Chapter 2
'That's her, isn't it?'
'Huh? Oh. The orphan?'
'Yeah. Heard that she was taken to the Castle the night Lord Lucien vanished. Her and another girl.'
'Must've been a sister. Heard that 'ole Derek took her in because of that. Maybe that's why she looks like that?'
'Maybe.'
Gossips. They never knew when to shut up, or when to mind their own business. To them, a woman wandering down the street aimlessly was a reason to talk about their past. To them, it never mattered if the woman wore a dress or a guard uniform. If she carried a vase in hand, or walked with a sword strapped to her back. She was always going to be the target of their gossip. Be they old people who had been young adults when she lived here, or young adults her own age, who had been children. Children who had bullied her and...and...
Sucking in a deep, steadying, breath...Rose forced those thoughts away. She ignored the way she had stumbled, and placed a hand against her heart. Against the faded scar, hidden beneath her thin Guard uniform.
Sparrow...
Pushing herself away from the wall she had fallen against, Rose continued walking. Her hand fell from her heart, and to her side. It lingered upon the faded wood, resting on her hip. Blue eyes looked down at it, a forlorn smile crossing her pale lips. The toy gun looked incongruous on her hip, when she had a rifle slung over her back. It was all she had left. It and the faded piece of pink fabric, stained brown, tied on the hilt of her longsword.
All she had left of her beloved sister.
"Oi, Rose! You doing alright, today?"
With tired eyes, the Guard looked up. Her smile didn't change, when she looked into worried grey eyes. "I'm...as well as I can be, if I'm being honest."
"Figured as much. Come on in, darling, and I'll get you some of those flowers you like so much."
The voice belonged to a portly old woman who ran a small shop, near where...near where that trader had set up. She had basically taken Rose in, when Derek had saved her that night. Saved what was left of her, anyway.
At any rate, Rose owed this woman a lot. Mary was a gentle soul who looked past her worse days. Days when Rose didn't even want to get out of bed or eat. Days when she wished, even if she never dared say it, that Derek had let her die with her little Sparrow. Those were the worst. No day was really good. Rose had broken, that night, and never quite been put back together properly. Her heart was dead, even if her body kept on moving. She'd given everything for her sister, and lost everything with her.
It never stopped hurting.
"You're visiting her again, aren't you, darling?" Mary's voice echoed through the little shop, while she bustled around gathering flowers.
Rose's smile finally fell, replaced by a grimace. A grimace that barely even scratched the surface of the pain she felt. "It...yes. Today was her birthday, y'know? I didn't know much else, but I always kept that in mind."
"I know what you mean. I always kept old Bertie's birthday in mind, even when he died." Mary came back into view, gingerly holding a vase of lilies. "Here you are, Rose. Say a prayer for me, will you? I may not have been able to help you when you were children, but I want your sister to know you're well-taken care of."
"I...I'll keep that in mind. Thank you, Mary. For everything."
The old woman just smiled, and gently placed a hand on Rose's shoulder. "You don't need to thank me for anything, Rose. Just keep on living. I, well, I know what you're planning. You're going to leave soon and try to find Lord Lucien."
"You're-" Rose opened her mouth, already preparing a denial. A denial even she didn't feel.
"Don't even try lying to me, darling." Mary shook her head, her smile turning melancholic. "It didn't work when Bertie went after those Hobbes, it won't work now. Promise me you'll be careful and won't waste your life, that's all I can ask." Her hand squeezed Rose's shoulder once more, before the old woman pulled back. Her hand wiped at her wet eyes, as she nodded at the door. "I won't tell you what to do, or to forget. Only that you need to live."
I haven't lived in a very, very long time.
Unable to voice those words, Rose merely nodded and took the vase of flowers. With a final, fragile, smile at her caregiver...the Guard stepped back out onto the streets. Her head bowed, eyes refusing to meet those of anyone else. She had only one purpose, at this moment. To return to where it had all begun.
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"Hello, Little Sparrow. I-I'm sorry I'm late, again."
Rose stood in a secluded alleyway, far away from anyone else. Far away from any houses, save for the two on either side. The flowers that she had planted, each and every year, lined a dirt path towards...towards...
Home.
Even now, ten long years since she had used it, Rose had never had a place that felt more like it. Mary was kind and her house was nice. Derek did good by her, even if he was getting older every day. Castle Fairfax, to her childish mind, had seemed like the perfect place to live. For all of that, Rose would give it all up in an instant. She would go back to freezing and sharing a bedroll, under a patched and falling apart shelter. It had been Home. Not because of comfort. Not because it was a good place to live. Whomever had said 'home is where the heart is' knew what they were saying.
Rose had never felt home after she lost her sister.
And so, as she gently placed the vase of lilies on the ground, Rose slumped to her knees beside it. Her hands shakily reached to her back, pulling her longsword free as well. Her eyes lingered on the barest flash of silver metal, when she pulled it free. Lancer. A blade with an ancient Silver Augment that Derek had pulled out of the armory. A weapon fit for a Hero.
A Hero.
I'm no Hero. Lucien was wrong. I couldn't even fight. Sparrow...little Sparrow was the fighter. It should have been her who survived.
Hand drifting away from the silver, Rose reached up and gently pulled the stained pink ribbon from the hilt. Her hands lovingly clasped it to her chest, as she looked upon the plain gravestone before her.
'Little Sparrow. The best sister in the world. Taken from us too soon.'
Sobs wracked Rose's body, her knees giving out from underneath her. She slumped completely forward, her head coming down to rest against the gravestone. Beneath her, lay her sister. Beneath her, lay all her hopes and dreams.
"It should have been me. It should have been me." Choking out her words, Rose clenched her fists in the moist ground beside her. It was all she had left, in the end. All she ever had.
All she could ever see.
"Little Sparrow...it was my job to protect you. I couldn't even do that." Rose's broken voice barely rose above a whisper. Her eyes had long since shut, tears leaking from the corners. "I couldn't save you and you had to protect me. I-I-I-"
I'm the big sister. It was my job to protect you. Not the other way around!
Unable to even put words together, Rose curled up into a ball, sword and flowers forgotten. She sobbed like she was still a child, and perhaps, she was. A child who had lost something precious and could never get it back.
Dear light, she couldn't even hear Sparrow's voice anymore!
She couldn't see her sister's smiling face. Nothing but accusing, dead, blue eyes.
I love you, sis. I love you more than anything.
I can't keep going on like this. Not forever.
I just want to see you again. I'd give anything to see you, one more time.
In the end, Rose had no idea how long she lay there. Rain began to fall upon her, and she didn't notice. The distant sound of crowds faded. Even her sobs trailed off, into weak little gurgles. Her body ached and her throat was worn raw. At some point, she had pulled the toy pistol from her side, and placed it to her lips. She lay a soft kiss upon the worn wood, imagining, for a second...that it was Sparrow's forehead she was resting her lips upon. Running a hand through her sister's hair, smiling when she protested how gross that was.
She never even heard the footsteps approaching. Not until a woman sat beside her, placing a hand upon her shoulder.
"You must be in such pain, Rose."
Eyes snapped open.
YOU!
Rose slapped the hand away, Sparrow's little pistol slipped into a pocket. Her hand pulled Lancer from its sheath with a ring, pointing the tip of the silver blade at the woman staring up at her. Rose hadn't even realized she was on her feet, nor how her entire body quaked with rage. Her sword shook and vibrated, unable to keep the point focused on the heart of the woman. Red cloak. Face hidden.
"I cannot say I don't deserve your anger," the woman was utterly nonplussed. She stood up herself, reaching her hands down to dust off her dress. Clasping those hands together over her stomach, she turned her hidden face upon Rose. "However, I am not your enemy. I am merely here to help you."
"Help me?" Rose's voice and words were incredulous. It was only through strength of will- and a burning need for answers -that she hadn't run the woman through. "You tried to help me before, y'know. All it did was kill me."
"And yet, here you stand, alive and well."
The tip of Lancer edged forward, and Rose's voice dropped. She growled her next words, filled with a vehemence that was completely unfitting for her sister's grave. "You very well know what I mean. I died in that castle, when that bastard shot my little Sparrow. I don't care if my body is still alive."
"Ah, death of the spirit." The woman still seemed to not notice, nor care, how close Rose was to murdering her at that moment. If anything, she seemed fascinated. "I'm afraid even that is a lie. You will not let yourself stop, until Lucien Fairfax lays dead before you. Am I wrong?"
The hell of it was, she wasn't wrong. Rose wanted to kill her, she did, but it wouldn't make her feel any better. In the end, this woman had not shot Sparrow. This woman hadn't pulled the trigger. Lucien goddamn Fairfax had done that. Rose had kept herself going entirely on the need to gut that man. To make him feel even an inch of what she had felt, for the last ten years.
No longer was the gentle sister alive. She had died in the castle that dark night. All that was left was a woman, consumed with the need for revenge. A husk moving forward on that one desire, and nothing else.
Sparrow...
"Why are you here, then?" Rose never once moved Lancer, even when she knew she wouldn't kill the woman.
A small smile answered her words. Moving a single hand from her stomach, the woman pushed Lancer's blade away. She stared directly into Rose's eyes, despite her own gaze being impossible to see. "That is the crux of the matter, is it not? I have come here, as I know a way for you to achieve your revenge. Lucien has been constructing something, as I'm sure you've seen."
"That tower?"
Rose had seen it. The black, obsidian, structure growing out to sea. Everyone in Bowerstone saw it. Everyone knew that something strange was happening, though none of them quite understood what it was. Rumors ranged from the absurd, like the Heroe's Guild rebuilding, to some monster growing out of the sea.
It was Lucien?
"Indeed. What you are seeing is known as the Tattered Spire," the woman continued, her voice grinding upon Rose's ears. As if she were stabbing her with each syllable. "It was constructed by the last Archon of the Old Kingdom. A powerful artifact, that when complete, can grant any one wish."
"A wish." Rose let Lancer fall, her eyes widening. Blue, ice cold, and staring at the woman like she had grown a second head. This again? "You expect me to believe that bollocks, again? You said that the music box would grant my wish." Clenching her hands, Rose stabbed her sword into the ground. "It got my sister killed!"
A dark chuckle echoed from beneath the hood. The woman moved to point out at the distant Spire, visible even from where they stood. "The Tattered Spire is not some trinket, Rose. It is perhaps the most powerful artifact ever seen in Albion. Even more powerful than the Sword of Aeons itself. You will find that, should Lucien complete it, the Spire will grant his wish."
Lucien didn't deserve something like that. Rose would say that no one deserved that. She had gotten a wish, and look where it landed her. If she had ignored this woman's words back then, she and Sparrow would still be living like they always had. Maybe Mary would have taken them in, if they found her? No matter what else happened, even if she had died, Sparrow would have survived. Rose would have given up her very life to keep her sister alive. What good was a wish?
And yet, part of her wanted to see Lucien complete the Spire. To see him prepare to make a wish.
Only for her rifle to shoot him in the stomach, just like he had shot Sparrow.
"You want me to stop him, don't you?" Rose was far from a fool. She pulled Lancer free from the ground, placing the sword back in its scabbard. The woman hadn't moved from her spot, pointing at the Spire.
A nod answered her question, "Indeed. You see, Rose, you are part of an ancient bloodline. A Hero, the only Hero, that can stop Lucien's plans. I had hoped to train you myself, to prepare you for this day. However, I believe your time with the Guards to be sufficient. We merely need to..." Here, she paused. Her voice dropping even lower, were it possible. "...unlock your Will. Come, there is a place you must see."
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The Heroes' Guild. Rose would never have believed she would ever find it. More than a few of the stories that she...that she had told her sister, revolved around it. The great Heroes of old, who had fought for the people of Albion. Men like the Hero of Oakvale and women like Whisper or Scarlet Robe. Rose had never, not once, thought she would stand in the center of it. She was just a little orphan girl, like Sparrow. Why would it be any different?
This doesn't seem right.
Rose couldn't believe, even now, that she was truly a Hero. That the Hero of Oakvale was her ancestor. Yet, here she stood. She stood before a circle of light, descending from the ceiling. The woman, Theresa's, voice echoing in her head.
'Step into the light, Rose, and unlock your true potential. Become a Hero and you will be able to defeat Lucien, as you have always wished'.
Despite whatever trepidation she may have felt, Rose couldn't resist that. The power to finally end her nightmare, once and for all. She couldn't possibly say no to that, could she?
So, she stepped forward. The moment she entered the light, her entire body quaked with raw power in her veins. She could feel it. As if fire were running through her body, scorching her nerves and burning her from the inside out. She screamed, her eyes glowing with an unearthly blue light. Lines carved into her skin, glowing the same deep, majestic blue. Rose couldn't see, she couldn't hear, she could only feel.
As suddenly as it came, it went, however.
Falling to her knees, the Hero took in deep, shaky breaths. Her hands clenched in the fabric of her long skirt, pulling at it tightly. She still felt phantom pain. Her heart, the scar resting over it, felt as if she had been shot again. Her veins pulsed with a foreign energy that she had no idea what to do with. It took every inch of effort in her, just to lift her head and stare at the 'Cullis Gate' at the end of the Chamber.
'Good, you have unlocked your Will. To activate the Cullis Gate and leave the chamber, you must use a spell to restore it.' Theresa's voice echoed in her ear, once again. The Guild Seal burned against her. 'To do so, merely focus your spirit. I believe you will find a fireball a simple task to produce.'
Rose stumbled to her feet, looking down at her hands. She...she didn't feel like that was the answer. Fire was wrong. Fire was uncontrolled, raw, and good. She wasn't good. She had broken promises and let her sister die. Nothing mattered to her, but her mission and her duty. She was focused on nothing else. Fire was...wrong.
Sucking in a deep, slow, breath...Rose raised her hand. Blue light crackled to life along her fingertips. Electricity. With a flick of her wrist, the newly minted Hero fired a bolt of purest lightning at the Cullis Gate, the ancient device responding to her energy. It sprang to life, as Rose lowered her hand.
Lightning. Hah. Sparrow...I haven't forgotten. I'll do anything to avenge you. Nothing will stop me, you know that, right?
If Rose could have seen Theresa's face, she would have understood. Lightning. The focused energy of a Will user who had one goal in mind, and would not be budged from it. Very few were the Heroes of old, whom had learned it before the simple fire.
Rose was going to leave her mark on Albion, like it or not.