The Kingdom of Aster has always been welcome to anyone. The fair King and Queen have always left the gates open to anyone who may need a home, as long as they are to earn it. But the open gates meant anyone was welcome, which sometimes lead to trouble.
One night, along the peaceful village streets stood a witch. Not a soul saw her face but many felt her presence, so strong that she even appeared in their dreams chanting an unrecognisable tongue.
The following morning, the townsfolk gossiped about the peculiar feelings they’d had the night before, and once they realised these feelings were not exclusive to themselves, they looked to the only person who could help.
A young male witch who’d lived within the Kingdom long before anyone else. Inside his new shop of trinkets he stood as a peasant walked in, asking for his help,
“Please, young wizard,” the peasant began. But the witch stopped him, “I am far from a Wizard, old friend,” he said, turning to grab a large staff from the wall behind him, “but I will help you,” he said.
Stepping outside of his New Shop of Trinkets, he faced the crowd of puzzled and afraid townspeople,
“Do not be afraid, my friends,” he began, “I can assure you, whatever it was you felt this past night was merely a shared dream,” he said, keeping the truth to himself.
As the crowd accepted that perhaps this feeling was just a peculiar coincidence and went on with their day. But the young witch did not return to his shop, knowing what they felt was far from a coincidence. He spent the day searching for the source, finding exactly where this witch stood. He studied the area, feeling what was left of the magic she had used, so different from anything he’d ever felt. For one of the first times in a long time, he was slightly afraid.
By the time the sun had set, the young witch had traced but one of many spells the witch had cast that night. Inside the stump of a tree, he found an unfamiliar marking carved perfectly into the tree. The mark was unfamiliar to him. Once using his magic to decipher it’s power, he discovered it’s true intention. Anyone who would sit on this tree stump would miraculously turn to wood. He used all of his power to reverse this spell, finding it to be an almost impossible task.
Despite his magic not being strong enough to tarnish the spells power, his sheer will and determination allowed him to completely destroy the spell.
Upon the spells destruction, he was finally able to read what the marking had meant so clearly. It was an ancient marking, belonging to a being known only by one name,
‘Rose’
The young witch retuned to his Shop of Trinkets, placing his staff against the wall. He sketched the symbol he had seen into his notebook. He stared at it, wondering if perhaps he could harness this power to understand it more. Perhaps even discover whoever this ‘Rose’ was, to understand her, and perhaps even bargain with her.
But of course, the young witch was not experienced enough to go a night without sleep. He found himself in bed, closing his eyes as he slowly drifted off into the land of dreams.
But that spell was not the only one. All over the kingdom, far and wide, The Mark of Rose had been planted on objects, heirlooms, walls and vines. Anything and everything. And it was only a matter of time before someone was to stumble upon an odd marking, only for it to completely change their life…