The Crown of Thorns and Roses

The Last Da

, clinging to the air like a shroud. Elara, a whirlwind of brown braids and dirt-smudged knees, sought refuge behind the ancient oak, its gnarled roots a familiar comfort. Beside her, Lyra, h

g Theron loomed over them, his demands for their ancestral land growing more insistent, his greed a palpable fo

hispered, her voice barely audible. She traced patterns i

g the turmoil within the manor. "He's worried, Elara. Mother too. I he

girls' heads snapped up. From their hiding spot, they witnessed the approach of a dust cloud on the horizon, rapidly growing larger, acco

merged from the manor, their faces etched with a desperate fear the girls had never witnessed. Lord Valerius, usually commanding, seemed to shr

t resolute, cut through the rising chaos. "To the

a hulking figure with a scarred face and obsidian eyes, dismounted with a cruel smile. "Lord Valerius," he sneered, his voice a gra

e rarely used for battle, and stood before his family, a solitary figure against an encroaching ti

voice cracking with despair, even as she

a, however, grabbed her hand, her small fingers surprisingly strong. "We

y. They saw their father, a valiant, desperate warrior, fight with the strength of a lion protecting his cubs, but he was outnumbered, overwhelmed. They saw their mother, a fierce angel, strike down

ara's mouth, muffling her sobs, even as her own body shook with silent anguish. They watched as the manor, their home, was ransacked, then set ablaze, the flames licking hungrily

Elara. They clung to each other, two small figures in a world suddenly devoid of light and love, their shared trauma binding them irrevocably. The image of their parents falling, the smoke curling against the