Such is the wayward worth, brought until its timely lot,

reaching out with raging thorns until nothing is evermore.

The thorns, the thorns, stretching high in the sky,

stopping all and even time with raining petals of crimson flow.

            A weapon of which that takes human form

A destined hero ever sought

may bring light or darkness to whomever it may wield.

A rose that stands tall in the light, the one who wishes to protect all they love.

Even with death knocking at their door,

they will fight with all their might until nothing is evermore.

Emma opened her eyes, waking slightly from a drowsy sleep as a beautiful woman ran a hand gently through the young girl’s red hair, she faintly heard rain hitting against the windows in the room where she and an older boy she was close to shared. Yet the boy didn’t seem to wake. “What’s that song you’re singing?”

The woman paused to look down at the little girl with a warm smile. “It’s more of a legend rather than a song, my dear,” she said.

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“You mean like that story you tell me whenever you’re here?”

“The Rose Princess, yes. I suppose it’s connected to the story, perhaps even directly so. Do you want me to tell you the story again?”

“Does the ending always have to be the same?” Emma asked as the woman ran a gentle hand through her hair again.

“The ending never changes Emma; it’ll remain as it is until a certain person appears to change it for themselves.”

Emma frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You will one day, but for now do you want me to tell you the story again?”

The little girl was quiet for a moment, her sky-blue eyes looked at the ring that she wore on a chain around her neck. The ring itself had a rose crest designed into the metal, with dark red stones like that of blood. It was something she had since birth that would protect her, or at least that’s what the woman told her when they first met long ago.

“You can if you want, you don’t have to tell me the story every time you visit me.”

“But doesn’t the story help you sleep and keep the nightmares away?”

“It does…” she mumbled under her breath.

“Then why don’t you want me to tell you?”

“Because…” Emma sat up and looked at the beautiful woman with dark wavy crimson hair. “Whenever you tell me the story you always seem to have this sad look as if… as if you were the Princess in the story.”

“Emma,” the woman pulled Emma into a tight embrace and hugged her close. “Oh Emma, my dear sweet child. Yes, you are right, I am sad. I’m sad because I too know what the Princess is going through. It’s scary but there’s no choice for me.”

Emma felt confused; she couldn’t grasp what the woman was saying.

“However,” she held up the ring that was around Emma’s neck on a gold chain. “Perhaps one day you can save me and the Princess from that miserable fate…”

ACT ONE:

A Different World