Chapter 18: A Rose at Rest

The temple grounds carried the lingering chill of the rain, though the sun had begun its slow descent, casting a soft amber glow over the horizon. The scent of damp earth and incense drifted through the open windows, blending with the crisp mountain air.

Inside the chamber, Rosellene sat upright with difficulty, her body still weak, as Millie carefully draped a thick cloak over her shoulders, ensuring that layers of warmth shielded her from the cold.

Elizabeth and Celestine, seated nearby, had been quietly discussing their departure. Though they had initially planned to leave together, Rosellene's fragile condition made it impossible for her to leave anytime soon.

"We should delay our return," Elizabeth said, glancing at Celestine. "At least until Rosellene is well enough to travel properly."

Celestine, however, sighed, looking genuinely troubled. "I wish I could stay, but my family has already sent word twice. I have to return to Caldermere soon." She turned toward Rosellene, her eyes filled with regret. "I don't feel right leaving you like this."

Rosellene managed a faint smile, though an edge of exhaustion was behind it. "It's alright. You don't have to stay for my sake, Celestine."

Celestine frowned. "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"I'll just stay for a few more days." Rosellene nodded. "The Temple is a place of healing, after all."

Celestine still seemed reluctant, but she knew there was little she could do. With one last glance at Elizabeth, she sighed. "Then at least make sure she doesn't wander around pretending to be fine when she isn't."

"I know, I know," Elizabeth waved her off. "You've told me at least three times."

"And I'll say it again," Celestine muttered, looking directly at Rosellene. "Don't push yourself unnecessarily."

Rosellene let out a soft chuckle. "Noted."

Celestine stood, adjusting her cloak as she prepared to depart. Before leaving, she reached out, giving Rosellene's hand a small squeeze.

"Rest well," she said firmly. "I'll come visit as soon as I can."

The room grew quieter as her footsteps faded beyond the hall.

Elizabeth watched her leave before turning back to Rosellene with a pointed look.

"You should get inside quickly," she instructed, gently guiding her toward the bed. "It's getting colder, and standing around like this isn't doing you any favors."

Rosellene allowed herself to be led inside, sighing softly as she sank into the bed. Thick layers of fresh blankets were carefully arranged over her, cocooning her in warmth.

As the evening deepened, the glow of the luminous night pearl filled the chamber with its soft silver light, casting delicate shadows across the polished wooden floors and tapestries that adorn the walls.

Millie entered the room with a lacquered wooden tray, a porcelain cup, filled with dark brown liquid, shimmering under the light, nestled at its center.

The pungent aroma, alone was enough to make Elizabeth grimace as Millie set the tray down.

Elizabeth's nose wrinkled, her disgust poorly concealed. "What in the world is that?"

"Medicine," Millie answered, setting the cup in front of Rosellene. "It will help reduce the fever and strengthen her body."

Elizabeth eyed the liquid with thinly veiled horror. "And you sure it won't kill her instead?"

Millie gave her a patient smile. "Yes, my lady."

Rosellene chuckled weakly. "Why do you look more horrified than I do?"

Elizabeth scoffed. "I've had temple medicine before, and I still have nightmares about it."

Rosellene lifted the cup, bracing herself for the taste.

It was awful.

Bitter, thick, and deeply earthy, like chewing on damp bark mixed with dried herbs soaked in aged vinegar. The acrid aftertaste clung stubbornly to her tongue, making her throat constrict.

She swallowed it in one go, holding her breath, resisting the urge to cough.

Elizabeth stared in shock. "You actually drank it?"

Rosellene set the cup down carefully, slightly strained. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I thought you'd at least throw a dramatic fit," Elizabeth admitted. "That's what I would've done."

Millie quickly handed Rosellene a small cup of honey-infused water, which she gratefully accepted, taking a small sip to wash away the lingering taste.

As Rosellene settled back into the warmth of her blankets, her gaze flickered toward Elise, who had been standing nearby.

"Elise," she murmured.

Elise immediately stepped forward. "Yes, my lady?"

"Elena braved the rain last night to fetch the physician. She should take some medicine as well."

Elise nodded without hesitation. "I'll prepare something for her immediately. Thank you, my lady."

Rosellene closed her eyes briefly, allowing herself to relax. She didn't want her maid to fall ill simply because of her misfortune.

The chamber fell into a peaceful silence, interrupted only by the occasional rustling of fabric as Elizabeth shifted in her seat and the soft sound of a book closing.

Rosellene turned her head slightly and saw Elizabeth sitting beside her, struggling to keep her eyes open. A thick book lay open in her lap, but she hadn't turned a page in a while.

Rosellene smiled faintly. "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth blinked rapidly, straightening. "Hmm?"

"Go to bed."

Elizabeth frowned, attempting to mask her exhaustion. "I'm not that tired."

Rosellene raised an eyebrow. "Then why were you nodding off like a sleepy kitten?"

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes. "Are you calling me a cat?"

"If the comparison fits…"

Elizabeth scoffed, but her eyelids drooped again.

Rosellene reached out and gently closed the book resting in Elizabeth's lap. "You should rest. Margaret is waiting for you."

Elizabeth hesitated, then sighed in defeat. "Fine. But if you feel worse, send for me immediately."

"I will."

Elizabeth stood, smoothing out her dress as Margaret stepped forward to support her. She cast one last glance toward Rosellene.

"Sleep well."

Rosellene watched her leave, the warmth of their conversation lingering even as the room fell into silence.

She sank deeper into her pillows, her body still weary, but her heart felt lighter than it had in days.

The storm had passed, and the night was calm.

But something in the air still felt heavy—as if fate itself was waiting for its next move.

The warmth of the room was a gentle lullaby, lulling her deeper into slumber. Cocooned in soft blankets, Rosellene's breathing grew slow, steady. Her eyelashes trembled against her pale cheeks, her body melting into the comfort of the bed.

Her eyes fluttered shut.

And then—darkness.

---

The suffocating stillness settled over her.

A sharp metallic scent clung to her skin, the weight of it pressing down on her chest, heavy and unshakable. Her hands felt damp.

Drip.

Drip.

Blood.

Her breath hitched.

The space around her twisted and blurred, a shifting mass of shadows. Figures loomed in the haze, voices rising and falling, but they were warped and distorted like distant echoes carried by the wind.

But amid the chaos, one thing was terrifyingly clear.

A woman lay before her, lifeless.

Her long hair, tangled and matted, sprawled across the cold stone floor. Her once vibrant skin was drained of all color, ghostly pale, her lips slightly parted as if caught in a final whisper.

A thin, red line traced her throat.

Slashed open.

A single stroke of a blade had stolen her last breath.

Her eyes were wide open, vacant, and frozen in terror.

Even in death, they refused to close.

Rosellene felt her chest tighten. She wanted to step back and run away but her body remained locked in place.

No.

This isn't real.

This can't be real!

She shook her head frantically, her pulse pounding against her skull. "No… this is just a dream."

But the air was too cold and the scent of blood was too strong. 

The darkness around her began to shift, creeping closer.

A whisper low and insidious, slithered into her mind.

[You hesitate. Why?]

[You already know how this ends.]

It curled around her, silken and knowing.

[They will betray you again. They always do.]

[Why not silence them first?]

The whisper brushed against her ears, louder and twisting into something sickly sweet, like poison disguised as honey.

[Take the blade.]

[Take control.]

[Let them be the ones who fall this time.]

Rosellene's breath came in sharp gasps.

The temptation...the rage, the fear, and the agony coiled around her like shackles, pulling her under.

The voices were inside her, wrapping around her mind like a vice.

There was nowhere to run.

The darkness was swallowing her whole.

---

A sharp gasp tore from her lips.

Rosellene's eyes flew open.

The familiar chamber came into focus, the gentle flicker of the lamp, the quiet hum of the wind beyond the window.

It was just a dream.

Her heart pounded violently against her ribs and the cold sweat clung to her skin.

She tried to swallow hard, trying to shake off the lingering dread.

But the unease remained, curling at the edges of her consciousness, refusing to fade.

Though Rosellene might not be aware at the moment, that is how the Fallen Spirits work.

They whisper.

They tempt.

And when the time is right–they devour.