Chapter Four: The Goblet & The Visitor
Immortal Rose's Journal
Entry 4: Full moon
Returning to my chambers, I was relieved to find that all was nearly as I had left it when I had ventured out into the gardens. The goblet remained where it had stood upon my desk, nearly glowing with an ominous green light. I could have very well believed this to be the very light given off by the ferryman's lantern when he sailed the shores of the river Styx if there had not been a lit candle standing nearly. I shall therefore choose that explanation above any other that may exist, though I have my doubts even now. I am not certain if it was these lingering fears, involuntary action on my own part, or if some unseen power did indeed emit from the cup, however I took the utmost care in giving the object a wide margin of space as I continued to put ink to parchment. A few borrowed texts from the library sat upon my desk as well and offered much aid in detailing a past and present comparison of the land and the areas affected by the rose's death. It would seem that no aspect had been spared by the curse's wrath save for that very small garden. The crimson moon above shines upon an otherwise veritable wasteland. Any trees visible are dead masses of branches and roots. They search desperately for water yet if any is found, it is undrinkable; the color and consistency of the blood that still remains in that accursed goblet. It makes me very curious indeed, especially since I have had no trouble acquiring what appears to be very clean, clear water for my tea...
Perhaps I should think twice before fixing a second cup.
Continuing my research, I then focused my attention on the blood in the ancient goblet. What I find is unlike normal blood taken from a medical standpoint. Then again, I must constantly remind myself that I am no longer within a normal realm. What is unusual to me here may very well be accepted as fact to others who reside in this place.
The blood was as though freshly spilled. Liquid in it's consistency and a ruddy, bright color. Normally the platelets in the blood would have begun the process of coagulation and have hardened when exposed to air, forming a protective shell or scab. This goblet of blood has stood at my desk since my visit to that horrible crystal room and within that dreadful pool for who knows how much longer than that, yet still it has not dried up in the slightest. Not even a hint of gelatinous substance or clotting! This leads me to wonder if the platelets have been altogether removed, or if some strange genetic make up resides within the blood's plasma.
Hmm... perhaps all dead blood behaves in this manner. I would very well inquire to my lord of this, yet I highly doubt that he would willingly produce his own blood for a proper comparison. No, he may well take mine for such a foolish request. I shall pause here to allow my fears to pass, and to steady my hand from it's trembling.
Perhaps not quite a pause. There is a fluttering sound near my window, and a squeaking visitor requesting my attention.
The strange night only grows longer and far stranger with every passing moment of time. The fluttering sounds I had heard from outside of my window proved to belong to a small bat attempting to perch itself upon the stony sill. It squeaked loudly with each failed endeavor, having difficulties in balancing upon the precarious ledge. My opening of the window latch startled the poor creature whom lost what little balance it had gained and fell back on the floor of my chambers. I attempted to console the pitiful ball of fur, yet my close presence only served to frighten it further until it saw fit to find solace perched upon a skull that I had been using as a makeshift bookend in a far corner of the room. It remains there even now, watching my writing with a wide-eyed curiosity. It is a strange little bat, grey in it's coloring in place of the usual brown or black that is more commonly seen. Little tufts of fur upon it's head could very well suffice for a styling of hair, however the oddity of the being is more unusual that even these. There is a strange marking beneath the left eye of the creature, the shape of a diamond with small swirling patterns tapering off to the sides. I have yet to see such a symbol naturally occurring in the bats of the wild which leads me to question whether or not the animal is tame. If so, where might the owner reside? Seeing however that an attempt to move or further approach the bat would be a wasted effort, I shall leave it be as a welcome guest for the present and return to my studies. This may prove difficult in itself, however.... My constant interruptions are waxing heavily on my mind, and I cannot hold sleep off much longer. Perhaps if I rest my eyes for only a moment...
- Immortal Rose
Rest now, dear child,
And let this night creep.
Rest now, sweet child,
Succumb now to sleep.
Let dreams take you far,
Never to awake.
For now, foolish child,
Your soul I shall take...
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