A girl with raven hair tore through the forest, heart hammering in terror. Dark creatures called from every crevice of the never-ending black all around her. Branches lashed at her face, and roots threatened to trip her as she desperately tried to outpace whatever was hounding her. Why had she come here? What had possessed her to think she could make this place her home?

Clutching the mandrake and nightshade to her chest, she listened intently to find any sound of the crashing that had been chasing her. Her breaths were short and shallow; her frenzied running slowed, and again she listened for sounds behind her. Had she lost her pursuer?

Gasping for air, she broke through the trees and into a small clearing. She blinked, confused. The light of the moons was able to break through the thick canopy above and cast shadows. Slowly the clearing began to take shape in the dim light. A stone archway stood in its center; creeping roses spread over the ground, coming from the stone arc. The flowers were as black as the trees around them. All was silent now. No thundering footsteps following her.

The young girl crept through the clearing to the stone structure. The roses moved from under her feet as she walked, and she glanced down nervously. The vines nearly covered the stonework, but just like they had at her feet, the plants moved as her eyes traveled from one end of the archway to the other. An ancient inscription had been etched into the rock.

A wicked smile spread over her face as she read. So this forest did hold all the power everyone feared. This power would be hers. It was here where she would perfect her magic, her craft. She would become the most powerful sorceress in all of Rhovamben. She would rule the darkness of the Rivorn, and her kingdom would regret banishing her. They would not be able to wipe her name from history. She would rewrite her future.

The young girl raised her hands and began to mutter and chant before the words on the arch. The scripts began to glow, and the roses bloomed, glowing as well. The vines stretched out, encircling the young woman. She swayed before the archway. She would become the Black Rose. The young girl brushed the tangled hair away from her face, revealing glowing lavender eyes. She would be Mormeril, queen of the Rivorn.

****Well it has been quite the journey, dear reader. Thank you so much for traveling all this way with Amara and her friends. Please comment what you thought of this book, and what you think awaits our now fractured company in next part of their story. <3