บท 3: Briar Roses
Garnette's newfound determination spurred her forward in the days that followed. She began to spend more time alone, venturing deeper into the dense forests surrounding Raphael's estate. The more time she spent among the trees, the more she felt connected to the wildness within her, the primal energy that had been awakened since her transformation.
One evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, Garnette found herself drawn to a secluded clearing. The air was still, the silence broken only by the distant chirping of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. She stood in the center of the clearing, closing her eyes and letting the sensations wash over her—the scent of earth and pine, the cool touch of the wind against her skin, the hum of life all around her.
Instinctively, Garnette reached out with her mind, focusing on the ground beneath her feet. She could feel the life teeming within the soil, the roots of plants and trees spreading out like a vast network beneath the earth. Her connection to the roses, the same roses that had appeared in the forest before, pulsed within her, a faint but insistent thrum.
Slowly, Garnette knelt and placed her hands on the ground, her fingers sinking into the soft, damp earth. She concentrated, willing the energy within her to flow into the soil. The response was immediate. She felt a surge of power coursing through her, and moments later, she watched as the ground began to shift and stir.
The first thorny tendrils broke the surface, coiling and twisting as they grew. Garnette watched in awe as the briar roses she had conjured bloomed before her eyes, their deep red petals unfurling like drops of blood against the dark green foliage. The thorns were sharp and menacing, but to Garnette, they were beautiful—a reflection of the strength and power she was beginning to understand she possessed.
As she continued to channel her energy into the ground, more roses appeared, spreading out in a wide circle around her. The clearing was soon filled with the heady scent of the blooms, the air thick with the fragrance of roses and the undercurrent of something darker, something more potent.
Garnette marveled at the sight, a sense of satisfaction and pride swelling within her. This power was hers, and hers alone. She had created something out of nothing, something that was both a part of her and a manifestation of her will. It was a heady feeling, one that she knew she would have to learn to control, but for now, she reveled in it.
But as the roses continued to grow and spread, Garnette noticed something strange. The energy she was pouring into the earth didn't seem to be dissipating. Instead, it felt as though the roses were drawing it from her, feeding on her life force in a way that was both exhilarating and unsettling.
She tried to pull back, to sever the connection, but the roses clung to her, their thorns digging into her skin. Garnette felt a sharp pang of fear as she realized that she might have underestimated the power she had unleashed. The roses were not just an extension of her will—they were something more, something alive and hungry.
Desperately, Garnette focused all her concentration on stopping the flow of energy, on reclaiming control over the power she had released. Slowly, painfully, she began to draw the energy back into herself, feeling it as a cold, dark current winding its way through her veins. The roses, once vibrant and full of life, began to wither and die, their petals crumbling to ash as they shriveled under her command.
Garnette collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath as the last of the roses crumbled into dust. She felt drained, her limbs heavy and weak, but there was a sense of triumph as well. She had done it—she had taken control. But the experience had left her shaken, the realization of the dangers her powers posed weighing heavily on her mind.
For a long time, Garnette remained where she was, staring at the remains of the roses scattered around her. The clearing was silent once more, the only evidence of what had transpired the faint smell of ashes and the lingering tingle of power in the air.
When she finally rose to her feet, Garnette knew that she couldn't hide this from Raphael any longer. She needed guidance, needed to understand the full extent of her abilities before they consumed her. But even as she made her way back to the estate, a part of her resisted the idea of sharing everything with Raphael. This power was hers, and she wasn't sure she was ready to relinquish control of it, even to the one who had saved her.
The path back to the chateau was shadowed by the canopy of trees overhead, the twilight deepening into night. As Garnette walked, she could feel the pull of the roses still within her, a dark, seductive whisper at the edge of her consciousness. They were a part of her now, just as much as the thirst for blood and the sharpness of her senses.
When Garnette finally arrived back at the estate, the grand, ancient structure loomed before her, its darkened windows reflecting the last of the fading light. She hesitated at the threshold, her hand resting on the heavy wooden door. The temptation to keep her secret weighed heavily on her, but she knew that doing so might lead her down a path she couldn't return from.
With a deep breath, Garnette pushed the door open and stepped inside, the darkness of the chateau swallowing her whole. She would find Raphael, and she would tell him what had happened—at least, as much as she dared to reveal. The rest, she would keep to herself, at least for now. The power she had tasted was intoxicating, and she wasn't ready to let it go just yet.
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