In the flicker of a flame,

The burning rose has made her cry,

Snuffed out by howling winds and sin,

Her heart is where the embers fly,

Seeded, kissed, and blessed once more,  

The centrepiece can never fall,  

Where embers spark life anew,

A burning rose will heed her call.

Another life, another blight.

It is a rose that burns so bright.

Not all roses are equal. Not all are soft, beautiful and strong. Some are weak, broken, wilting. Some are too young, some too old and some too precious, but one thing is certain: all of them will die.

A legion of magical girls, known as Roses defend humanity against its darkest threats. Sworn to The Order of the Burning Rose, all but one complete their oath within five years. Their deaths sparking the next ‘cycle’. For a rose, knowing that you will meet your fate on the battlefield is the only absolute truth.

Every magical girl Keira saw walk through the doors of the Order would burn up, or die trying. She would watch them blossom from wild, naive aspirants to full-fledged knights of the Burning Rose and it had made her grow cold over the last twelve years. It had given her a second absolute truth: that everyone close to her, will soon leave her. Her only mercy was to tell them the truth.

‘Train harder, faster, longer, and maybe your mantle will be worth passing when the fire comes to reclaim you.’ Keira’s words sliced through the air. Cold as steel, she looked through the girls surrounding her as though they had already left. Shells for the ghosts they were going to become.

Anúm, a woman with sun-kissed brown skin and silk-like tresses, writhed in the dirt. Her usual luscious locks were dulled by matted knots. Anúm’s nails scraped across the gravel and grit of the training ground, the blood continued to pulsate through the tips of her fingers, coagulating at the nail beds. ‘I don’t— I don’t want to die’, she croaked, the tears had flooded her cheeks as she crawled forward. ‘Please, teach me.’

Keira’s gaze fell on Anúm. Anúm pledged to be reborn in the fire later than others, she still lacked the survival instincts needed to fight. She had not made the flame her life, and if it chose her, Keira doubted she would survive. The Burning Rose would only pick the strongest girls in the next cycle.

‘Does it hurt, Anúm?’

‘It hurts… Please, my leg— My leg.’

Keira waited for the crying and spluttering to end. When it did, their eyes met. For Anúm, there was no sympathy in Keira’s eyes, no desire to help, no sign that she would. Only the chilling gaze of the woman known as the Ice Rose was left. The corner of Anúm’s eyes stung, the tightness in her chest and throat had become dizzying. Every inhale ripped the air from her lungs.

The other girls watched with bated breath, unsure whether intervening would earn them Keira’s ire.

That merciless, impatient Keira.

With her weapon raised, the Ice Rose leapt into the air and swung down on the centre of the training fields, sending a thunderous tremor through the foundation. The girls braced themselves for the cascading rocks to fall in on them, coughing through the cloud of dust obscuring their view but when the dust settled, Anúm’s leg had been set free.

Mangled. Bent in an unnatural fashion, bruised in its darkest shade of black and blue, but free.

‘I cannot teach you how to survive, Anúm. But know, it is not enough to want it'. Her voice was calm and steady as if she had not been the one to pummelled the young woman into the ground. She raised her voice once more, this time for the other aspirants to hear her. ‘If you are weak, the fire of the rose will not take you. If you have doubts, the flame cannot guide you. If you are afraid, shaken, hesitant. The fire will consume you.’

The air remained still. The faces of the aspirants were a mixture of fear, anger and awe as they watched Keira retrieve her weapon from the crater formed in the ground. Her steps, like all Roses, were light and graceful, but Keira was known for her weapon. Where most Roses would reveal a swift blade, she wielded a colossal sledgehammer like a whip of destruction; terrifying in both strength and speed.

‘Wanting will not save you. It will not return lives, or beat back forces of darkness. It is just a feeling, and feelings will do nothing for you when you have to answer the call’.

With her arm outstretched, she recalled her weapon, forcing it to shed its brilliant lustre and morph back into her discreet amethyst ring. Anúm still clutched to the ground, but she was no longer Keira’s concern. This cycle of aspirants was too weak and the threats they faced only grew stronger.

‘I can train you, but I cannot make you the next bearer of the flame. If that time comes, pray that your own flame is brighter. That is the only way to live as a burning rose’, she finished, her speech rousing not even a whisper from the would-be Knights. She had not intended to inspire them, or rouse them. She only wanted to give them a sliver of honesty. Now that she had, she was ready to leave. No one else moved.

When she crossed the threshold of the stone archways, the quiet patter of footsteps built up behind her in the direction of Anúm. Small voices of consolation hushed and cooed, drowning out the little whimpers. Keira braced herself for the discussion she would have to have later with the council. She sighed, it was no longer a headache, but it had become repetitive. She could argue what point is an aspirant, who is afraid of mortals in a world of true darkness. Yes, that was a decent argument, she thought.

‘You know what they call you, don’t you?’ a voice said, unfurling itself from the shadows and stepping in front of her.

Keira stepped aside and continued walking.

‘You’re here early, Ntonni’.

‘I always am. Somebody needs to document the damages you make’, Ntonni jested, tucking a pen back onto his breast pocket and following in her footsteps. ‘You don’t make it easy for me. I already heard all the usuals this week: “the perennial witch”, “the blue ice rose”, “quick death”, “Miss Smash—”.’

Keira lowered her gaze to meet the suited cleric’s.

‘That one, isn’t as popular,’ he winced.

‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add weird things to my reputation.’

‘Let me hold the hammer one time and—.’ He cleared his throat, averting his gaze from her own glowing ones. ‘You don’t have to look at me like that.'

She looked away.

And you don’t have to talk so much, she wanted to say.

Instead, she said: ‘You are not like the other clerics’.

Ntonni shuddered. A look of pure disgust spread across his sable-toned face. ‘Is that what you’d prefer? That I was as uptight as those lily-livered jellyfish? You know they always send me because they can’t— Well, they find it hard to talk to you.’

Keira raised a brow. ‘Jellyfish?’

‘Just promise me you don’t actually prefer those spineless crones!’

The two of them paused outside the chamber doors. ‘Preference is for people who have choices,’ she noted. Ntonni tried to smile, looked up at the overbearing, gilded doors and then stood beside her.

‘Let’s at least pretend.’

The cleric readied himself, sliding his hand through the air in quick perpendicular motions until they heard the sudden drop of a bolt. They braced themselves, and the doors to the chamber opened up to the grand hall.

Inside, two masculine ushers dressed in matching cream and white attire bowed upon Keira’s entrance. ‘May the Rose burn bright’, they chanted.  

‘May the Rose burn bright’, she replied, nodding as she entered.

The war room, ostentatiously large as it was, held one long table seating several masked figures on either end. All but one stood to attention as Keira’s heels clacked across the marble floor. In the centre, a seated figure waited on a gilded chair. His face was framed by wispy grey hairs and sharp narrow eyes that drew one in. Reaching the centre of the table, she bowed facing the head figure and the sprawled out strategy map. ‘May the Rose burn bright’, the figures echoed.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

‘Chancellor Bishop.’

‘General.’

‘I shall begin with the morning reports—.’

He interrupted her with a wave of his hand. ‘No need.’ Keira’s eyes flicked upwards to meet his own. The Chancellor’s nonchalance infuriated her more than Ntonni’s. ‘I called you here for a different matter.’

A subtle furrow formed between Keira’s brows. ‘A different matter?’ She cut a Ntonni a glance only to receive a shrug on his side. They both had assumed she was going to be berated for her training methods, or her consistent head-butting with officials, or her unwillingness to attend events with other officers. Frankly, there was no shortage of complaints. ‘What is the issue?’

The chancellor scoffed. His raspy voice had aged with time. ‘Why must you assume there is an issue? Come now, General. I don’t only bring you bad news, do I?’ He asked.

Keira’s expression did not shift. Rather, she was even more concerned at his demeanour. If she was the ice steel that others feared, then the Chancellor was the force that wielded terror. His smile was most honest in the midst of the battlefield.

He took her silence for an answer and shrugged. ‘We’ve had a rapid increase of dark activity in the village of Verec. Roses from the 48th and 49th division were sent out to intercept, but we have not been successful. I’m in need of a solution.’

‘Those are Dia’s and Mire’s divisions. Where is the report?’

‘There were casualties. The report we have is insufficient.’

‘How many casualties?’  

‘All of them.’

A pit formed in Keira’s stomach.

‘Every Rose we have sent has not come back.’

Like the strike of a match, something burst within Keira and then went cold. ‘Why was I not informed earlier?’ Her voice became a spark in the room, separate from her unmoving expression. ‘You sent near half our active forces without a change of plans. Did you expect me to come here and sign off a waste of resources? Chancellor, this is a suicide mission!’

‘Keira…’ Ntonni’s voice trailed off lightly behind her. The edge of the desk she gripped had now singed. She composed herself and in her fortitude remembered something that made her heart sink again. The 48th division. She knew it would happen one day, but she could not bear to think how Ntonni felt. She could not even look at him.

‘Chancellor. If you called me here to bring forward the lighting of the 50th Division, you do not have my blessing.’

‘I did not call you here for your blessing.’

‘With all due respect, Chancellor Bishop, the next division of Roses are not ready.’

‘Then you make them ready, General.’

Keira clenched her jaw. Was he being difficult now that others were watching? Would he end the lives of Roses just for the sake of his ego?

‘Chancellor, you know just as well that I do not force the will the Burning Rose. If we push the lighting forward, we could risk losing all of those in training. There are other Roses ready, the—’

‘The 47th and 46th divisions are scarce. Who would be left to defend our borders? I will not weaken our defences for one village, General. But do you suggest I wait for the threat to grow?’

‘No. I suggest you call me when you are meant to, Chancellor’.

‘Ke— General. You may want to reign in the tone of your insubordination.’

‘I will not be sending aspirants to a potential threat that wiped out half of our active knights. So, I suggest you remember who the commanding general of these Roses are. These women are under my command—.’

‘And you—.’

‘And I set the example here.’ She stood firm. ‘How soon can I be deployed to Verec?’

‘General.’

‘You had no problem issuing commands for inexperienced aspirants, why not your most experienced Knight? Send me, Chancellor.’

The Chancellor held his tongue, he knew Keira rivalled his stubbornness. He had made her that way. ‘I want a full handover of duties before you leave. Your responsibilities here are not minor.’

‘Yes, Chancellor’, Keira bowed.

‘The rest of you, clear the room.’ She snapped her head back up. The other government officials who had been content watching them bite each other’s heads off, let out rising murmurs of surprise and disagreement.

‘With all due respect Chancellor, all communication mus—.’

‘Leave.’

‘Chancellor, you cannot—.’

‘Now.’

His voice rattled the room. Quick gazes flicked between Keira and the Chancellor, followed by the scraping of chairs and disgruntled muttering. Ntonni bowed, leaving last with the ushers who closed the door behind them. The room echoed into silence.

The Chancellor rose from his seat, his hands placed tentatively on the table between them.

‘Keira. Think about what you are saying.’

‘I thought. I’m doing.’

‘Keira.’

‘You know my duty, Chancellor. A burning rose must always heed her call, there is no other narrative for me to follow. I will not run from it so others can fall in my place.’

‘You choose to have one duty, Keira.’

She scoffed. His audacity never did fail to surprise her.

The silk robes hung loosely as he pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘In all the years you have followed my orders, why is it now you choose to be so… so—’

‘Please, do not say stubborn.’

‘Unforgiving.’ He sighed. ‘I understand you want to resolve this but to go alone? This is not your penance, Keira. You do not solve your emotions by running head-first.’

‘It’s the most reasonable solution—’.

‘It is not reasonable, at all.’ He chided. Then, softened his voice once more to the one he used when it was just them. ‘I have always— If I wallowed in every decision I regretted I couldn’t lead this country, this army, I—.’ He cut himself short. ‘Do not let me live with the decision of losing you.’

‘You won’t. I will hand over my duties to Commander August. Ntonni will record it, nothing will be lost. I will leave for Verec, and I will return.’ She paused. ‘Be kind to Ntonni until then.’

There was a slight quirk in his brow, Keira’s fondness of him was usually well hidden. ‘I won’t ask if you knew,’ she continued, ‘but don’t make things harder for him while I’m gone. You know how they treat him.’ She met his cold, pale eyes when he didn’t answer. She now wondered if the mentioning of the 48th division was intentional.

‘They would treat him worse if I favoured him.’

‘Not by the time I’m back. Now, if we’re done breaking rules. Let’s move on.’

The Chancellor returned to his seat, once again uninterested. ‘The rules you break are always so boring’.

She sighed. ‘You know better than I that any sign of nepotism causes disruption amongst the officials. They already think you have too much power, do you expect them to wait in line if they think the Roses are in your pocket too?’

‘They’re used to it, but what disruption did you cause?’

Keira cut him a look telling him to mind his own business.

The Chancellor smiled, ‘I’m glad you're ruffling your feathers a little. You have all the weight of my name behind you. I know it’s not easy, it was a burden for me too.’

She didn’t comment. ‘I’m sure the officials are incredibly anxious by now. I’ll send for you before I leave.’ She took in a deep breath, turning out her palm expectantly. ‘The report, Chancellor’. 

The Chancellor Bishop sighed, waving his hand over the desk and revealing the concealed compartment. He flicked through a bundle of papers, settling on a group bound by black string. He pulled his hand back when Keira reached for it. ‘No more impulsive decisions, Keira’.

She hesitated, her fingers lingering over the bloodstained pages, before clutching them. Her eyes scanned the first page before she positioned herself for a respectful bow.

Quick on her heels, she swivelled around, ready to leave the hall. Each step towards the opening doors echoed in the chamber, as she held back the faint idea of tears.

"There are no known survivors from the Verec resolve."

On the other side, Ntonni paced back and forth in anticipation. Standing to attention the moment he heard the thud of the heavy bolt. Keira didn’t say anything when she saw him. She didn’t know what she could say. The edges around Ntonni’s eyes were tinted a reddish pink. His under-eye glistened slightly in the crevices, and then he smiled.

Before anything could happen between the two of them, government officials rushed towards Keira, demanding to be let through. Keira, who stood a fair bit taller than many of them, parted the crowd and allowed the ushers to take control of the situation.

When the crowd dissipated and the hallway had settled down, Ntonni had stayed where he stood. His lips parted, trembling to speak, until he said: ‘What time do you leave?’

‘As soon as possible, preferably before nightfall.’

‘You’ll go alone?’

‘I’m not risking more casualties than necessary.’ She paused. Ntonni nodded thoughtfully, as though going alone to a battlefield made perfect sense. ‘I need to speak to August before I leave. Can I ask you to be there?’

‘Of course.’ He gave her a reassuring bow, but when he rose, Keira had already closed the distance between them.

‘Ntonni.’

He averted his gaze. ‘It’s best we leave as soon as possible.’ He turned to leave, not waiting for her confirmation. He was only a few paces in front of her, but the wall he had placed between them seemed so much more.

She wanted to say “I’m sorry”, but those words sounded so insincere in her mind as they crossed through the marble hallways. How could she apologise for the actions of a man who paraded as their father? A man she had quickly realised was incapable of all forms of love. Love to him was stealth and warfare. Love was diplomacy, foreign policy and strategic alliances that tucked you into bed. Love was order and she was—

‘Keira?’

The soft voice took her by surprise. August’s surprise slipped into a smile made brighter by the sunlight creeping in behind her. ‘Are you finally taking a break?’

In a moment, Keira’s thoughts were replaced once again with duty. She smoothed over her doubt's smile. 'No, I'm here for work.'