CHAPTER ONE
MAN OF THE HOUR
It was a very dark and dim night as Zeron sat, waiting for Seraphina’s return. The cool air, rolling in through the window, pressed against his cheeks, stinging his skin and leaving them numb and dull from the cold embrace of night. He waved his finger, bringing instant warmth back to his cheeks, surrounding himself in an invisible pocket of heat with his magic.
“Where is that girl? She was supposed to be here an hour ago,” Zeron muttered to himself in an aggravated tone. She had a tendency to run a bit late, especially when it mattered most.
Zeron pulled an old, rumpled parchment out of the pocket of his smooth silk vest, staring at the symbols written in an ancient text.
“Merlin was so careful when putting this together, down to the smallest details. His one mistake was making notes,” Zeron said to himself with a smile.
Zeron continued to stare at the brittle parchment, sinking deeper in thought. It was so simple, yet Merlin had made it so damn complicated. He reviewed the written prophecy.
“When iron sleeps within ancient stone,
And silent truths lie tightly sewn,
The one who dares with heart laid bare
Shall draw the blade from cold despair.
Only when soul and steel are one
Shall secrets yield beneath the sun.
Through broken past and trials grim,
The hidden self shall rise within.
By hand unchained and spirit freed,
The stone shall crack, the soul shall bleed,
And what was bound in whispered night
Will stand revealed in sovereign light.”
He read the parchment over and over, then muttered, “My predicament will soon come to an end. Once I draw that sword then all my planning will be complete. Then and only then will the king’s head roll… Soon enough, my love – Staring at a large painting of a beautiful woman above the mantel sitting in a large field of flowers – we will be reunited. Soon my love.”
He smiled to himself, stroking the symbols on the paper. He was definitely obsessed, but how could he not be? The power—such a tremendous power—was trapped and bound inside cold stone, just sitting and waiting for him. Sleeping. Waiting. Dormant… It just needed a direction…
Sitting in this chair, thinking of the years spent waiting for his moment, it was so close, he could taste it. Just imagining finally getting everything he wanted. All he needed was for that girl to return from her mission. Then, he could finally destroy that man. The one man that had caused him so much suffering, so much pain.
Once he had the sword, the Stalemate the king had created would be over. He would finally gain the power to grant immortal life. First he needed only to get inside the city of Helliah.
Just the thought of breaking through the walls surrounding the city and slaughtering those who bend the knee to the king brought great excitement to Zeron. He didn’t care who it was or who they had waiting at home. It was retribution… and nothing else. Those who sided with that man that murdered his love were the enemy.
“Once they are out of the way, I will be able to…” Zeron started to say to himself when a pounding sound came from the door of his quarters. It tapped in two quick cycles of three in rapid succession. Knock, knock, knock… Knock, knock, knock…
“Enter, Seraphina,” called Zeron.
The young girl approached. Seraphina was a powerful sorceress, feared and revered for her dark and malevolent magic across the dark wizarding guilds. Her long, dark hair fell in loose waves around her pale face, framing her piercing, intoxicating green eyes that seemed to glow with a warm yet subtly sinister energy. Despite her slender frame and thin waist, there was a dangerous power that radiated from her—a bloodlust, almost.
One would expect nothing less from a disciple of Zeron. She sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to cross her path. Her enchanting allure was not one of beauty, but rather a twisted, wicked charisma that drew others into her web of darkness, much like a spider lures its prey.
Seraphina was a master of the dark arts, exactly what Zeron demanded of his apprentice. Her magic was fueled by a thirst for power and a strong desire to control those around her. Her cunning and intelligence were matched only by her cruelty, making her a truly formidable foe to anyone who dared to challenge her. She reveled in the destructive chaos her magic could cause, basking in the fear that inflicting suffering upon others brought. After all, it’s why he chose her… Someone who could feel no mercy for others.
Seraphina was a force to be reckoned with—dark malevolence incarnate, her presence casting a shadow over all who fell under her spell. All of those, except Zeron, that is.
“Master, I’ve returned,” proclaimed Seraphina, crossing the room and kneeling beside her master’s chair, presenting him with a cloth fully saturated in deep crimson blood. The twine-wrapped package brought great joy to her master’s face.
Zeron’s eyes grew wide as he meticulously gazed back and forth over the fabric, consuming every detail of the cloth bindings. Taking the cloth in his hands, he rose from his chair and began walking across the dimly lit room.
With his free hand, he moved it in a swift, twisting motion in front of himself. His magic stirred through the air causing a bright fire began to rise from all the candles in the room, a flame roaring to life beneath the mantel, where the deep cold ashes of the fireplace had once settled.
The light radiated through the dark room, revealing a tall space with a vaulted ceiling. Piles of old tomes and scrolls were stacked as high as the rafters in some areas, atop thick, hand-carved tables. Dusty old curtains hung to the sides of the arched stone windows. A deep, beautiful red armchair with gold grommets sat atop an old, round brown rug in front of a fireplace made of what appeared to be carved black stones. The stones were perfectly stacked with neatly mortared joints, filled with a brilliant gold mortar that almost sparkled in the light. The fireplace was like a mirror, reflecting light in every direction.
It was decorated with various old, unknown objects: wands, globes, and several coats hung on hooks down the side. The walls were painted dark green, neatly dressed with family photos of Zeron and his late wife, Freya. The green walls met gold molding on both the floor and ceiling. The floors were made of impeccable dark walnut planks. Zeron definitely had a way of keeping his quarters, and it was clear he had been studying generously over the past few months, judging by the scattered stacks of books, all covered in layers of dust.
“We will need a space to work, like the large table in the corner, won’t we, Seraphina?” Zeron asked, walking slowly across the room.
“Yes, master,” she hastily replied.
“Do you not think it’s time we put everything back in order?” he asked with an almost sarcastic tone.
With that question, he waved his finger in a small arching motion, and all the books, tomes, and even scrolls began to lift off, flying into the air. Dust went flying everywhere. Notes shot into specific books, almost as if everything was organizing itself. Zeron continued to move his finger, arching it back and forth like a metronome. The books spun faster… faster… until, one by one, they began to dance through the air, filling shelves that had been in disarray in an almost whimsical manner. Books on the shelves started to stand up, sliding side to side, jumping to life as they made their way into place.
Once all the tomes had found their way back into the proper shelving location, a group of feather dusters appeared, almost out of thin air, dusting the shelves, tables, and windowsills. Brooms—so many brooms—and mops began to sweep, then quickly polished the floors. The windows opened, allowing air to flow into the room, drying the floors while removing any remaining dust with an intense magical current.
Seraphina was always overjoyed, her face lighting up with a childlike look of amazement at the power her master held. She thought him truly brilliant to be able to conjure items while bending them to his will without so much as an incantation. He had a power like no other she had ever seen. He truly was the master of magic in her eyes. It was as if the magic was part of him.
“Girl, quit standing there staring. Quickly fetch me an eagle’s quill with an empty inkwell. We will also need a large blank papyrus parchment,” Zeron said flatly.
Without hesitation, Seraphina disappeared into a deep black cloud of smoke, passing through the wooden door, only to reappear moments later with an eagle’s quill in one hand and an empty inkwell atop a large piece of parchment in the other. She placed them onto the now spotless mahogany table.
Zeron made his way over to the large wooden table, placing the blood-soaked cloth to the left of the parchment. He rolled up his long white sleeve, took out a small but sharp dagger, and slowly made a small cut on his wrist, draining his blood into the empty inkwell.
As he pressed his finger over the wound, it instantly seemed to close with a faint searing noise, as if he were never injured at all, not even a scar or discoloration remained. Taking out his quill, he dipped it into the blood and began to draw five circles—one large in the center and four smaller ones, one in each corner. He inscribed symbols in the four small circles that appeared to be of an unknown origin, possibly a lost language.
“Master, now that we have retrieved one, what are you going to do to it?” asked Seraphina.
There was a long pause, and then Zeron let out a deep sigh. “We do not know if the artifact you retrieved has had any spells placed on it. You can never be too safe when one is this close to such a large prize. Especially after the long years of work to get this far. One tends to learn more by observing than by asking questions. Some answers in life will simply resolve themselves with time. A great sorcerer will make note of this,” Zeron said calmly.
“Understood, Master,” Seraphina replied, nodding.
Zeron took the twine encasing the blood-soaked cloth, delicately removing it and savoring the moment. Gently unwrapping the crimson-colored cloth, inside was a bruised and battered finger. It had the appearance of being forcefully removed, purple with torn pieces of epidermis hanging free from the end. On the finger was a silver ring with a circular top, showing a beautiful symbol engraved into a burnt-orange gemstone. A look of relief covered his face.
“Excellent work. Excellent indeed. You could have been a little more gentle,” he said with a smirk.
“What can I say? I am only a little girl,” Seraphina replied, a wicked grin spreading across her face.
“He was every bit of six feet tall. He definitely earned his title as Messenger of Judgment. Israfil stood no chance. He never suspected a thing until it was too late,” her amusement prominent. “If only I could have gotten the final blow before he escaped.”
Zeron waved his hands, causing all the blood from the cloth to be pulled into the air. It formed a perfect spherical ball that levitated, landing in the center sigil on the parchment. Carefully, he picked up the finger with a pair of utensils and placed it in the center portion as well. Using his free hand, he conjured electricity, slowly shocking the finger, making it move and contort. Blood from the parchment entered the finger before leaking back out, mixing with Zeron’s on the parchment. The blood from the outer four circles arced, meeting the edges of the center circle. Tendrils of blood climbed from the center circle, wrapping around the finger.
Taking the ring, they slowly pulled it from the severed finger, separating it.
This process was painstakingly difficult, taking hours of careful magical precision and intense concentration. The ring slid slowly until finally… it fell and bounced on the parchment before coming to a stop, becoming still.
“Removing the ring of one of the king’s top enforcers is no easy task. Typically, they melt if removed by anyone other than the bearer.” Zeron panted heavily.
Luckily, Zeron was no ordinary sorcerer.
“We just needed his blood. I cannot believe that after all these years, it was going to be as simple as this. Now that we have this ring, we will be able to cross directly into the heart of the city after we force them to open a barrier. After all, some magic always leaves a trace.” Zeron stood exhausted but glowing with the flame of victory.
“Seraphina, clean up the rest of this mess, then get some rest. Tomorrow, we have big things to accomplish. We must start setting our sights on the city. If we don’t act soon, they may catch wind of our scheme,” Zeron said, his voice heavy, exhausted from hours of intense concentration.
Zeron shuffled toward his chair, panting from exhaustion, as Seraphina began cleaning the blood from the extraction area immediately. Zeron slid the ring onto the ring finger of his right hand before staggering across the room. He moved his hand in a low wave, lowering the flames of all the candles lining the tall walls and decadent sconces.
Lowering himself into his armchair, Zeron leaned his head back, immediately falling asleep from exhaustion.
As Zeron slept deeply, Seraphina finished cleaning the mess from the ritual. She stocked the fire with logs before retiring for the evening. The look of joy on her face showed how pleased she was to see her master so accomplished after all his hard work over the years. She took out a blanket, covering her master, before passing out on the brown chaise lounge in the corner.
He awoke the next morning to the smell of fresh bacon and the crisp fall air. Sitting up in his chair, he looked out the window to see the butcher station, bloodied and well-used. Seraphina was already outside, having slaughtered breakfast. Using her quick incantations, she roasted the bacon to perfection. Zeron changed into a fresh vest before making his way to the table.
As he sat down, a curvy glass decanter filled with peach-colored juice floated over to fill his empty glass. Seraphina entered the room, speaking in what sounded like a dead language as she moved bacon, eggs, and bread onto his plate.
“Good morning, Master. I hope the meal is to your liking,” she said, bowing at the far end of the table.
“It smells terrific! What a perfect meal for our journey today,” Zeron replied eagerly.
“What is our next task, Master?” she asked.
“We are going to visit an old acquaintance who has been assisting me with a small favor. We’ll set off for the town of Malkii. It’s about a day’s journey from here,” Zeron said.
Zeron ate his breakfast, savoring the flavors, the sweet hickory flavor of the bacon paired with the herbed goat cheese used in the eggs. He loved the food Seraphina prepared. As he ate, he thought about how useful a tool she had become. Malevolent, obedient, meticulous, and extremely calculated, she had mastered almost everything she did. Ordering her to learn to cook had probably been one of his best decisions. She would be the perfect hand once he retrieved the sword.
With that sword, he could grant the immortality he desperately sought. Perhaps, if he were in a good mood after acquiring it, he might even use some of its power to reward her. After all, if he was going to kill a king, he’d need a powerful hand to carry out his will. Zeron continued to contemplate this as he finished his food.
“Seraphina, once you clean up, then we’ll be off.” Zeron requested.
Seraphina waved her hand and began to speak in twisted words. “Te Ipsum Purgo.” All the dishes, with their respective table settings, began to clean themselves. Her hands glowed with a red aura, and sigils appeared on the backs of her hands as she slid them down her body. Fabric burned, contorted, and reshaped into a sleek outfit more suited for long-distance walking. It was a tighter-fitting walking suit made of a breathable fabric.
“Master, do you wish for me to change you as well?” asked Seraphina.
“No, I wish to wear this. I’ll be fine. Our journey will take about a day or so from here,” replied Zeron. He wore black, shiny dress shoes with pressed pants. His long-sleeved shirt was perfectly tucked in place under his vest.
Zeron waved his hand in an arcing motion, a shimmer rippled through the air following his wave as if he had thrown a rock into a lake. “There, now anyone other than us who enter shall ultimately perish.”
“This will ultimately poison their blood,” he said with a smile. Zeron did not value trespassers on the grounds of the estate.
He picked up his satchel and made his way out the large wooden door. They set out through the lush front gardens, which stretched as far as the eye could see. Passing the large estate’s cobbled paths, past the decadent fountains with brilliant water features sending water in all directions, they continued. Beautiful hydrangea bushes and abundant dahlia plants in vibrant purple and yellow were artistically arranged. They passed by a maze-like hedge garden filled with roses of every imaginable color.
Zeron paused, taking one last long glance before leaving. A plaque on a large stone in front of the garden read, “May everything here light your path my love.” Zeron always found himself staring too long at this garden, It was his favorite place in the entire world. Freya grew every inch herself. It had been so long since he had gone inside.
Pulling himself back into composure, he reminded himself there was no time to dwell on the past. He would make sure to spend more time there once he returned with Freya. After all there was only the plan now.
“Master, is something the matter?” asked Seraphina.
Zeron snapped out of his daze. “No, I just usually don’t leave our great estate through the front gate often enough, is all. There’s much more color in the front than in the back. Why do you ask? Does something seem wrong?”
Seraphina frowned, confused. “I just noticed you staring at the rose garden. That’s unlike you. Usually, you don’t pay attention to the gardens except when casting the spells to maintain them. Is there something off in the garden that I need to fix?”
“No, child. You know you are forbidden from touching this garden. I alone will care for it. I’ve been on this path long before you joined my service. I used to spend a lot of time in that garden, but alas, I’ve been far too busy these past ten years.” Zeron went silent as they continued their journey, finally reaching the front gate.
Crossing the threshold of the estate, they walked in silence. Seraphina took in the final view of the majestic estate. She would miss the beautiful gardens, the luxurious fountains, and the fields of wildflowers that surrounded the estate. She wasn’t sure how long they would be gone this time—it was always unpredictable. But this time, something felt different. They would be gone for a long time, she could feel it. She chalked it up to her being crazy. Being with Zeron, after all, nothing could go wrong. None were a match for her master.
She loved to kill, dismember, and disembowel anyone her master requested; after all, it was almost second nature to her. But something about this estate made her feel at peace and welcome. It was the one place where she could be herself—casting spell, and learning from her handsome master, the one man who she felt truly understood her. She was so thankful he had saved her.
He was always so fixated on the mission. Even now, they had been walking side by side for nearly forty minutes without so much as a glance. She wanted to help him get the sword, to bring peace to him. Once he had his wishes fulfilled, maybe he could find peace himself. She secretly wanted nothing more than to make him happy. If that meant rolling the bastard king’s head, she very happily would before presenting it on a spike.
They walked for nearly fifteen hours through the thick forest surrounding the estate. The air was foggy and humid, so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The forest was quiet during the day, the animals resting from the heat. The sounds of birds chirping filled the air as they flitted around, looking for food for their newly-hatched young. Waiting and calling from their nests for their parents return.
Charles Cox | Kingdom of Roses Books 