The blood-soaked rose was more than a threat it was a signature.
Lucien held it in his gloved hand, examining the delicate inscription carved into its stem. Soon. A promise, a countdown, a warning. Not from a common enemy, but from one Lucien had never expected to rise again.
"The Black Rose Pact," he muttered, pacing the study. "They were extinguished twenty years ago."
Soraya shook her head. "Not extinguished dormant. And now, it seems someone's watered them back to life."
Aurelia stood near the hearth, arms crossed. Her magic burned under her skin like a fuse. "Who are they?"
Lucien's gaze flicked to her. "They were a radical faction within the conjuror's circles. A cult of assassins and seers obsessed with 'balancing' the bloodlines. They believed certain children born under magical convergence could end the age of mafia dominance forever."
"And now they believe... our child could be one of those?" she whispered. Lucien nodded grimly. "Or the one."
That night, Aurelia met with the spirit of her grandmother in the dream-realm of scrying glass.
Her grandmother's voice came softly through the fog. "You carry power, child. But your enemies don't fear your magic. They fear your mercy."
"I don't understand," Aurelia said.
"They fear a new order," the old seer replied. "One not built on contracts and blood, but on vision and will. You won't just give birth to a child, Aurelia—you'll birth an age."
The next morning, the courtyard erupted in chaos.
Two of the palace guards had been found—choked by thorns, their eyes sealed with wax. Etched across their armor: a sigil Aurelia had seen in her grandmother's Book of Unmaking. Three roses crossed by a single sword.
"They've breached the inner circle," Soraya said through gritted teeth.
Lucien issued orders instantly. "Lock down the gates. No one in or out without a binding spell. Activate the Spirit Ward."
But Aurelia remained still, holding the Book of Unmaking in her hands. A page had turned on its own.
A spell of protection. One that required blood. Hers.
At midnight, she stood alone at the center of the garden, surrounded by a circle of salt, fire, and blooming white roses.
Lucien watched from the shadows, fury and fear battling in his eyes. "You don't have to do this."
"Yes, I do," she whispered.
She cut her palm with a silver dagger and let her blood fall onto the soil. The earth trembled. The roses turned crimson. And in the stillness that followed, a soft voice spoke from the silence.
"I see you, Aurelia."
A shadow stepped from the trees. Cloaked in black, a mask of petals covering their face. "I am the Speaker of the Pact. We come not to kill you... but to take what is ours." Aurelia's voice never wavered. "You'll have to go through me."
The figure nodded. "Then let the trials begin."