photo evidence of the asserted lilies, the world would remain in the dark about this bright flowers another day, and perhaps a lifetime.

The fall season winds were always kind to the lilies. The rainbow field blossomed as the flowers partnered with the wind to dance hand in hand. Petals from the frail plants began to rise above the ground. A young energized pale hand went to grab for the lilies, The flowers were much too focused on their dance to ever be stopped by the hand of a child. The child frowned, anxious to touch one of the delicate petals of the well-known lilies.

Petals latched onto the hair of the little girl, too mesmerized to even notice them there. They mixed there way into the golden blonde locks, securing a tempory stay for the time being. Petals also clung to the threadbare clothes the girl wore, adding color to her dull outfit.

"Audrey! Come now, dear." An older woman's voice spoke through the calming winds. "Your father is waiting!" The girl couldn't hear her mother as she danced along with the lilies. The mother pressed her lips together in worry as she glanced up at the dark gray clouds above. A storm was on the way, and a field with no cover was never the right place to be during heavy rainfall.

"Audrey don't make me repeat it!" Her mother hollered, raising her voice. "I will come over there and drag you out of those disgusting plants myself!"

The girl still seemed to be tuning out her mother, now focused on one single petal on the ground. A color she's never seen before in this world. A color she couldn't describe, for it has never been taught at her school. A color she couldn't, no, wouldn't believe is real. Her frail hands dived into the field for this petal. She picked it up and grasped it in her hand. Gasping at the sight of this wonder. She swiftly turned around, jumping with excitement to show her beloved mother. Only to see an unfamiliar setting. One that didn't have that homely feel Azark possessed. Dazed and confused she looked around, all the colorful lilies were replaced with white thornless roses. Diamond tears filled her emerald eyes as she wailed out to her mother. However, her mother wasn't anywhere to be found.

Audrey Kepner was gone.

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"Burn the field!" An angry voice cried out from the formed riot

"It's far too large! A fire would bring our village to ashes! Are you trying to kill us all?" Another one hollered, this time the voice of a desperate housewife.

"It took my child! It can take yours too, just as easy!" Audrey's mother sobbed. "Maybe even easier!" She finished with another sob.

Mothers in the crowd held their children closer, tears formed just from the thought of losing their world. A torch rose through the group, sending the crowd into silence as heads turned. The flame belonged to Jolene Patrick, the only female botanist in Azark. She was thrown from the village Karkith, a place oceans away. Her father was the one who ordered for her to discover and exploit the field of lilies, hoping to give wealth to the family. However last week when the news spread of the first disappearing girl, she set her work ablaze. Throwing the ashes into the river. Seven years of research and money, now at the bottom of the Lent River, swept away never to be looked into again. This morning she received a letter in the post from her father, it was short and sweet, and clear as crystal.

It read in bold cursive lettering, 'Don't come back.'

Hours before this very riot, her sacred family photos and letters joined the other ashes of research at the bottom of Lent River.

"I'll set ablaze to this field if it means protecting our future." She cried. "I'm not afraid of the risk, and you shouldn't be either if it means we can rid of this destruction."

"How can we believe her! She's barely sane. She screams to be locked up with the rest of the wicked!" The butcher hollered, holding a torch to his face to radiate light off his beard.

The town asylum was an old-fashioned brick house, smudges of mud, blood, and clay stained the walls a deep reddish-brown. No one who went it was seen again. Old barber Gene was sentenced into the asylum, after cutting a little to close to the mayor's throat during a monthly beard trim. He was found dead two weeks later, rotting in the cell of what is meant to supposedly help and cure the insane. Rumors say it was starvation that killed him, but most believe it was murder from the head of the asylum, Timond Morris.

The terrified townspeople continued to holler as the sky grew dark, thunder roared, and lightning began to strike. The people barely noticed they were too busy yelling at each other. The loud sounds echoed across the smoky skies, the only light was found from the radiation of the mob's torches, the lightning, and the moon. The winds blew at a very slow pace, it was and frigid, sending shocks of cold through the startled children lost in the crowd's roar. 

The arguing townspeople remained obvious even as the strike of lightning set sparks off at the major's house, filling his home with flames and dark ashy smoke. The contagious fire began to spread at such a pace, only alley cats were able to keep up with the flare's pathway.

The riot continued to argue, as their beloved town burned around them. A town that would never be the same.

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