The Cursed Born

Epilogue

Epilogue 

"We must do something about, ya know, her'' the meeting of people murmured and whispered. You could feel the emotions coming out of the people in the room. Scared. Nervous. Fearful. When people are fearful, it spreads, like a plague, a pack of hyenas, weeds in a yard, and no matter how many time you pull it out, more seeds fall, and it regrows. The young man who just spoke had young eyes, that haven't seen the world, haven't seen the horrors, literally. They were vermillion with sparks of gold. Just got there because he's an easy pawn, not much behind those eyes, really. Pretty much sure he's only there because he blabber-mouths these "Confidential meetings." Like a leaky roof you keep forgetting to fix. The real meeting happen behind his eyes but, if you want information leaked, he's your guy. Everyone calls him "Chatter Box, but his name in document is Malcae Formulait

"Do you hear yourselves! This is ridiculous!" scowled an elder with clear white eyes, "You can't be this dumb!" She would've preferred if Chatter Box wasn't here, some had pulled some string just to get him here, to annoy her. Even as her torns stretch far and wide, there is a gardener, slowly cutting away her torns. She knows this, how little has here power gone that she must now have her decisions questioned in front of her very own court! "Torns" knew the garden she made is not only being cut, but poisoned, poisoned by weed and seeds, the invasive kind. 

"Even if a child we must, cautious, we cannot know what will come out of this- this- cursed born." Chatter box spoke as if he was getting cursed by even mentioning her. Torns scoffed at this.

"Oh please, like what came out of the last one. Real nice Chatter Box"

"Then you explain to me how she's not dangerous, she has all the signs of one, just trust me, she is CURSED!"

"Because they are myths." she stops to sigh, "Look, do you even hear yourself, a blind girl, that has powers of seeing and communicating with ghosts and spirits. Really, is this what this court has come to" she says with a growl "and even if she did have powers like that. You wanna know what those kind-of powers sound like! A necromancer! Do you really want that on our hands, the heir to the Floret Clan is a NECROMANCER! The chaos that would in-spew!" the elder Torn screamed.

Many of the people sitting at the long old Mongolian table all murmured. No one really agrees or wants to see the logic to it. Like the Amon Flower, you may think it has torns within the bud of the flower, but yet you don't dare to touch it. Yet we pick roses all the time.

Torn, sitting at the back of her desk, back to the tall thorn-laced window. Tall and proud, was getting old, and blind. Maybe it was really time to bed out the old Flowering quince, for her branches wise but old, stuck in the past.

"This meeting is adjourned!", the old lady sighed. Carefully getting her old bones up, and rubbing her fingers between her eyes. Before anyone could properly leave or speak up, a yell went through the halls.

"A NEW HEIR IS BORN, A NEW HEIR IS BORN!"

The people of the manner erupted in cheer. O' it is to have an heir. Everyone joyest to have a new heir. Not born with a curse, disability, or whatever the first born was born with. Born with mighty, powerful thorns and branches, a rose, much like his father. O' how they cheered, as if they just forgot, who's fate they were discussing first upon this day. The first born, the forgotten born, The Cursed Born.