The Domino Rose

By Take Me New

Chapter One: A Sister's Understanding

All across the land of Lunar, the world was blanketed in a celebration of their safety. From the quiet village of Burg to the bustling port of Meribia, to even the ruins of Vane where people still struggled homeless, their once great city in shambles. No matter their destitution and no matter their pain, for that one day everyone was able to cast aside their worries and throw their hands up in celebration. Even if they had already lost a loved one to the evil that was the Magic Emperor, they would surely lose no more. For with a great explosion that sounded to the heavens and with a blinding light that enveloped the plains and stretched to the Frontier, the Grindery was destroyed and the Magic Emperor eliminated. And it was for that, the people celebrated.

A pilgrimage was being made from the ruins of Vane to Meribia, hundreds of survivors of a city of thousands were slowly walking to their neighboring town. Led by the leader of the magic guild, Lemia, and her daughter, Mia; the people of Vane were going to accept the hospitality or Meribia. On the same day as the Grindery was destroyed the Master Mel decreed that refuge would be granted to all of the survivors of the war whose homes were destroyed by Ghaleon. This included everyone in Vane, who decided to charge themselves with the task of rebuilding later. For the time being they walked, to accept Mel's offer, and to celebrate with him in the large city he ruled so well. As the entourage of magic users marched together; women, children, and men were all wrapped in song. Though they had lost their loved ones, and their homes destroyed, their voices were filled with a strong sense of hope.

And then with the blade of the Gods /

Struck down thou who caused us harm /

The hero of legend and his troupe of friends /

Brought our suffering to an end /

Recovering the goddess loved /

Bringing light from Althena above /

The mechanical horror blown far off /

Brought our suffering to a stop /

Royce could hear the singing from where she stood, and in retaliation she grew a deep frown upon her lips. As if the wind conspired to hurt her already more than she had already been, it seemed to carry their song all the way to her location nearly ten miles away. Hundreds singing in unison, rejoicing in everything that caused Royce pain. Trying hard to push aside the torment she closed her eyes, and quickly turned her back in the direction of the voices, so she could once again begin running.

Her timing had been close, for the area the refuges walked through had been her own path no more than thirty minutes ago. As she resumed her quickly-paced run, she gave a quiet thank to whatever gods may have been looking over her. Had she been spotted by the group of Vane refuges she surely would have been killed, without questions asked and without the comfort of a quick and painless death. She couldn't blame them for hating her so, but it didn't stop her from being relieved they didn't stumble upon her on the plains. They wouldn't care that her task at hand wasn't an aggressive one.

Before long she finally reached the wreckage of the Grindery, sitting in a low valley surrounded by cliffs on almost every side. It was still smoldering, and even from her place on an oversetting plateau the smell was almost more than she could bare. Amongst the rubble she could make a few distinguishing forms laying amongst the shards of evil, such as the corpses of members of the Prairie Tribe, as well as those of her own Vile Tribe. Royce looked down along the slope she would soon descend, and saw a near-perfect line of her own soldiers, laying dead. She sighed, and snuck down the slope to inspect their bodies further. From her best assessment it appeared they died from shrapnel, metal wedged in their backs as they ran from an exploding grindery. With a sad motion she reached down, and gently touched the side of one of the creatures she had seen before, back in the days of her ruling position in the tribe. After stopping momentarily at their corpses she remembered her mission, and quickly began to run down the hill once more, her leather boots padding hard into the dirt as she half ran, half slid down the length of the slope.

She was still dressed in her past attire, which would make the task a bit harder. With no cloth covering half of her body the outfit styled for appearance was nearly worthless, and for all the flesh it exposed she might as well have been naked to carry out her task. Her short skirt offered no protection to her legs, and her waist and arms were exposed to the elements. It would be a hard job digging through the Grindery's rubble, but thanks to her outfit it would also be a painful one. Before long she reached the end of the slope, and began to search for what might have been a good place to start.

She chose an area that smelled of death the least, and quickly began to dig. She used her bare hands, opposed to her magic, for fear of damaging the thing she sought so desperately. If she were to begin flinging shards of metal around with her magical powers, she risked a similar fate of her soldiers above. And so she dug with her hands, as quickly as she could. Through the sharpened metal, through the still-smoldering corpses, through the crystallized chunks of magic, solidified in the explosion.

For hours she dug, never resting, and by the tenth hour she had reached a point where she had tunneled far enough that she risked a collapse of wreckage above her. Like a precision arrow she was delving into the rubble, burrowing a hole like a worm would through an apple. She didn't know precisely where her sister would be, but she knew she'd be at the bottom. The excursion would be tricky, since the act of drilling a hole through the rubble constantly risked it collapsing, and burying her in the filth and gore. To avoid it she constantly raised her hand up to the sky, and gave a command in a strong, loud voice.

"Lucidian Barrier!" Her fingers flashed and white filled the tunnel, a shimmer of bright light coursing along the walls she had dug, reinforcing them and protecting her from a most unpleasant death. She had to recast her incantation roughly once every two hours, and given the size of the job ahead of her, her spell casting ability wouldn't last her very long. She gave a thankful sigh to the fact she was prepared, bringing enough silver lights to last until she had rescued her sister.

Hours more passed, and she was nearing the end of her first day in the tunnel. Sleep tugged hard at her eyelids but she resisted, she couldn't sleep lest the tunnel collapse without her constant recasting. She had dug roughly seventy-five feet into the wreckage, or as best she could guess. The smell was becoming more foul, the bodies near the bottom were in no way nearly as intact as those near the surface. When she looked from left to right, she often saw small waterfalls of blood, seeping past the twisted chunks of metal that were piercing an arm or a torso.

The smell was horrible, literally painful to her sinuses. It made her head ache, and she could swear her nose was bleeding from it's stench, but she continued to endure. Her muscles were sore, having lifted and thrown so much debris. Her arms felt like weights, and her legs walked only with hard stomps upon the ground, but yet she continued to endure. Finally, her skin was torn. Her hands bled with each laceration from metal, and her legs seeped as she inevitably scratched against the walls she was digging. At one point she felt dizzy, from the loss of blood she was feeling; but her task was too important to give up.

Another day was nearly over, and she was nearing her forty-eight hour in the tunnel she had made. She trudged along with a pained pace, moving slower now, her body nearly asleep and her mind already there. Moving on more desire and pain she continued to lift and thrown, to sift through debris and cast aside gore as her barely open eyes scoured for sight of her sister. Only one silver light remained, which she was currently floundering for inside of her satchel. She pressed it up into her chest, and for a moment felt a surge of energy as her spirit was replenished and her magical talent restored. She threw her hand up once again, and in a much weaker voice gave her incantation again.

"L…Lucidian…Barrier…" Her voice was weak but the spell remained strong, coursing along the length of the now-two-hundred foot tunnel, reinforcing it's walls again. Royce coughed hard, and held a hand to her mouth as she did so. She looked down upon her hand, and sighed. It was hard to tell where the blood from her hand began, and the blood from her lungs stopped. With wavering eyes she fell back, collapsing into the wall she had reinforced. Her back pressed hard against the wall, and she slowly slid down to a sitting position. It was the first time she had sat down since she began her run to the wreckage, and her entire body ached with the desire to eternally rest. Even as she sat she felt blood accumulate around her, forming a puddle from the wounds she had that didn't dry up. Weak, Royce let her head drop down, and her eyes begin to slowly close.

"I'm…s..rry…Xe..bia…" Her voice was cracked and sore, her throat drier than she had even imagined it could be. Her heart grew heavy, and as her hand fell down to her side, she was ready to give up.

Quickly her eyes opened, and she looked down to where her hand had dropped. Fingers were wrapped a bit taught around her hand, and she imagined that just another corpse was making it's death motion upon her. With wide eyes, she gawked…and her mouth dropped open, ajar. The hand was thin, and womanly…and the rings that adorned it were those of the Vile Tribe.

Royce tried to laugh, but could only cough. Still, the sentiment was the same. She was happy.

She had found Xenobia.

When Xenobia awaked from what felt like a year long slumber, she did so with just barely being able to pull herself up to a sitting position. Her arms were sore but she managed to steady herself, and press her back into the wall of wherever she was. Her eyes, misty through sleep, began to focus upon her surroundings. She was in what looked to be a truly filthy hovel, more than likely underground, for the walls were rock and dirt and the air was damp and dusty. Slowly craning her neck from side to side, she saw there was little in the room aside from her. A candle near the end of it's wick was burning as brightly as it could, a crate set beside the bed seemed to act as a table, and the bed Xenobia laid upon was crudely made of straw, draped over with a thick cloth for comfort. Sighing, Xenobia looked down along her body, to see if it was in bad of shape as her current environment.

Surprisingly, she looked to be in decent shape. Before the Grindery had exploded she was wise enough to cast a Lucidian Barrier upon herself, a useful spell that Royce had taught her ages ago. The spell seemed to work, as the only noticeable wounds were those more along the lines of imprints, like metal pressed into her for a long period of time. She detected very few cuts, and though her bruises were apartment she still seemed in good shape. She gave a wry smile, and her eyes arched in a knowing egotism.

"Take more than those little fools to destroy me…" Her mind whispered to itself, and her grin grew a bit. Just as it was about to trail to the thought of revenge, Xenobia heard a noise come from the other room. She moved as quickly as she could from her place on the bed, regarding the single entrance to the room with a harsh, defensive glance. Her hands went to fist, and with what little energy she felt she had, she prepared to cast a spell of death. But before she did so, a figure stepped into the room, one she could recognize solely from appearance.

"Royce!" Xenobia smiled, and watched as the figure stepped in the room. She was wearing the robe she had worn in Black Rose Street, when she was pretending to be a fortune teller. It covered her entire frame and kept her face totally hidden in darkness, but Xenobia knew it had to have been her sister. She was carrying with her a tray, with a plate of various breads and meats and a large mug of what might have been cider, judging from the steam that emited from it's rim. The other woman approached the bed, and took great care in setting the tray down upon the makeshift table before turning to the bed.

"Yes, it's me…dear sister." Royce's voice sounded somewhat the same, only weaker. She still revealed nothing of her face, and open further inspection Xenobia noticed she was also wearing thick leather gloves, completely covering her hands. Xenobia smiled, and weakly tried to move so that Royce had a place to sit on her bed.

"Sister…" Was all she spoke, and her smile grew a little bit. "Do you know what this means?"

"…yes." Royce's voice was still weak from behind the robe, but it sounded almost happy. "It means we can-" She was cut off as Xenobia spoke, her eyes flashing bright red.

"It means two of the sisters are still true to the cause!" She grinned a wide, teethy grin. "We can make those elementary children pay! Quickly, now! Royce!" As if she was ready to run into battle, Xenobia placed her hands on either side of the bed and tried hard to lift herself. As she did so her arms gave way, and she fell back into the straw with a thump. Royce slowly shook her head, the hood moving from side to side, accompanied with a mournful sigh. The form of the robed woman sat upon the bed, and she reached out with one of her gloved fingers to grab a bit of meat that laid upon the tray. She held it up to Xenobia's mouth, and watched as her sister slowly took it in to eat.

"You're too weak to do anything right now." Royce whispered. "And besides…the Magic Emperor is dead, the Grindery is destroyed. Everyone in Lunar is united." She waited until she saw Xenobia swallow, and then reached out, her gloved hand finding a place on Xenobia's cheek, cradling it.

"It's over, my sister." Royce stated simply, her voice giving sympathy, but by no means empathy.

"Never!" Xenobia moved to remove her cheek from Royce's hand, and frowned deeply. "It won't be over until myself or they are dead!" Royce responded by picking up another piece of meat, and offering it to her sister. Reluctantly, Xenobia ate.

"You would be dead…" She spoke quietly. "If I didn't go get you. You were barely conscious, before long the suffocation of being in the rubble would have killed you." Xenobia didn't argue the fact, but instead swallowed hard, and glared at her sister with cold, red eyes.

"Don't be weak, Royce." She frowned deeply. "I won't accept that yet another one of my sisters has gone frail." She clenched a fist, tightly…as if she was threatening.

"I'm not going frail." Royce slowly shook her head, and turned away from Xenobia, to look to the sides of the dirt wall. "If I were frail you wouldn't have survived."

"And if you were strong you would have killed them already!" Xenobia nearly shouted, and quickly rose from her place on the bed. Her anger was growing, and helping to correct the weakness in her muscles. "Damn you, Royce! They have to suffer for what they did to Ghaleon! Are you going to help me?" Royce did not answer at first, and for a moment remained silent. After a while she slowly reached out with one hand, and let it fall down upon one of Xenobia's legs. When she finally spoke, her voice was but a whisper, and a weakened one at that. She turned her hooded head towards her sister, her face still masked in darkness.

"I didn't save you…so we could get revenge." Her voice was nearly just a breath. "I saved you, because I-" She was cut off my the stinging sensation, a hand crossing her cheek through the cloth of her hood.

"Weak!" Xenobia nearly spat the words out, and on her hand's return motion crossed Royce's cheek in the other direction. The second time around the sound was loud, and with such force it spun Royce's body to the side, knocking her from her spot on the bed and onto the floor below. Though her robe and hood stayed sentinel, the sound of a whimper could be heard from Royce's form. The sound only angered Xenobia more, and she reached out to where the steaming mug sat upon the tray.

"Crying?" Xenobia shouted, and reared up with the mug. "Begone, Royce! You're far too weak to be of any more use to me!" Royce's weakened noise increased, and she struggled hard to find her standing. Before long she brought herself to her feet, and ran from the room as quickly as she could, leaving only the sound of crying. Xenobia scoffed and looked to her hand, where she still held the steaming mug. She frowned, hard, and then looked back up to where Royce had run.

"Fool…" She bit down hard on her upper lip, and clenched her fist as tight as she could around the mug's hilt. She reached over to place the threatening object back onto the tray where she had received it, but after a bit of floundering with it she found it was hard to find a completely flat surface on which to sit it on. She glared over to the tray, to see what it was that was blocking her from setting the mug down flat, and when her eyes fell upon it she sighed, nearly dropping the mug anyway. Carefully she placed the mug to the side, and then reached her hand out, to grip what it was that had just a moment ago halted her. A long stemmed flower, specifically, a rose mixed with black and white petals. Carefully Xenobia pulled it from the tray and towards her, laying back upon the bed as she did so to abide by the commands of her weakening body. She laid back, and held the flower up within her vision, regarding it with a mix of sadness and joy.

The rare Domino Rose only grew in the Frontier, and since the Frontier was so harsh it was nearly impossible to find anymore. Growing with interlocking black and white petals, it had been regarded as the most beautiful flower amongst the Frontier's limited selection. When they were young, the three sisters had countless hundreds growing near their home, but now they were close to extinct. Sighing, Xenobia reached her free hand up, and her forefinger trailed slowly along the fragile petals. They were weak, and bended slightly underneath her fingertip, gracefully tilting to meet her grasp and giving way to any forceful push given to them. Xenobia continued to watch the flower, her dark red eyes growing misty as she continued.

It was simple to understand what it meant. The meaning of the rose, if only she had the fortune to have looked at it sooner. As she laid back, holding the rose, Xenobia could only feel her anger fade away. Anger at Royce, anger at the Dragonmaster, anger at Lunar, and anger at Althena…as she delicately held a flower she hadn't seen for decades, it all felt as if it was melting. Her fingers grew weak around the stem of the rose and she nearly let it fall from her grasp, but straining her muscles she held it still aloft, watching it, relishing in it.

Her anger had melted, but it had melted into guilt. Guilt for the way she talked to Royce, guilt for…for slapping her. So hard it knocked her from her place on the bed. Suddenly the guilt formed into a courage and Xenobia tried her best to push away from the bed, to stand and run to Royce, to apologize and to tell her that she finally understood. But as she set the rose down and prepared to push away her body she only faltered, her muscles aching and her body crying out in a torment of soreness and pain. The witch frowned deep, and bit hard upon her lip, determination setting in and her desire to amend building up again from within. Again she tried, bracing her hands upon the mattress and her feet upon the floor, and again she pushed up, this time correlating her motions with every bit of strength she had. Halfway up she felt as if she would fall once more, but she resisted, and with all the strength she could manage to herself she pushed herself full to her feet, leaning heavily on the wall that led towards the door.

Slowly, she began to make the way to where Royce had ran.

The younger witch was sitting in a room no larger than the last, and even less luxurious. Another crate was used as a table in a central room full of dirt, and the only chair was a thick wad of cloth that Royce was sitting on cross-legged. Her hood was pulled back but still her face concealed, as her head was down to the crate, in her arms as she sobbed to herself. Nothing else was in the room except for the crate, the cloth, and Royce…and Xenobia, as she finally rounded the door from the bedroom where she treated her sister so harshly.

With effort, she was beginning to walk again with some assurance, and with careful movements she began the walk to Royce. It was difficult with no guiding wall but she persevered, and somehow managed to make it to within distance of Royce without falling or making a great deal of noise. Xenobia stood behind Royce, holding the flower she had been given, cradling it with both hands.

"Royce…" Xenobia's voice was softer, gentler, barely able to be heard above Royce's now-prolific sobbing.

"Where did you get this, sister?" Xenobia leaned down, and set the rose upon the crate, almost regrettably letting it go unprotected. Royce lifted her head up, and looked to where the rose sat on the crate, her face still turned away from Xenobia.

"A…a man in the Frontier…sold it…" She sniffled, and let her head drop down again. "It's special…it'll n-never wilt…and it d-doesn't need water." Her crying was dwindling, but she was still worked and excited. Her voice was skipping and her throat sounded clenched, like a young child who was trying hard not to sob for the embarrassment it would cause. Xenobia reached up, and absently played with a bit of her long, blonde hair.

"Amazing…" She whispered. "What did you pay for it, sister?" Talking about the rose's payment may ease Royce into a more comfortable place, Xenobia thought to herself, and she was full intent on listening to the story of the rose, and how it came to be her own. Royce sniffled a little more, and spoke through the cloth of her sleeves, her head still down in her arms.

"My…essence." Was the reply, and to this Xenobia nearly fell from the shock.

"Y…Your magic power?" She bit down, hard on her lip. "R-Royce! You couldn't have really given up your ability to use magic!"

"I did." Royce's voice was again muffled by the sound of cloth. "After I rescued you…seemed like you'd be asleep for a while. I made s-sure you were okay, and then I went to g-get the rose." She paused for a second, and laboriously coughed from the crying and the sadness.

"He had a gem I could infuse my magic too." She finished her brief story, and sighed into her sleeves. "I'm normal now, sister. Like a regular human." Finally, since their reuniting, Royce slowly turned around to show Xenobia her face. Her hood was pulled back, and though her face was pocked with the streaks of tears and numerous cuts from the previous dig, it was obvious what she had been hiding. The blue lightning bolt under her eye, the one that she had been so proud of, was gone. Royce looked up at Xenobia with pale red eyes, tears along their lining, her beautiful face marred by countless scrapes. On each cheek there was a large red welt, and for those in particular Xenobia felt guilt. With nothing else to do, Xenobia dropped to her knees, and reached out to hold onto Royce's shoulders. The other girl did not resist, but her head fell down to glance at the dirt, sadly.

"I'm weak, sister." Royce's voice was no longer tampered by crying, but was still weak. "I let my heart…give away my strength."

"But…why…?" Xenobia sadly turned her head to the side, and reached one of her hands forward. Her thumb gently nestled along the side of Royce's neck, and then trailed up with the palm in tow. Before long she had cradled Royce's cheek with her hand, her thumb lighting brushing back and forth under her eye where the lightning bolt used to lay. Royce closed her eyes, and for a moment seemed to revel in the touch of Xenobia's hand, holding her instead of hitting her.

"Why would you do that, Royce?" Xenobia whispered again. "Give all that you have…just for a flower for me?"

"It wasn't all that I have." Royce shook her head, very gently so as to not remove her cheek from Xenobia's palm. "By no means. I have this…my home. And I have…" Her words trailed off, and she did not finish her sentence. Xenobia blinked, and then leaned closer to her sister, so that she could hear a silent whisper. The blonde let her own eyes close before she spoke.

"And you have me." Her voice was weak now, but her point remained clear. She understood the meaning…the meaning for the rose. Gently the hands on Royce's cheek and shoulder drew out and around, slipping down her back and pulling her close. Before long the two women were drawn into a hug, Royce's arms grasping at Xenobia's waist and the latter around the former's neck. Xenobia pressed her face down into Royce's shoulder, her own tears starting to form, the first she had cried since she was a child.

"I'm so sorry I hit you, dear sister…" She bit down upon her lip. "Sorry I called you weak…sorry I…" She paused.

"Sorry I didn't realize…before I acted the way I did…"

Royce stayed quiet for a while, her eyes closed as she held onto her sister.

"Do you understand, now?" She whispered, finally. "Why revenge isn't important?"

"…yes." Xenobia answered, weakly. "…I…understand…"

To be continued.

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