E.N. Ferril
Changes and Consequences
It was almost moonrise by the time Kieran had climbed the last of the stone steps that led to his tower. He unlocked the door and slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him. He had cleaned it up as best he could from his last encounter and now the room was sparsely furnished, more suited to a monk’s lifestyle. Three bookshelves lined the far wall filled with various tomes and a writing desk sat under the only window, moonlight trickling in between the pulled back curtains.
A small round table, its top made of marble, stood in the center of the room upon a thick rug. A cage crafted of fine crystal that sat in its center and within it rested the rose suspended by its magic. Three fallen petals lay scattered beneath it.
Kieran stood gazing at his sister for several silent minutes. As he watched another petal shivered and fell from the bud to land beside its brethren. An answering ripple of pain echoed through Kieran as the petal landed on the cold marble.
“I’ve come to set you free,” he stated with as much confidence as he could muster. He ignored the faint tremor in his voice and the pain that still pulsed through his limbs.
He carefully removed the cage and set it to the side and continued to talk to the flower. “I promise you, Thyra, I’ll make things right,” Kieran’s eyes glittered with rage. “And once you and the twins are human again I will hunt Cirs down and kill him for what he’s done to you and our family.”
He warded the door with a gesture then set about casting a circle to encompass the table on which the rose resided and himself. By the time Kieran heard the faint tolling of the village church bells that rang the hour of midnight he was panting from his efforts. Pain sluiced through him again, a bitter reminder that he was already pushing his limits.
He ignored it and called on his magic.
Sweat broke out along his skin as the Power awoke and encircled him, wrapping him in a pale red-gold aura. It then snaked out to touch the circle, igniting the symbols that lay etched into the four cardinal directions. The last toll of the village bell echoed within the chamber and as its haunting note faded into the night Kieran began to chant.
The magic answered and rushed to fill the room, setting it ablaze with colors. Pain flared again along his injuries, and again was ignored. He would not stop now. The spell slowly began to take effect, condensing into a swirling multi-colored mist that danced around the rose melding with its own silvery aura. The rose slowly began to shift, first in color, its petals becoming stained with crimson along their edges, and then in shape as the stem and leaves began to twist and grow. Kieran quickly
withdrew a small dagger from his belt and slashed his hand. Squeezing it into a fist he forced the drops of blood out to complete the spell.
The sanguine drops hissed like acid as they touched the cold surface of the marble. And then something went horribly wrong. The colors swirling around the rose turned black, shot with silver and midnight blue. Kieran choked on the final words as a searing pain shot through him and doubled him over. A roaring sound filled his ears and with it a building pressure in his chest.
There came a cracking sensation then and he couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from his throat. With his concentration shattered the magic turned upon its master. A hellish wind knocked Kieran off his feet and tossed him like a broken doll against the wall. His head struck stone and stars exploded across his vision. The last thing he heard before everything went black was what sounded like mocking laughter.
*******************
It was still dark when Kieran finally came to. Everything hurt.
Groaning he managed to push himself to a sitting position but almost passed out again as the room spun dangerously. He waited for things to settle and tried to recall what had happened.
He forced his eyes open, his heart in his throat for fear of what he would find.
The chamber lay ruined. Books lay strewn across the room, papers were everywhere and the circle had been scorched into the floor. There seemed to be a hazy film over everything...
Kieran blinked several times and the room snapped into sudden sharp relief. A thousand different sensations assaulted his senses all at once. He swore as he heard a mouse, its tiny claws scratching the stone steps at the bottom of the staircase of the tower while the musty smell of the books mingled with the acrid stench of the burnt floor almost made him gag. Then he saw the rose.
‘Thyra!’
Where the white rose had once rested was now encased in a crystalline sheen, its white and crimson stained petals glittering beneath the shiny coating. The silver shimmer still surrounded it and held it suspended above the overturned table. His own discomfort forgotten he hoisted himself to his feet determined to ensure the rose had not been damaged further. It was then he noticed the nature of his hand that rested against the wall.
Short claws adorned the tip of each finger and his skin had become as pale as winter snow. He frowned. Another oddity to file away for later examination along with the sensory issues. He shook his head and carefully picked his way through the debris and over to the table. Kieran then caught his reflection in the glassy surface of the rose’s petals and froze.
A beast stared back at him.