Graves of swords and roses

Swords. Swords, swords and more swords. It was all the eye could see. Stretching for miles, they had been planted in the ground by their tip and each blade of steel had a ring of roses placed over the handle. They were like monuments and the roses were the epitaphs.

Princess Alessia walked, her legs struggling to find the necessary strength. But yet, she continued through the field of red. Greeted by a gentle wind that swayed her flaxen hair, she looked around at the cluster of fallen weapons, all her thoughts wondering what had happened.

Farther ahead, at the rise of a short knoll, knelt a young girl. Her hair was black and her clothes looked old, incredibly old as though they were from a time that never existed.

“Who . . . are you?” Alessia asked in a croaking voice, standing behind the girl. Her throat was dry and it hurt to speak.

The girl stood up and revealed the newly placed necklace of flowers over the protruding weapon. “I am . . . Hmm. Who am I?” The girl tapped her chin in thought. “Ah–” She snapped fingers, “–you can call me Mori.”

“Mori?” Alessia tested the name on her tongue. An unusual name for an unusually dressed person. “Are you the one that's been placing roses on everyone's weapons?”

The girl nodded fervently. “The ferryman prefers the toll be paid with flowers, you see. He's tired of the usual coins.”

“The ferryman?”

Mori didn’t respond. Either she didn’t hear the inquisitive tone in Alessia’s voice or she was too preoccupied with decorating the fallen weapons. She had moved on a few feet to the next sword and her hands worked meticulously to tie another floral ring.

“You’re doing this all by yourself?” Alessia asked, looking over the field of already bedecked swords.

“Mm-hmm. I want to help guide those into What Comes Next. Flowers are such beautiful things. I wish for people to carry on that beauty into the next world.”

Alessia tried to reply but her sore throat caught her words like a blocked stream of water. She watched the girl work. Each sword took Mori over a minute to decorate and there were thousands upon thousands. It would take days – weeks, even – to complete her task.

Alessia coughed into her hand. “Do you wish for me to help?” she asked. “It is too much a task for one person. And for someone so young and little, it must be a truly difficult undertaking.”

“You were always kind, princess,” Mori said. “That is why everyone followed you, everyone believed in you, and why everyone loved you. You always concerned yourself with the problems of the common and the trivial. You cried over those who suffered, you sang to your sister every night after your mother’s departure, despite her being close to joining the queen. You never shied away from helping and loving and I believe your compassion and sincerity will be carried over with you.”

“But . . . I don’t . . . I’m not sure I understand.” Alessia didn’t feel well. Her mind was jumbled with a blockage and she couldn’t quite free it. She held her head as the pain throbbed.

“You can drop your sword, princess.” Mori looked her straight in the eyes with her own amber coloured irises. “The battle is over.”

Alessia looked at her hand. Inside her grip was the handle to her weapon. How could she not know she was still holding it? There was no weight, no feel to the sword, only the image her eyes perceived. When she opened her fingers, the sword displayed itself in the ground, the point digging into the grass, without so much as a journey from her hand to the floor.

“You are expected,” Mori told her.

“No, I’m . . . This isn’t–”

The memory came back to her in a flood of images pounding the inside of her skull. She remembered the battle, she remembered the attack, she remembered the sword through her chest . . . and she remembered the darkness in her eyes. She staggered, feeling crushed from the weight of her own thoughts. Her hand reached up to her chest and caressed the still-fresh wound. The hole went straight through her. How was she still standing? The thought plagued her and her breathing became heavy.

“It’s never easy,” Mori said. “Mortality is something we live with but when we finally lose it, we realise how important and how fragile it really is.”

Alessia’s shoulders sagged as she controlled her breaths. “I couldn’t help them,” she cried out. “I led them all to the battlefield. It’s my fault they’re all gone. Their families, their friends, they’ll all be saddened beyond their tears.”

“Even in your final moments, you show care for others.” Mori hopped over to the princess’s sword sticking out from the ground. “Roses are the ferryman’s second favourite flower. Do you know what flower is his first?”

Alessia gave a weak shake of her head, the question sparking bemusement.

“Here,” Mori said, placing a ring of marigold flowers over her sword. “I saved the best for you.” She smiled at her and Alessia felt the tears fall from her face. “Those who have fallen will not be forgotten,” Mori continued. “Their lives will weave the history of this world. As will yours. Sadly, you will have no memory of what transpired here. But others will remember you, who you were, and how you lived.”

Alessia’s legs felt weak and she couldn’t stop herself from crumpling to the ground. Her eyes caught the ethereal translucence to her thighs and saw her whole body was going through the same process.

She tested her voice by humming and, after realising she still had the ability to speak, she said, “Thank you . . . for doing this. Giving the soldiers the flowers, guiding everyone . . . Thank you, Mori.”

Mori shook her head with a smile that belied her forming tears. “It’s no problem, but one last thing before you depart, Alessia. Your sister . . . she heard every song, every word you spoke to her. Though she was in no state to respond to your love, she heard . . . and she’s incredibly grateful.”

The glowing around Alessia’s body grew brighter and stronger, as orbs of yellow light rose from her skin.

Mori closed her eyes, rested her hands on her chest, and started singing:

“When your heart is full of sorrow,

when your heart feels so sad,

there's always someone’s ear you can borrow,

and it doesn’t seem quite so bad.”

Alessia knew the song. She knew it well because she sang it almost every night. Through the luminous lights that enveloped her, she covered her mouth and wept tears of every emotion her body found as Mori continued.

“Our lives are made of gold,

so pure and so sublime.

When you start to lose your hold,

Remember everything will be fine.”

The best Alessia could do was make them rhyme. She regretted not working harder on the songs. She regretted the fact she never got to spend that much time with her baby sister. She regretted so much. Each word Mori sung tugged her heart and forced her to sob all the more.

“Surrounded in those we love,

our path does not have an end.

For we will meet again.”

Alessia reached out a transparent, loving hand to Mori, before the light engulfed her and she disappeared.

Mori watched the space where Alessia once stood. She was gone. Gone from her life and gone from the world. Mori wiped her tears away, despite the endless flow, and continued crafting rings of roses. She was the guide and, no matter who it was, she would continue guiding them. That was the deal she had made and she had received her reward. Now it was time to hold up her end of the agreement.