A Floating Dream

Prologue

She wakes up, alone and confused surrounded by blood and feathers. The cold stone floor is rough to the touch and she quickly realizes that she is within a circle of some sort. Her body aches, feeling weakened but why is she here? 

“Hello? Anyone here?” She calls out into the darkness; the shape of a figure sits in the darkness of a corner. She stumbles upon her feet, still weak from laying on the ground. “Hello? Are you awake?” She asks the figure but to her horror, the figure slops over dried out from all its blood and falls to the ground with a thud before its pieces break off from the collapse. 

“What… why? Where… who?” Her confusion seeps into her, she now notices that her own memories feel like a faded mystery. Does she even remember her name? She doesn’t. Her back’s been aching all this time as if some weight is holding her down. On a quick glance, she notices her tattered robe has been cut open and on her back sticking out is a bunch of feathers aligned in various ways.  

“I have… wings?” She asks herself still confused about the situation but at the same time, it doesn’t feel unnatural for her. 

“Alright, I have to get out of here and figure out what is going on… I’m not… me? No, I need something to call myself for now.” She says looking at the various items that are strewed about on the nearby desk. Some bloodied parcels, bottles, books, and tomes. Oddly enough, the only thing kept neatly on the desk is the lone rose sitting in one of the vases. 

“Rose… I like that. I will call myself Rose for now until I can figure out what is going on.” Her confidence in herself is the only thing keeping her fine in this strange situation. 

Rose would make her way through the door to a nearby hallway. The torches give off a looming light as she passes them one by one. Her white feathery wings are dragging her down and she feels sluggish and weak. 

“When… did I eat last?” She says out loud to herself. She tries to remember but nothing comes to her. She has no memory as to why she is in this place or how she became to be here. No memories of her from a young age… it is all blank.