Chapter Text
As a woman of faith, me, a humble servant of My Lord, the one and only god that looks upon his people of Wallachia , Glacier Valentinescu, daughter of a blacksmith, serves my community as a simple florist.
It makes enough for a comfortable and leisurely simple life I lead now for a good few months after becoming of age. You could say everything was perfect, or somehow I let myself believe those foolish words like a prayer. Between tending to the town folk and my beautiful flower garden for my business I indulged in magic. One could say I stepped from god”s path but was I ever truly on it to begin with? Only a fool could answer with the certainty of a doomed man.
In the following weeks since the beginning of my sorcery I managed a few simpler spells and one that was my biggest pride and joy was also my darkest secret as well as a weapon. An old fountain pen I accomplished in turning into a scythe, a weapon for time of need.
And somehow the time of need came quicker than I expected, a time of trial for brave and breathing, a test of faith to Our One and Only. The scars we bear are a statement of our commitment, my father would say, a statement that we are ready to take the consequences of not only my sins but also the people around me. “That’s why we have wars, my rose.”, he’d say at the dinner table when i was younger as he drank the homemade rum from the family's recipe while mother repaired my one good purple church dress I somehow still managed to ruin on a short walk home from the cathedral.
It was a cold autumn of 1476 news of our darkest times spread fast yet devil”s evil spread faster, muddy roads bitten by frost and sunken in blood, towns wiped out in weeks if not days or sometimes even hours by the thirst for blood of the night monsters, bodies disappearing from shallow group graves and alleyways without as much as a whisper.
And soon the tragedy touched my town and my people, terrors no one could imagine night by night, days spent cleaning out blood and gathering the rest of alive and remaining corpses or sometimes loose limbs if people were lucky not to gag out in disgust at gory sights.
Of course with my new found potential I could not back away from protecting people close to my heart, just as my father taught me and just as Lord said, I was ready to sacrifice anything and I’ll preach it till the day my kind goes extinct even if the day seemed closer than we thought, even if my story as a humble florist came to a halt before I could take a breath of adult freedom, life that was taken away too quickly and early as it was returned to me. Return that no voice or thought of mine begged for.
Was it mercy? A punishment fitting the crime that my atheistic beliefs brought upon me at this desperate hour? And what about my savior? Did he thrive in bringing me eternal suffering or was he offering a second chance? That I’ll never learn. Not until I won’t see him again, push a blade to that pale neck and scream for answers. But until then, I’ll roam like a monstrum my parents told me scary stories about, that purpose was to keep me in my bed, tucked in safely after dawn.