Pink Roses
Introduction
"So, you want to hear a story."
The woman who spoke very nearly materialized from inky shadows, appearing into the flickering candlelight as stars might appear in an evening sky.
She raised an eyebrow.
"They all do," she continued, "few would take such trouble to find their way here were it not for this desire. We are said to be the masters of wisdom and forgotten parables, are we not?"
Whomever else she spoke of was nowhere to be seen. She was alone, alone in the stone hall whose ceiling disappeared into blackness above, making it impossible to tell the true height of the chamber. The only light came from hundreds of tall candles resting on elaborate wrought-iron stands, further cluttering a floor already strewn with pillows and throw rugs of rich velvet and silk, dyed thick shades of blue, amber, wine red, and forest green. Shelves stuffed with old books, glass vials, and gemstone charms lined the walls, while in the room's corners stood dozens of ancient, beautifully crafted weapons.
In the center of the room a polished ebony table stood majestically, complimented by a matching high-backed chair. More candles rested on its surface alongside eight colored, crystal spheres arranged symmetrically and meticulously in the center of the table.
The woman took her seat. Resting her elbows on the table and knitting her fingers together, she propped her chin on the back of her hands and stared absently at the colored orbs. Closer to the light, the flickering candles revealed long, solid black hair and glowing green eyes set into a narrow, delicate face of pale, brown, skin. Two miniature wings—yes wings—of leather sprouted from her head, just behind her ears. She stretched them lazily, folding and unfolding them in a thoughtful languor.
She wore the robes of a priestess—though of what god or goddess it wasn't known; the decor of her chamber gave no indication. She also held the aura of a sorceress, but that was ridiculous; magic had long passed from this land.
"I will tell a story," she said at length.
She raised her eyes. "But it is not an easy story. The hero and heroines might very well be despised in their own rights. However," she continued, "am I correct in assuming my audience is not the shallow type?"
She lowered her eyes again and smirked.
"All right then, enough nonsense." Abruptly she stood. Every candle save those on the table in front of her was instantly snuffed, and the scent of smoke and incense filled the darkened air. "I am the mistress of mysteries." The wings on her head twitched, and she retook her seat. "Listen closely, for this is my tale as well as any fool traveler's."
With dark words, she began.
* * *
"Vector was a haunting city. As cold as a winter in the mines of Narshe, it held the mysticism and terror of a fairyland in a child's tale. Even in the conquered cities of the Southern Continent the citizens told their children of the dread capitol with the air of a ghost story—as if the real flesh-and-blood soldiers who now occupied their hometowns had stepped up from another world entirely and not from the city at the center of their continent.
"And if this is how they whispered of the common soldiers who held them captive, dare we even speak of their commanders? Aged Emperor Gestahl skulked like a shadow in a tower, hidden behind cold, steel palace walls, the unseen hand of his oppression holding half the world in its inexorable grip. Satanic Kefka, Gestahl's chief advisor, his shrill laugh echoing the alleyways of all Vector and some said further—terror enough in itself to still the boldest heart. General Celes, whom some claimed was really a fabled Ice Nymph of Narshe, so cold and pure and terrible she was. General Razi, with eyes like green fire and hair like red wine, brandishing her sword of crystal. Lilith, they called her, succubus, temptress, serpent. And last, General Leo, the beautiful boy who should never have been a soldier, but a scholar, or priest, and whose emerald eyes seemed those of a ghost. While the maidens looked in longing as he passed them by the wise men would bow their heads in resign; here was one not long destined for this world…"