Flashes of Inspiration

The Power of the Rose

The Power of the Rose

Morpheous stared intently at the carved black crystal rose. It was an exquisite piece of art. Its petals and leaves were as thin and smooth as those of a living rose, but as hard and sharp as coral. The legends about it told nothing of its origins, only of the power that its owner could command, and the curse its owner would awaken. The curse meant nothing to him a man, for man he once had been, condemned to live the fleshless existence of a skeleton.

It was the power of the rose that had attracted him. To acquire it, he had spent the wealth accumulated in the ten millennia of his existence. He had sent three hundred million men and daemons to their deaths at the battle of Skull Mountain. He had exhausted the magic learned from the witches of Gray Moor and the sorcerers of Shadow Crest, both dead for five millennia. Now he had the rose and the power to rule the world.

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Author's Note: ▼

I wrote this when I was going to CCSN. Another possible title for this story is "The Curse of the Rose".