Part 13
The sun dawned rose red that day: the Festival of Roses! It had come at last, and all the air was soft and bright, As the roses bloomed from every doorpost, every window, On the arches and the booths set up in the town square, On the awnings, on the tall poles raised high to the heavens, Everywhere were roses gleaming: lovely, brilliant, bright. Roses of all shades and hues: red, yellow, pink, and purple, White and blue, and other colors, some that had no name. Their sweet scents festooned the air, a vibrant, rosy fragrance. Roses smelled of rose: all was as it was meant to be. Saera took the rosy scent in as she woke from slumber, Arching her pale back as she sat up and yawned in bed. Back in the bed that she shared with Marin—this surprised her, Before she remembered that Marter had wanted that. She’d been ready to have sex with him, despite her worries, But he’d seen her fear, and said that it would not be right. So he’d walked her home, and helped her slip into a slumber. Saera chuckled, as her ghostly pale body sat there. She’d at least given him something that he could remember: A sight of her, naked, as she’d scrambled into bed, Turning round so he could see-- “Oh,” Saera murmured, frightened, As her right hand moved up her left arm, and she could feel: Feel the bullet wound that had now scarred. It stuck out plainly, Prominent enough to see from very close at hand. Saera filled with fear. “Oh, no,” she whispered, worried. “Oh, no!” Had Marter seen it? Had he seen it as she’d undressed? “Hmm,” hummed Marin, waking up beside her, yawning, stretching, As her bigger breasts went bouncing in the dim-lit room. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked her friend, as she beheld her. “Is something wrong?” as she saw her friend’s face fill with fear. “Nothing,” Saera said, and rose from bed, cast off her troubles, Though her pale skin did have goosebumps on it as she stood. So they and the two boys dressed, and walked into the main room, Where Daisy and all her children bustled merrily. Orchid and Chrysanthemum were jumping in excitement, And Marter could not be fully seen amid their fun. “Oh, you’re just in time!” said Daisy to the Elementals. “Come look! Come and see our Rose King! See how grand he is!” Saera blushed to see him. A long red cape flowed about him, Draping off his shoulders for a regal, noble look. And upon his head there sat a woven crown of roses: Real, live roses had been twisted round about his head. “You look awesome!” Ardo said, red eyes alive with wonder. “Yes,” said Saera gently, “you really do look quite nice.” Marter smiled warmly at her—but suddenly grimaced, And Saera cried, “Oh! You’re bleeding!” for indeed he was. A long line of bright red blood went sliding down his forehead. “Yes,” said Marter. “All roses have thorns, you know that, right?” “I... suppose...” said Saera, filled with dread then for some reason, Though the sun outside was bright, and the Spring sky was blue. “Our brother’s the best!” said Orchid, wrapping round his brother. “He’ll be the best Rose King ever!” said Chrysanthemum. “All right, you two, go outside and play,” said Daisy to them. “Our four guests still need to eat their breakfast, after all.” So the children ran outside with wild peals of laughter As the Elementals round the kitchen table sat. “Daisy, thanks for all you’ve done for us,” said Ardo, smiling. “I was happy to help out such young people in need. You all seemed so desperate, and so alone and hungry. How could I not help?” said Daisy, eyes upon them kind. “We may need to leave soon,” Terry said, and Daisy started. “I’m sorry, Miss Daisy, but we soon may have to go.” “Leave? But why? My house is yours as long as you four want it. You can stay forever! I’ll look after you, I swear.” “It’s just...” Marin said, and sighed, her blue eyes drifted sideways. “It’s just that there’s danger following us,” Saera said. “This village will be in danger as long as we stay here. We need to leave to protect you—because we love you.” “Oh, that’s very sweet of you to say, Saera,” said Daisy. “But what danger could four teenagers present for us?” “Mama, mama!” came a cry, a frightened, worried calling, And the front door burst open with an enormous BANG. Orchid and Chrysanthemum came running in at full speed, Both of them quite pale, with eyes gone wide in shock and fright. “Mama, there are monsters in the street!” Chrysanthemum said. “Oh, my dear, monsters aren’t real,” said Daisy, hugging her. “You are just imagining--” but then a long, loud sound rose, A loud, triple-trilling trumpet sound snapped in the air, Rolling out across the fields: a hunter’s cry, a baying. The sounds of a predator that had cornered its prey. All four Elementals reeled in shock and dread and terror. “No! Not now!” cried Saera, silver eyes gone wide in fright. They all hurried to the door, and joined Daisy in watching. All the villagers likewise came out to see—and screamed. Three huge beasts were standing in the middle of the village, Towering amid it, barely seeming to be real. Standing in the sunshine they were all as black as midnight, Like things from a nightmare that had burst into the day. They had long and mighty legs, upon which they were standing, Legs like predatory dinosaurs’, with large clawed feet. Longer than their legs were their great arms, that twitched and shifted, Packed with muscle, and with metal ribbing on their lines, Arms that ended in hands with three fingers, and three huge claws, Claws that glinted dull red in the sunshine, full of wrath. The arms grew out of a massive torso, with a deep chest, Around which was wrapped great metal armor plates, dull gray. A thick neck sprang forward, and it ended in a long head, A huge, long head with a long snout, and long, mighty jaws. Two long nostrils ran in slits along the long snout’s distance, Nostrils that were even now raised up to sniff the air. And at the snout’s start, there gleamed within the beasts’ heads bright eyes: Eyes that shone a hellish neon red, with pupils black. All three great behemoths stood there, looking round, not blinking, Looking at the villagers who, frightened, looked at them. “Stalkers,” whispered Marin, who in fear began to shiver, Worried that the monsters had already found their scent. Stalkers—things made by the Technocracy’s mighty science, Hunting hounds that tracked their prey for long and distance leagues. They were a class of lifeform all by themselves: Nephilim! Unnatural and artificial, things that should not be. “Do they smell us?” whispered Ardo, slinking backwards, priming, As his fingers itched to snap and bring their flames to life. “It doesn’t look like they know we’re here,” said Terry, worried. “Gabrielle was right. They’re here, but they’re not here for us.” As if on cue, out of the sky came a black shape, blurring, Something that came streaking down and then abruptly stopped. It looked like a great and rounded wedge, sleek jet black colored, Lithe and polished, optimized to travel through the air. Its base opened up, and with a glimmer of red neon, A shape clad in dark black robes went floating to the ground. It was a woman, a lady wearing monkish habit, With her hood drawn o’er her face as her boots touched the earth. But she drew her hood back then, and showed them all her visage: A woman of lovely beauty, yet with face set hard. Her skin was of sallow shade, her eyes a dark brown color, And her chin-length hair was dyed a vibrant purple hue. And around her temples there were traced lines of red neon, Gleaming lines of red that were tattooed into her skin. Terry winced. “It’s Sister Murasaki,” he said softly. “I remember her; she’s one of Arius’ goons.” “Where’s the leader of this village?!” Murasaki shouted, Stepping from the shadow of her craft into the sun. “Come now, speak up: who is in charge here?” she cried intensely. “Bring him to me, I would like to speak to him at once.” “I-I am chieftain here,” said Oakflower, who stepped forth meekly, Terror in his eyes as he beheld the Stalkers three. “Come,” said Muraski curtly, voice growing impatient. “Come, I have no time to waste, the day is getting on.” The old man’s proud gait was reduced to a careful shuffle As he haltingly stepped toward the female Technocrat. “M-Miss, what can I do for you?” he said, and eyed the Stalkers. Murasaki smirked at him, enjoyed seeing his fear. “You needn’t worry about them,” she said, and rubbed one’s snout. “They will not attack you unless I command them to. Now, you are the leader here?” “I am,” Oakflower told her. “Good. I’ve come to look for someone by the name of Rose.” Saera gasped—all four of them gasped in their dawning horror. “Is she here?” asked Murasaki, dark eyes narrowing. “I… I don’t know where she is!” cried Oakflower in terror. “She did not talk to us much, she merely came and went.” “I suspect you’re lying,” Murasaki snarled out to him. “Out with it! You’re keeping me from valuable research. I have orders to conduct a study, and then kill her. And I am permitted to use all violence I need. So: tell me where Rose is, or everyone here will suffer!” At this she snapped loud her fingers, twice with rapid force. All three Stalkers stood up straighter, long claws flexing hugely, As their long jaws opened, baring white, enormous teeth. “I-I don’t know, I swear!” said Oakflower, nearly in tears now. Murasaki’s fingertips began to glow bright red. Oakflower felt his body’s control suddenly leave him, And he jerked and stiffened as his limbs were not his own. Muraski bent her wrist and Oakflower jerked downward, Falling down upon his knees and bowing his bald head. “I do not much tolerate the insolence of peasants,” Murasaki growled, her voice gone flat, her eyes gone cold. “I have proof that she has been here, and I’ll have her, or else! So, one last time,” she said cruelly, “where is this girl, Rose?” Saera breathed hard. Ardo, Marin, Terry all looked at her. Fear was in her silver eyes, and now she steeled herself. She prepared to step out and reveal herself openly. She had to! She’d failed, and now the worst had come to pass. So she steeled herself. She readied for a confrontation, And she made to move away from Daisy and her friends. “Here I am!” a voice cried out, arising in the sunshine. And a figure began walking toward the Technocrat. “You want Rose? I’m here! I’ve come!” the voice said, clear and ringing. “Marter, no!” cried Daisy—for it was Marter, indeed! He came walking, wearing his red cape and crown of roses, Walking towards the Stalkers as Saera watched on in dread. He walked on, his head held high, his face set in a smile, As the Stalkers gazed at him with their unblinking eyes. Murasaki flicked her wrist, and flung Oakflower backwards. “I was told Rose was a girl,” she said as Marter came. “You were told wrong,” Marter said, as he stopped right before her. “I am the one responsible for what Rose has done.” He glanced o’er his shoulder then, back towards his mother’s cottage, And his eyes, so clear and green, met Saera’s silver gaze. She was staring, eyes gone wide, a look of terror on her. He smiled. He winked at her, and then turned back around. “If I weren’t Rose, why would I wear this crown of roses? If someone is to be punished here, let it be me.” “Hmm, well you do look the part,” said Murasaki slowly. “And I have been given bad intel before, that’s true. Well, this makes my job easy,” she said, and grinned with cruelty. She snapped her fingers three times, and then she said: “Kill him.” All the Stalkers lunged as one, their white teeth awful, brilliant. In an eyeblink Marter was completely ripped apart. The three Stalkers tore him limb from limb, and they consumed him, Petals from his crown of roses flying round their jaws. The black monsters took no time devouring him completely, Using their prehensile tongues to catch each chunk of his.
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