Rosalind quickly dressed, opting for a pale pink chiffon gown which billowed around her legs with each step. Upon the lapel rested a delicate butterfly brooch, a gift from when Caspian was still hers.

By the time she sneaked out of the manor, the little purple flowers had died.

She did not need a saddle for Persa. When she mounted her mare, she cared little for the fact that her kin would soon return and worry as to her whereabouts.

Rosalind needed to be back at the manor. It called to her like a whisper from beyond. It was something she could not ignore.

The dark stone manor that had kept Rosalind a prisoner loomed before her in its dark beauty. Though she was quite a distance away, she saw the gargoyles that rested on the crow's nest balcony over the entrance, looking back. Onyx eyes searched for her beyond the abyss.

Rosalind dismounted her horse and walked the rest of the way on foot.

When Caspian was alive, the grand home stood like an ominous shadow under a thicket of clouds. Now it was bathed in the fading fragments of sunlight.

She desperately wanted to return. To the manor. To the darkness. To him.

Time healed no wound. It had been almost a year since she killed him. Now, as the day of his death neared, Rosalind felt drawn to the Borgo woods more and more. " Was it you stealing into my bathing chambers like a mist?" Rosalind uttered to the wind, then touched her hand to her chest. "I feel you here. Where I keep everything holy."

The sun dipped lower and lower until the light dimmed. The house was covered in a shroud of grey.

"Beloved." A single word. A requiem for love.

In the dusky twilight, the forest stood behind Rosalind, silent yet all-knowing. It held her memories; the innocent and the sinful. It was there, among nightmares and trees, where she let Troy have her the first time in a desperate attempt to erase what she felt for his father.

But it did not rid Caspian from her thoughts. All it did was enhance her sorrow. Her desire for the evil lord became a fire inside her, and her love for Troy was mere drops of rain trying to put out the inferno.

Around her, all was hauntingly still.

"The woods are silent," she breathed into the faint evening chill.

A memory ghosted past her; the maid Agnes' tone was curt. "Just because the woods are silent doesn't mean the monster is gone."

"It is not gone." Rosalind wrapped her arms around herself. "One monster remains."

Night teased the hills. The last rays of sunlight were fingertips bidding her goodbye.

Around her, little nocturnal creatures woke and fussed in treetops. Dark wings upset the leaves; the rustling became a melody. In the place that once carried death, blood, and horror, Rosalind felt protected. She felt as though she were home. The forest kept her close.

High above, the moon peeked out, and the sun dipped into the horizon.

Soon supper would be served. Her father would worry. Her brothers would pace the floor until one of them demanded they go after her.

Though her brothers now hunted in the Borgo with Troy, they did not know the secret places she did. Jacob and Julian did not know the twists and labyrinths the trees made. Rosalind did. If she wanted to hide, she could.

The only person who knew those woods better than she did was Troy. The Borgo was imprinted in his brain. One hundred years as a prisoner himself, he had been banished to the woods for the majority of the time by his hateful father, who did not want to see him or have him near.

Although becoming more common, the Hershel men were not used to Rosalind's desperation to escape. They were not used to how she had changed. When she had returned from her month of being held captive in the lord's fine home, she was not the same.

"You left your home a lady, but did not return as such. Who is to blame?" she asked the wildflowers growing underfoot. Proud lion faces bowed to the rising moon. Next to them, vivid orange, yellow, and red petunia petals curved to sleep. Rosalind longed to see the purple flowers again. One. Just one.

"Your virtue. Your sanity. Everything you once were is now gone." Rosalind took one bold step closer to the manor. "No. Not gone," she corrected herself. "Given away." The sun slipped fully under the horizon, and the gray turned black. "You gave it away willingly because you loved him..." She hugged herself tighter, adding, "No, not him...them."

In a short time, she would reenter the newly refurbished manor. No longer as Rosalind Hershel but as Lady of the Borgo and Troy's wife.

No one knew the beastly lord had a son during his reign of terror throughout Transylvania. No one but Rosalind and Agnes knew of teenage Troy.

When the witch Serabeth placed a curse on Caspian, turning him from monster to man, she damned his family and everyone who lived in the home as well. Troy was cursed to remain in the Borgo and transform into a wolf when the sun was out. Lady Calla, Caspian's wife and Troy's beloved mother, was struck dead. Hundreds of tiny blue spiders had crept into her ears, mouth, and nose, preserving her body. Calla lay in a golden casket that Caspin kept in the cellar for a hundred years. When the curse broke, the spiders escaped, and Calla was finally laid to rest behind the manor.

All the maids died when Calla did. All except the eldest servant, Agnes Vauclain, who suffered a century of hatred and wrath in her old master's hands. Her faith in God and love for young lord Troy kept her from going mad.

When Rosalind first entered the house, Agnes could not believe the young woman's resemblance to Lady Calla. She feared the lord would abuse her despite his promise to Harlan that he would treat Rosalind as an honored guest.

But Lord Caspian kept his word, and for the first time in a century felt the desperation to be close to someone again. As days turned into weeks, the affection between beauty and beast grew until it nearly destroyed Rosalind and her beloved Transylvania.

When Rosalind killed Caspian, she broke her heart and the curse. Agnes and Troy, who returned to their mortal skin, were saved, as was Transylvania – the threat of eternal darkness and winter was no more.

Troy inherited the manor as a long-lost relative from England. One who had never heard of Caspian's doings. Agnes was introduced as his faithful servant who came along with him from Southampton. The pair settled in the dusty manor and set to turn the cold, unfriendly place into a home.

Rosalind walked toward a tree and leaned against the trunk. "My lord. Why did it have to end this way?" She dragged her hand along the bark, allowing the roughness to tear her palm. The pain was welcomed. With her bloodied hand, she touched her lapel and felt the butterfly pin squirm under her touch. The broach had been a gift from Caspian. It was all she had left of him that she could feel. "My beloved beast. Loving you was the best and worst thing I ever did." Rosalind bowed her head and buried her sadness in her crimson-streaked hands.

In the stillness of the shadows, a lone figure hid out of view, far behind a cluster of trees. A gloved hand curled into a fist reached out. When the fist opened, a tiny silver butterfly emerged.

The little winged creature spread its wings and took flight. As it circled Rosalind's mournful frame, it turned from silver to blue—glacier blue. Then it vanished towards the manor before Rosalind noticed. 

My eighth dedication is for Nablai , a sweet friend who I know is always in my corner, cheering me on. I am so thankful! 

Her poetry Ethereal Expressions are dewdrops in the chaos of consciousness. Sprinkled with words, they are a peek and dive into the realm of self and shells.

Fun Fact! The butterfly broach was a gift Caspian gave Rosalind right before she was to return home. (chapter 55 of Rosalind) The butterfly is magical.