The Weight of a Petal

The wind rushing through her remaining petals was the best thing that Cynthia had felt in ages. 

Most of her memory was robbed and replaced with isolation in a dark tower, the looks of goblin wizards and evil generals salivating at the possibilities she held, and the slow steps toward death that came when one of her many petals were torn off to be used in experiments. 

In the back of her mind, she could remember thousands upon thousands of flowers just like her. Within the throng, she was with her family. Altogether, they swayed in song, with the wind elevating their flower chorus into a symphony. 

Yet she knew she was better off forgetting it all. Forgetting the massacre that took place as each of her rare kin got trampled under foot. Most of all, she longed to forget the feeling of being the last of her kind. 

Yet none of that mattered now. The only thing she held in her mind was the sound of the horse’s galloping and the gallant knight who had come to rescue her from the tower. 

He had been clad in full armor that seemed worse for wear and was rusting in places. The sword he carried seemed too big for his stature, but the dead ogre sentries posted at her door proved that he could wield it. She followed him outside without a word, eager to be free of this dreadful existence. 

When they snuck out, they took their time weaving between pitched tents and buildings. Some instances, Cynthia thought that all manners of creatures around would sniff out and catch them. Miraculously though, they made it out of the walled city and rendezvoused with a horse called Peach. 

Cynthia’s spirits began to soar. They had made it and Cynthia allowed herself a smile. Once they had ridden off for a few minutes into the arid wasteland, she looked back at the ugly tower - its bricks painted dark and a garish red - and released all her the ill will and anger she bore. 

“Thunder take you, stupid tower, and everyone else in and around it!” 

As if in vengeful reply to her taunt, bells began sounding amidst the whole camp. Their escape had been found, and the brief ecstasy of freedom came crashing down when the army of goblins, kobolds, treants, and other species that Cynthia dare not, came riding towards them. 

She knew that they were out for blood, his blood, and they would stop at nothing to bring her back. She wished with all her heart that the hooves underfoot would run faster, and that no harm would come to them. Arrows flitted overhead, threatening to put to rest her hope of safety. 

Sensing the worst, Cynthia sought comfort from her savior. 

“Can we outrun them, sir knight?”

The knight looked at the horde at their backs and gave a curt nod. “We have to, milady.” The slow moving treants had stopped in their tracks and were breaking off long branches. 

“Where are we going?” 

“To our camp milady. You are the very last of your kind and we are in dire need of something to tu-”

At that moment, a large branch came hurtling from the air and impaled through the knight’s shoulder. They all came tumbling to the ground in a heap. 

The knight’s helmet tumbled off to show a young boy who had barely seen two dozen summers. His hair, the color of autumn leaves, was spread out across his face, but a dozen small scars were evident in various places. He lay immobile as Cynthia scrambled onto her roots. 

“Sir knight! Please get up!” 

Behind them, the horde approached at a dreadful pace. In mere minutes, they would be on them. Flashes of the tower and the evil men came to Cynthia then, and tears flowed freely from her face. 

She cried, defiance filling ringing throughout the open sky. “No… No! I will not return!” 

In the moments after, Cynthia would recall a distinct calm come over her. She recalled brushing over the three remaining petals around her face and choosing the one at the back of her head. The deep breath she took before she plucked it out did nothing to numb the body-wracking pain she felt. 

Yet there was no time to register or even acknowledge it. She began to chew the petal. The sound of the horde grew louder with each second. 

After a few moments, she neared the knight’s face and planted a deep kiss on him. By the time she was done though, the army had reached her. A small group of goblins had ridden forth and encircled them. 

Among them was an old man in deep black armor. He took off his helmet and Cynthia saw the same deadened eyes of the old man that played a part in her suffering. Despite the white hair on his head and face, Cynthia once thought he was handsome, had evil not taken seed in his heart. 

The black knight alighted from his massive stead and towered over them. Within his deep black eyes was a fire that would rage until everything was burned. 

“Shall we kill the knight now, Lord Selyx?” a goblin asked, hands tightening over the daggers in their hands. 

The black knight merely shook his head. “That would be far too kind a fate, my dear friends.” He took a step closer and delivered a metal boot to Cynthia, causing her to fly and roll in the distance. Then he took the same boot and started grinding the young knight’s head. 

“This knight deserves pain and suffering,” Selyx seethed, “like all his kind.” 

“What do we do then, Lord Selyx?” The black knight’s boot rose and stomped hard. Again, and again, and again. As he continued to do so, his voice carried forth the type of rage and cruelty that haunted Cynthia’s dreams and waking life. 

“First, we’ll cut off his fingers. Then his toes. Then we’ll put a pike up so far up his ass that we can wave him around like a puppet!”

The goblins howled in delight as Selyx continued to bash the young knight’s head in and enumerate the delicious ways he would suffer for his deeds. 

“We’ll burn him. Carve him. Beat him to a bloody bloody pulp, until he won’t even recognize himself if he saw himself in the river. When he has seen the horrors we’ve made of him, maybe we’ll pluck out his ey--”

The metal boot that had been setting up shop in the young knight’s head suddenly stopped in mid-motion. The goblins tilted their heads in curiosity. Selyx’s eyes grew in alarm as the large branch slowly came out of the knight’s shoulder. Beneath it, his wounds were starting to close.

Selyx then turned his head to where Cynthia landed. She had not thought it possible for terror to dawn on this man’s face. When Cynthia indicated her two remaining petals instead of three, Selyx grew pale. 

The knight’s hand squeezed Selyx’s foot harder, eliciting a wince that made Cynthia feel like she had been properly watered. At the sound of their master’s pain, the goblins threw themselves at the knight. 

At that moment, the earth shook, ironically freezing the goblins in place. From under the knight, green grass started to grow. Several vines exploded from the ground, making shish kabobs of all eight goblins.

More vines crawled over the knight’s body, pushing until he was standing on his own two feet. Throughout all this, he kept his hold on Selyx’s boot, holding him upside down and squeezing even more. 

With a wave of his hand, the branch that impaled his shoulder levitated. He reached his hand back the farthest it could go, and the branch followed, flying far behind him and ready to shoot forward like a lethal crossbow bolt. Before he could loose it, Selyx spoke.

“You will not win. The time of The Order belongs in the past. Your pathetic rules and laws protect no one! The shadows will give way to the real light, and we will tower over all life and show all what true living is.”

The words merely blew by the knight, like a breeze through a field. A smile played upon his lips. 

“Witness the new power of The Order,” the knight said, before firing the branch towards Selyx. The branch shot straight through the black armor and right back to the eye of a treant that was slowly making its way to them. 

For a while, the knight looked at the man he was holding before throwing him off to the side. He turned his attention to his hands as he felt the power coarse through them. He was shaken out of his reverie by Cynthia’s voice. 

“Um… hello? They are still coming, you know?” she said pointing to the innumerable host of beasts coming at them. With a nod, the knight got back to work. 

Massive chunks of land pulled free with the movements of his hands. He hurled them at the oncoming army, scoring hits and crushing many. Despite hurling a few, he could see that they were severely outnumbered. Even with his newfound powers, they would not survive. 

With hands upturned, he made a grasping motion. The land between them and the horde rose and rose until the only thing that could be seen was the tower in the distance. For good measure, the knight turned his hand to the sky and swept it downward. A lightning bolt came crashing from the sky and found its mark, sending the tower crumbling below. 

At that, the knight fell to his knees, exhaustion plain on him. Cynthia ran to him and together they made their way to where Peach was and rode off. As soon as they got on the saddle, the knight passed out from exhaustion, leaving Cynthia with the responsibility of holding the reins and making sure the young knight didn’t fall off. 

They travelled at a careful pace towards a dense forest. 

While joy and relief overflowed from Cynthia, something the young knight said stood out to her. 

“Witness the new power of The Order,” he had said. 

The words sent shivers down Cynthia’s vines. As they rode into the night, she was left wondering whether she would be replacing one prison for another. 

Cynthia thought of the last remaining petals she had and hoped, more than anything, that she would be able to experience what this life had to offer before all her petals fell.