PROLOG

The spell of the Rose...

Believe in the spirit of the rose.

Believe in the power that grows.

Sown at dawn, harvested at dusk.

Neither day nor night is there a chance.

Only the Twilight provides a glance.

In the single golden hour, bow down to the wildflower.

This curse that has its hold, leaves the future untold.

Château Noisy Miranda, Belgium – present time

The former glory days of Noisy Miranda Castle are long gone and the building is now in need of extensive renovation. The only thing that still works is the antique clock that adorns the dilapidated tower. It is a mystery how the clock can show the right time for several centuries, without having been maintained or renovated. The castle looks closed off and unwelcoming. The eerily dense fog sweeping across the valley only reinforces the mystery behind the site's history. The windows are dark, impenetrable to both light and movement from inside the castles many halls. What was once a well-kept castle garden with extensive, manicured lawns and carefully laid stone paths, is now covered in winding weeds and damp moss. The thunder rumbles, aloud deep resounding noiseover Château Noisy Miranda. The Oracle Ophelia is alone on the castle’s extensive grounds, she’s on her way to the sacred circle of large boulders located a short distance into the forest. The castles north side holds the grounds for the private cemetery, and Ophelia decides to take the short cut across it’s unkept lawns. Gently, she steps over the slippery and long overgrown cemented remain of damaged tombstones. With her skirt strapped to her belt, she hurries her steps making the mud splash up against her exposed calves. The light from the lightning ever so often illuminates the ground in front of her feet.  Ophelia brings her long fiery red hair over her shoulder and pulls up the hood of her dark green velvet cloak, as the rain intensifies. She makes an attempt to wipe away the moisture of rain droplets from her face, the earthy scent of the wet soil, pine needles and rich moss fills her nostrils. A change can be sensed in the wind, she can feel it more clearly as she reaches her destination. The moon's silvery light filters through the dark clouds and casts a gloomy glow over the sacred circle of large boulders towering around her, standing there like motionless guards in the night. The place is completely deserted, but strangely enough it gives her the pleasant feeling of coming home. The wind whistles a peculiar melody as it passes through the pillars of rocks. Ophelia takes off her cloak and spreads it out like a blanket underneath her. Intricate patterns of star constellations embellished the entire cloak and when the lightning lights up the circle, burst of energy spills out around her.In her small hand, the stars above come to life revealing their wisdom and old magic. The rainfall becomes heavier, pouring down with a deafening force but she is safe and dry where she sits in the center of the sacred stone circle. Ophelia runs one of her pale fingers over the collection of small bones – the magical runes of the gods. She throws them into the air, let them fall on the star-studded cloak, and now she clearly can see the message the runes tell. It's a warning. Yellow eyes in war and chaos. The battle for power over the universe. The warning is clearly written in front of her, but she can't stop thinking about Indra. It's the only thing that occupies her mind  these days.

Indra’s yellow eyes, which give her the ability to look into a human's soul and determine whether they are evil or good. Those eyes that allows her to read people's minds.

And when she's angry, she can use those eyes to set things on fire... Perhaps it is the fire that scares Ophelia the most.

The prophecy, Ophelia thinks.  I have to stop it!

She picks up the runes, throws them back up in the air and sighs deeply when they show the same message one more time.

You can't do that. No one can. No one canstop the prophecy.

"I can ..."

Ophelia notices a small movement in the corner of her eye and she casts a quick look over her shoulder. At first glance, it looks like one of the large boulders has begun to fall towards her. She scrambles to her feet to get away from the approaching threat, but it is not a falling boulder. It's King Laurin leaning against one of the massive stones. Droplets of rain drip from his shoulder-length hair, trailing its way down towards his chiseled chest. He’s wearing old fashion well-fitting black leather trousers and a linen shirt. It is no wonder she initially thought he was a threat when he is dressed like a thief in the night.

She sneers. "Stop reading my mind. You're so naïve, dear brother."

His eyes shine brightly in the dark. He shrugs his shoulders and walks up to his sister. Sometimes she wants to kill the man in front of her, but she knows it can't be done. And right now, she needs his help.

"You have to save Indra and take her away from Lucifer. Make her think we are her allies," she continues with a raspy and unpleasant laugh. Ophelia's body is almost translucent, making him shudder as she soars right through him.

"What do you want me to do? It's Lucifer who's taken her.

He would never let anyone betray him."

She sighs. "But ... Why are you always so weak?"

"You go too far ..."

"I haven't even started." She snorts. "You must be cunning and use any form of manipulation. It's written in the runes that I'm the one who should possess her powers," Ophelia lies. "You may make use of my three gifts: the invisibility cape, the magic sword, and the belt that gives you the strength of twelve men."

"Hmm, that sounds simple. Reality is rarely so straightforward. Why can't you save her with all of your powers?" Laurin makes air quotes with his fingers when he pronounces the word save. "You're an oracle," he adds.

"You must be the one who frees the girl, or we are lost to Indra's powers forever. Take the power away from her and give it to me." She soars towards him and smiles viciously. Then pushes her transparent hand into his chest, sliding her fingers through his flesh and bone until she reaches his beating heart. Her grip hardens as she pulls his body against her and hisses: "Don't forget you owe me for the gifts, so don't let me down."

Laurin grabs her hand. The heat from her translucent fingers

burns like fire in his chest and he screams out in agony. When he tries to speak, his throat seizes up only letting out a suffocated gasp.

Ophelia loosens her grip on his heart and slowly slips out of his weakened body. Laurin's legs folds under him, he falls forward on all four in the mud and just manage to turn his head to the side before he vomits.

"The power of the rose. It gives you the power to defeat Lucifer — and along with my gifts, you have everything you need. Laurin, do you swear you’ll do this for me? Swear on your own life!" she wheezes. She lets her fingers trail over the jewel-emblazoned crown that she always wears with pride on her head. The emeralds smolders like green fire around her fingertips.

She approaches himprovokingly.

"Yes, yes..." Laurin holds up a hand in defense signaling that she should keep her distance. "I swear on my own life to make an honest attempt to free Indra, the devil's offspring." Laurin looks up at his sister's face. She is indifferent and callous, there are no better words to describe her personality. She could easily kill a human being and just shrug her shoulders, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Laurin looks away, he fidgets before meeting his sister's cold stare again. "Where and how should I kidnap Indra?"

'I don't care how you go about abducting her from Lucifer, just make sure she's alive - or I can't steal her powers. As for her whereabouts, I hear Lucifer keeps her in the ancient torture dens beneath his throne in the underworld. But time is running out. In a month, Indra will turn twenty-one, and she will reach her maximum power. There and then will I have the chance to take my rightful place as the autocratic ruler of the world."

Laurin nods. Ideally, he would have preferred not to have any association with his sister at all, but this is a difficult situation and he has to find a way to resolve it. He must free Indra from Lucifer and take her to his own home. If he doesn't, his sister will take over his castle. He will lose his inheritance, and so will his people if he is driven from their lands, where he and his sister's ancestors have lived for millenniums. This is also the only place on earth that he feels really at home.

Laurin shakily gets to his feet, he brushes the mud off his clothes and prepares to leave.

Ophelia picks up the runes again and closes her pale fingers over the cold bones. Again, she throws them into the air and lets the wind get hold of them for a moment, before dropping them back down to the ground with a rattling sound.With his back to the oracle Ophelia, King Laurin hears her voice, sending cold shivers down his back.

"I want to give you a word of warning, dear brother," she whispers hoarsely. "A rose is easy to pick, and then left to wither and die ..."