by E. J. Powell
The Last Petal Falls
Twisted Pages #1
E. J. Powell
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Copyrighted ©2019 Written by E.J. Powell
Editing done by Michelle's Edits
Cover photo done by Temys Designs
The Last Petal Falls
The Forbidden Forest finds those what they desire most, even if it means their death.
A beautiful maiden finds her village in flames and is the only survivor. Desperate to find revenge on her family’s killer, Ravonette sets out to the Forbidden Forest in the hopes that she'll bring the murderer to justice.
Ravonette will find that there is more than meets the eye.
To those that dreamt of happily ever afters and got more than a single rose
Prologue
The heat is unbearable, intense. Flames lick the side of the woodcutter's family cottage, smoke wafting up into the dark skies as glittering stars hang overhead. Ravonette watches with an ache in her chest, and tears stinging in her eyes as she stares at what is left of her home that she's known all her life.
The straw-thatched roof hisses as the hearth collapses inside, causing the cottage to cave in on itself and tumble down. Ravonette puts a hand to her mouth to cut off the horrific scream that dares to claw up her throat like a predator. She has to look away, knowing deep down in heart–where her gut has never been wrong before–embedded into her soul like a brand from a fire iron poker, she knows that her family is gone.
If only I had not gone to the river to be alone, to pray for my upcoming nuptials. How foolish they must think of me now, as I sit here near their remains that have turned to ash.
Ravonette stands near the tree line that is cut in a circle to have enough room to center around the tiny village that is now nothing but ashes as well. Her dark-brown eyes skirt around the few homes and with a heavy heart, she has to turn away from the gruesome sight. Someone had massacred her people. She doesn't know who, but she is determined to find out.
With, now, no family and no longer a husband–which she was not keen about marrying–there was no one to stand in her way of extracting revenge on those that had dared to harm her family. Ravonette's father had died three years ago, after a tragic accident with an axe, leaving Ravonette, her ailing mother, and two little brothers that hadn't even been able to become men, alone.
Ravonette coughs as she has to move away from the village circle and farther into the trees. She picks up the hem of her heavy skirts and tries not to drag her feet as she moves back towards the river, the only solstice that she can now find after learning that the smoke signals had come from the direction of her village.
She stumbles on a root and her stockings are torn as she begins to pick up the pace, racing through the trees, tripping and banging her stocking feet, as she moves with the grace of a gangly farmer, to the river.
Once she gets to the river, her black hair whips across her face with the sudden breeze. She shudders, pulling the flimsy blue shawl closer around her bare shoulders, as she stares out at the calm water. She closes her eyes, tilts back her head, and let's out a hoarse cry of anguish that is so high pitched that it sends a few birds scattering from their nests, nestled high up in the branches of the sycamore trees all around her.
"Father . . .," She chokes on a gasp as her howling turns to sobs that wracked her whole body. She opens her eyes and collapses, tears streaming down her reddened cheeks. "Forgive me, I could not save them in time."
Bowing her head, now on her knees, she does what she did earlier while she was praying. Folding her hands against her thighs, she whispers the Serenity Prayer and continues to say sovereign prayers for forgiveness and that justice will be served, all throughout the night until morning breaks over the horizon;finally, she stands.
Ravonette wipes her eyes, and the tears that are dried against her warm cheeks, and she turns to the left, moving across the path that stops near the edge of the trees. The Forbidden Forest looms and appears dark against the beauty of the dawn.
Tilting back her head, her chin raised high, she heads into the thicket of trees. I will find my family's murderer and destroy him before he takes any more lives that do not belong to him. I will avenge our family, Father. I will do it, no matter the cost.
1
I don't know how far I walked, how far I ran, or how far I tried to escape the idea that there was no one waiting for me back home. There was no one who would remember me. I used to be bothered by the idea that if I were to simply run away, that they would all come looking for me, my family and the few friends I'd made in the few years that my family's cottage had been there.
Father was a wood cutter; always so willing to help others, despite that his business was very poor, he was trying to cut up a fallen tree while out in the rain. His grip slipped while he was holding up an ax and the iron fell off and sliced open his thigh. Unable to walk, and no healers to pay for the potions to heal, an infection grew in his leg that did not heal, and he passed away within a week.
The wood cutting was left for me to handle, alone. Mother feigned sickness, but really she was a lady that had to run the cottage, leaving me to do all the hard labor, while she dined with friends and socialized with the neighbors, gossiping like a flock of turkeys. Mother also left me to tend to my two brothers, Anthony and Gerard, and they were both amusing at times, but rather annoying.
To think that I took my family's cottage for want, now suddenly seems like a lifetime since I last laid eyes on them. I stop to catch my breath after walking for hours with no food or water. I lean against a nearby oak, wondering how in the world I would even begin to avenge my family's death if I didn't even own a weapon. Ladies weren't allowed to partake in fights or even to cut wood, but it's not like our neighbors came to support us after Father died. They abandoned us when we needed them the most, and I hadn't really been a part of the village since.
Mother had assumed that I'd been smitten with a boy, and had decidedly offered up the idea to the one man that was five years older than I, with him being the size of a boar, was as strong as iron and burning to the touch. The man was the elephant in the room, Grant, and he'd been the only one I could not stand. He didn't like the idea of a woman being able to read, let alone think.
Often enough, women were told that sewing and cooking, taking care of a home, that it was the proper thing to do. Well, the evening of the fire, I'd had enough of them telling me what I could or couldn't be. All I wanted was someone who could understand me, love me for my flaws. So, I'd prayed about the upcoming nuptials to Grant, in the hopes that maybe after the ceremony took place, that he'd be able to see me in a new light.
"And now he never will," I mumbled to myself, shaking my head. I'm not sure if anyone escaped the fire, I don't see how anyone could with how hot the flames got, or the intense smoke that left me breathless even though I was quite a bit away from the fire itself. "What am I to do?" I sigh heavily.
"Come all ye who have a heart. Listen well, listen hard. I will lead you where you need to be, left not alone on a summer's eve. Twilight is so far away, take my head, I won't lead you astray. I'll let you in on a secret of life, my heart is mine, and yours is thine . . ."
I straighten up when I hear a woman singing. I crane my head, and my feet have a mind of their own, as I begin to crash into trees, stumbling over loose rocks, and tripping over roots as I try to locate where the beautiful sound is coming from.
"Cast all your worries onto my shoulders. I'll let you be the one to move the boulders. I'll let you in on a secret of life, don't delay, for vengeance this night . . ."
I stop and listen for the voice again. My breathing is ragged, and I have to scrub a hand across my face. The forest is quiet in a way that I've never noticed before. As if they're all waiting for the woman to sing to them again, to light their way with an ignited flame of song. "Come on," I whisper, my eyes roaming over the dark woods. If I didn't hear the voice again soon, I would assume to be lost. And lost in the Forbidden Forest is never a good idea. "Where are you?"
"I will ignite the way, be the light. Letting you have the gift of sight . . ."
I surge forward and push away tree branches, wincing when I feel sharp pricks against my head, but I move onward, hoping to catch the woman. I feel a sudden need to never be alone again, not after what I had seen.
I stop once the trees are sparse and there's a little clearing up ahead. I hesitate at the tree line as I spy a woman's back facing me. She's standing near the embankment of the river, her arms over her head, and she sways from side to side. Blonde hair whispers against her bare shoulders and I blink in surprise when she turns and gives me a smile, beckoning me to come forward.
"Hello, child." When I step out of the tree line and move closer to her, her hair shines like golden straw, spun from the tales of Rumpelstiltskin and his spindle wheel that could turn straw into gold. Vivid violet eyes sparkle as the smile she wears on her lips brightens up her face. Beautiful skin that glows under the sun, no blemishes to be found. A rare beauty, indeed, with dainty eyebrows, a slender nose, and high cheekbones covered in light freckles that dance across the underside of her eyes.
"Hello," I say breathlessly back.
"I have been expecting you." Her voice is sweet as a songbird, soft spoken as the wind.
"You've been expecting me, I don't believe I know you?" My eyebrows pull together as I frown.
The woman continues to smile, "Come, we will speak inside." She reaches out and gently takes my hand. I hesitate a brief second before following her as she turns me back around to where I'd walked out of the tree line and I stop, digging my heels into the soft dirt. "Does something trouble you, child?" The woman asks, angling her head to look at me.
My mouth gapes open, and I blink several times. "That . . .," I swallow hard, before lifting up my free hand to point at a small hut that had not been where I'd been standing before. The hut was made up of a little thatched roof, stone walls, and a creaky door swinging back and forth against the breeze. "That little shack . . . it wasn't there when I arrived!"
"Oh, this little old thing?" She laughs, shaking her head, as she tugs me forward. I follow, glancing around nervously. The Forbidden Forest has a strange way of showing magical capabilities, though I'd never dared to actually believe it before now. On the outside of the hut, it looks small enough to maybe have a sleeping pallet, nothing more, not even a hearth to cook over a fire.
The woman releases my hand and allows me to step in first. I blinked in surprise, and my head turns left then right as the hut seems to have grown twice the size it was outdoors. "I will take your shawl," she says, and I reach up to untie the flimsy shawl from around my shoulders and hand it to her, still amazed by what I see. "Tea?" she asks, skirting around me. Across from where I stand, there is a hearth that, indeed, has a fire crackling in the center, to the left is a sleeping pallet, and to the right, are two cupboards that she is bustling in and out of–grabbing two porcelain cups and a kettle pot. A wooden table and two stools are seated in the center of the hut, and I'm having a hard time believing my eyes.
The woman puts the kettle on a hook and hang it over the hearth, before turning to me. "It is not polite to have your mouth open, Ravonette." She clicks her tongue in disapproval, as she moves forward to sit on one of the stools at the table.
My mouth snaps shut, and my face turns red, "I apologize. I did not mean. . . .How do you know my name?"
The woman shakes her head, still giving me a smile. She pushes a strand of golden hair behind her ear as I take a seat on the short stool across from her. "I know many things my dear, your name and visit are only a glimpse of what I see."
"Are you a Seer?" I ask, my dark-brown eyes widening. It's been known that a Seer can glimpse into anyone's past, present, or future. Depending on what they wish you to see and what they wish to know about themselves.
The woman throws back her head and laughs. "Oh goodness no! I'm not that desperate." Seers also have a tendency of lying; some are legit in their profession, but often times they are only telling stories of what 'may happen.'
"Then how do you know me?" I asked curiously.
"Ravonette Bella Monte, ever the curious one aren't you?" She smiles, and I swallow hard. I study her for a few seconds before she gets up, and moves towards the hearth, grabbing the hook that holds the kettle and bringing it over by the cupboards to pour the warm liquid into the porcelain cups. She turns and walks over, handing me one that is cracked on the edge of the rim.
I bring the cup to my lips, inhaling the jasmine lavender, before taking a few tiny sips. I set the tea cup down as she moves back to the stool. "I still don't know how you know me," I admit after a few minutes of sitting in awkward silence.
"Ravonette, my dear, I know many things, as I mentioned previously, I was expecting you," the woman declares.
I nod. "I remember, but that doesn't–"
"Child, you smell of smoke and cinders. I know that you were coming this way, I am not aware of why you have ashes in your hair."
I reach up and touch my head, indeed finding a few ashes as I put my hand down and rub the dust between my forefinger tips. "Someone torched my village while I was away."
"My condolences," the woman says softly. I nod my head in thanks. "Were you the only one to survive?"
I shrug my shoulders, "I do not know. I believe so. My family . . .," I stop, having a hard time continuing. "I do not know."
"Death is a part of life, even if it means losing those you love and cherish deeply," she says, reaching out to touch my hand across the table. I have to take several deep breaths to keep myself from howling as I had done the night before. She takes her hand away and wraps her fingers around the curve of the tea cup handle. "I can help you, Bella." The nickname makes my heart ache, for Father had always called me 'Bella' because Ravonette was too formal in a woodcutter's home.
"How can you, milady?" I whisper.
"You wish to bring the murderer to justice, do you not?" she asks. I nod. "It would be so simple for me. I know the Forbidden Forest like the back of my hand, I could help, but only for a price. Using a tracking potion is not easy, and I have other needs as well . . ."
I stand up, the tea cup dropping from my hands to the floor, it shatters and leaves broken porcelain in its wake. She regards me solemnly as I try not to tremble from head to toe. "You're a witch!" I spit out, and I back up a step.
She remains seated, holding the tea cup in her hands, "I am." There is no denying what she is, what she is capable of.
"Why did you bring me here?" I ask, swallowing back my fear.
The woman blinks a few times, contemplating on what to say. "We both are craving the justice for those that have done us wrong."
"What could you have possibly lost?" I frown, looking her up and down. She didn't seem to me like a person who could lose anything.
"I have magical abilities, but the source of my magic comes from the Forbidden Forest itself. The forest gave me a special gift, and someone stole it from me." She frowns, setting the tea cup down, her violet eyes flashing in anger.
"What was the gift?" I ask her cautiously.
"A rose. An enchanted rose that g
ive me the power to help others. It's what I've always wanted in life, Bella." She smiles softly, "A chance to help someone like you or anyone who has had to struggle in their life, for things are never easy."
"You don't know who has stolen it?"
Her smile dims. "I, unfortunately, know the man who took it from me. Stole the rose right out from under my nose. I've attempted countless times to retrieve it, but he keeps it locked away in a safe place where I cannot get it without revealing my true self." She looks up at me with gentle eyes. "If someone could get it back for me, I'd be more than able to help you find the murderer who took your family from you."
"Even with you being a witch, you are powerless?" I asked, sounding baffled. The idea that a witch could only hold the power in her hands was if she had the magical staff or a rose in this case, to help her? How odd.
She sighs, hanging her head low. "Unfortunately, yes. However," she tilts her head back, her violet eyes gleaming, "I promise to help regain the lives that the murderer took."
"No one can bring back the dead." I say. My heart begins to pound against my chest, and I have to fight the urge to curl up into a ball on the floor and cry my heart out till the ache in my chest goes away.
The woman nods, "Most people cannot. If I have my rose back, I can do great things, including bringing back your family. They stole your heart, now it's time to get it back."
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