Guided by a row of lights hovering 15 feet above the ground, Rose soon made her way to a familiar gate. Its heavy iron bars of the closed gate caught the faint glimmer of the magical light in the stillness of the new night. At least the night shift guards weren’t as insufferable as the daytime ones. This lot, mostly fresh recruits, were just starting off, forced to work nights as punishment for signing up with the guard.
The guards barely glanced at her as she approached, their postures slouched with boredom. Passing through this checkpoint was always uneventful especially because she was leaving the district. Still there were procedures to be followed. She showed her tag, and the nearest guard waved her over, tapping the same door she used before. It opened and the guard inside led her though without any problem. Something that should happen every time.
The guard opened the door, letting her thought
Beyond it the city transformed. There were no lights here, the twisting, narrow streets shrouded in darkness. Shadows clung to every corner, their shapes shifting dangerously. Rose fumbled in her pack, pulling out a travel lantern she bought when she thought she was rich.
It was a cheap, practical thing—an oil lantern designed for function, not beauty. It suited her needs perfectly. Magic lights might have been around the same price, perhaps a little more, but here, in this part of town, they’d only draw attention she didn’t want.
Turning back to the guard at the gate, who was preparing to shut it, she raised the lantern slightly. “Do you have a match?” she asked, her voice weary but firm.
The guard paused, clicking his tongue. He was annoyed but they both knew he had nothing better to do. So, he fell back inside for a moment, pulling some straw from the padding of one of the chairs, then lit it by poking the torch inside. He returned to her and lit her lantern with the makeshift flame.
Rose nodded “Thanks.” she said as the warm light from the lantern flickering softly between them. Chasing away the shadows of the night.
The guard shrugged, his voice rough as he said, “Good luck,” before swinging the gate shut with a heavy clang.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she turned and walked away. “Good luck?” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. “Good luck... good luck... no luck. No luck at all.” The words spilled out like a chant, growing quieter as her steps carried her deeper into the dark streets.
Her fingers tightened around the lantern’s handle as her thoughts churned. Luck? she thought bitterly, the flickering light casting restless shadows around her, there form twisting in her own turmoil. “That’s the one thing I’ve never had here, can't have here.”
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She pressed forward, the modest glow of her lantern barely pushing back the darkness. Somehow, despite its simplicity, it provided more light than it should—though that wasn’t saying much.
Her thoughts churned, the weight of her day pressing heavier with every stride. “The only luck I’ve had,” she muttered aloud, “was stealing from a dead old woman.” A bitter snort escaped her lips. “And even that didn't help. Just delayed it, just delayed it all.”
The sound of her own hollow laugh echoed in the empty streets as she moved deeper into the shadows of the city. “That's what I do isn't it, just delay it all. Delay what’s coming. Good luck!” she repeated mockingly, her voice rising into a sing-song tone. “I don’t need luck. Luck doesn’t need me. She will be gone soon, so soon, so soon.” She giggled, a sound too high-pitched, too sharp, before dissolving into muttered nonsense.
“How long is it going to take the prince to issue that decree, huh?” she asked no one, her words tumbling out in a frantic rush. “Soon? Soon,” she hissed, then burst into a quiet, deranged laugh. “The prince is four—so soon. So soon. The prince is one more!” Her voice pitched into a strange sing-song rhythm, its melody known only to her. “The only thing this is, is his mother. Her hair—her hair!—like no other. So soon, so soon… and soon the duke will save the day.”
Her laughter twisted into a choked sob, the world was spinning out of control. The shadows dancing to the beat of her twisted song. Tears blurred her vision, and she stopped walking, pressing her palm hard into her face as if to wipe away the bitter ache clawing at her chest.
“It’s almost done,” she told herself through gritted teeth, her voice trembling. “Just a little longer. She’ll be out of my hair, just a little longer.” The thought should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. She shook her head, scoffing at her own naive optimism. “Hell, I don’t even have to come home.” she laughed again, walking once more. “I could just sleep in that damn library. Isn’t that something?” She let out a hollow laugh. “Stay in the library, no rent to pay, forget about everything. Gone in a day, the noble manager won't know anything still, he won't even notice if all the books went missing.”
Frustration bubbled over, and Rose gripped her hair tightly, yanking at the strands as if she could pull the madness from her head. Her breath hitched as she inhaled sharply, the cold air biting at her lungs. “Almost,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “We got this, Rose. You and me, we got this.”
She forced herself to exhale slowly, releasing the tension knotted in her shoulders. The world was dancing around her and she knew she was on the verge of exhaustion, she needed to get home. After a few more steps, she repeated the breath, grounding herself with the simple act of breathing. Her eyes closed to keep the nausea from rising.
Then she fell forward, catching herself with her hand as it fell on a wall, keeping her upright. With another long dragged out breath, she opened her eyes. Blinking, she realized she was standing in front of her door. Somehow, despite everything, she’d made it home.
Strengthening up she wobbled unsteadily but was doing alright. She was home. Just a few more steps to go. Taking the lantern in both hands, she twisted the knob at its base, cutting off the oxygen and extinguishing the flame. The sudden darkness was jarring, leaving her momentarily blind as she fumbled for the door handle.
When she finally pulled it open, the soft, flickering light of candles greeted her, casting a warm, uneven glow across the small space. At the table sat Dahlia, her small frame slumped forward as she slept, clearly lost the battle to stay awake. The sight of her waiting sparked a flare of irritation in Rose. she scratched the side of her head as the ache pulsated, “this damned child.”