The Flower of Life 1

Win slides across the wooden floorboards as he takes a knee to reach Rolant, fallen on the ground. Rolant writhes, grasping at nothing, grasping at his shirt tight against his muscles, a sharp pain stabbing deep through every inch of his body. Win isn’t sure if Rolant is even still aware of them, now circled around him. He reaches out and grabs Rolant’s hand tightly. It’s cold to the touch, though as Win shifts his fingers down Rolant’s arm, his pulse still feels normal.

“Rolant! What happened? Can you speak?”

Rolant gives no response and shows no sign of having heard anything at all. Win grips his hand tighter. Win begins to cast the most basic of healing spells. Although he can feel the spell being cast, he can see no effect in Rolant. He increases the power, yet still there is no sign of healing. He changes to a spell of greater strength, yet still nothing changes. Win grimaces at his own powerlessness. He looks at Calliope and Anterus standing around him and Rolant with desperation in his eyes, a strange thing for such a powerful and distant man.

“My spells do nothing. Whatever his condition it seems magic cannot cure it.” Calliope has a sudden realization and quickly writes something down.

“I might have something that can help in the cottage.”

“Materials you couldn’t transport, I presume. Very well, let us return.” Win seems to regain some courage and some calm as he begins to lift Rolant’s large body. He looks at Anterus. “Mr. Anterus, thank you for your hospitality these past few days, but we must be off now. I’m not sure if Rolant’s condition is stable considering how quickly and suddenly it progressed.” Win moves to leave, Calliope following after him. “Calliope, if you get tired, I can carry you as well.”

Win and Calliope quickly reach the city gates. Win forces them open and they walk through. The stationed guards raise their spears, but cannot do anything. The strength emanating off Win, even with Rolant on his back, is more than enough to make them stop. They shy away, knowing they could never defeat him, and let Win and Calliope pass.

They walk through the night. When his legs grew tired Win healed them. When his mind grew tired he forced magicked it away. When Calliope grew tired he secured Rolant to his back in another way and carried her in his arms, a spell giving her comfortable sleep. They walk through the next day as well. Win, beginning to feel his magic dwindle, has brought them to the forest in less than a single day, the afternoon sun still in the sky.

Win and Calliope make their way through the forest. She leads them to the cottage quickly, she herself guided by the spirits. They reach it, the cottage still untouched from when they departed only several days prior. Calliope opens the door for Win. As they walk in, she points out the direction of her bed. Win walks over to it and gently lowers Rolant into it. As Win returns to where Calliope stands, he rolls his shoulders, shaking out the weight he had been bearing. He lets relief wash over him for a moment as the situation begins to feel less dire.

“So what is this panacea of yours?” Calliope opens a drawer and pulls out a dried flower. The petals shine with the colors of the rainbow, an unearthly plant suffused with magic. Although the flower ought to have grown dull, it’s still brighter than even flowers in full bloom. “What a curious flower. I’ve never seen it before, not even in illustrations in encyclopedias.” Calliope quickly writes about it.

“It’s a rare flower. I’ve only seen it so many times, and this is the only one I’ve found in this forest. I don’t know if it has a name, but I call it the Flower of Life. When I first found it, it healed the wounds covering my body.”

“A magic flower then. Is it truly alright to use something so precious now?” Calliope looks at Win, confusion clear in her face.

“Is it wrong to help somebody?”

“No, I suppose it isn’t. It isn’t at all.” Calliope begins to crush up the flower in a small mortar. “Please, allow me. You always have so much in your mind, and you can’t very well speak if your hands are occupied. Tell me if I do something wrong.” He puts out his hand and Calliope tentatively places the pestle in it.

“Why are you going to such lengths to save Rolant? I thought you hated him.”

“I… don’t like him at all. He’s a shallow coward and a man without virtue or pride. He’s not the sort I’d like to associate with at all. But… I wouldn’t be able to sleep well if I abandoned him to die.”

“Most people would feel that way, but few would run without even taking a break after fighting all day. I’m shocked you can even stand.”

“I’m a resilient man if nothing else. And for the rest of it… I couldn’t let him die, nothing else.”

“You’re not hollow at all, and you’re a kind person.”

“I should have left this to you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Who knows.”

“Did you want to talk to me?”

“Perhaps keep telling yourself that and it will one day be true. But today… I had no reason. It was just a whim.”

“I’m glad we can talk like this.” Win looks somewhat melancholic.

“Talking. Communicating. Connecting. It’s all meaningless in the end. Our lives are short and insignificant when viewed on the grand cosmic scale. Our existences are cruel and depraved, always hurting others even if we don’t intend it. Without anything to guide us we’ve lost sight of our moral code, our humanity, our kindness. All we can do now is pageantry.” Win realizes that he slipped into a strange rant only as he finishes. “Sorry.”

“Is this just pageantry?”

“It is indeed.”

“And Rolant might be saved.”

“Perhaps so, but even saving another is meaningless, as our existence is nothing more than living and death in the end. It’s just performance in the end.”

“But if he might live then isn’t pageantry fine?” Win has no answer.

“Let’s finish this medicine of ours.”

Calliope takes the finely ground flower and mixes it into a cup of water. She adds several more herbs to the mixture, then hands it to Win. Win takes it to Rolant, laying still in bed. Win gently lifts his head, then raises that cup to make him drink. He takes in the whole mixture, but no change occurs right at that moment. Win takes a chair from the other room and sits at the bedside.