Blood of the Roses

A pair of heels clicked on the wooden floor, the sound echoing throughout the empty house. Well, almost. Genevieve made her way towards her sister's bedroom, stretching her arms ahead of her and bobbing her head to the pop music she was listening to. Their place was their grandmother's ancestral home, which was why the decoration was outdated, with only a few updates here and there. Yet, it gave off a homely vibe. It made her feel like a princess in the Victorian era, except she was enough to juxtapose everything the house once stood for.

She knocked on the oak door of her sister's room before waltzing in, immediately locating her sister brushing her long, black hair in front of the mirror. Irene Pierce was a woman one should never mess with, her calmness more ferocious than her temper. Genevieve looked at her sister and sighed, removing the earphones and throwing it across on the bed.

"I did what you asked me to," She said, rubbing her temple with her fingers, "I don't see the point of this all--"

"What did you find, Gina?" Irene's calm voice cut in, and Genevieve stiffened at the endearing nickname. It wasn't always Irene referred to her as Gina, but it usually meant she was in trouble whenever she did. Irene hated nicknames.

"Silver Inc. is planning an acquisition of Valdez Films. As of now, Karl is busy preparing for a press conference to announce the deal; he would be away from his office for a good four hours tomorrow."

A hum from her sister made Genevieve roll her eyes and lie down on the bed as she narrated the rest of the information like a news anchor. Honestly, she didn't understand why Irene trusted her with finding out confidential and dangerous news when she was better at doing that herself. Genevieve had almost gotten caught snooping around in Karl's office if it hadn't been for the secret passageway that Irene had told her about using in case of emergencies.

"Is that all?" Irene asked when she finished delivering the news to her.

Genevieve thought about it for a moment before nodding. "That should be all."

"Although," She continued as something popped in her head suddenly, "I heard Karl talking on the phone about a weird thing, I didn't pay much attention to it."

"What was it?" Irene prodded, suddenly sounding interested.

"Something about a fire crown, I think, I escaped before I could listen to his conversation--"

"Crown of Fire?" Irene put down her brush and turned to face Genevieve directly, an expectant look on her face.

"Yeah, I think that was the name." The younger replied, feeling slightly intimidated by the excitement twinkling in Irene's green eyes.

A full-blown smile broke out on Irene's lips as she rubbed her palms together in excitement. "Finally, the legendary object makes its appearance."

She rummaged through her bag and pulled out her phone. She quickly texted someone before clicking the device shut and fiddling with the necklace around her neck, deep in thought.

"Uh, sister?" Genevieve said carefully, startled by Irene suddenly getting up from her seat. The Irene in front of her wasn't someone Genevieve was familiar with; it was strange to see her sister excited about something. "Care to explain?"

Not answering her, Irene shuffled around the room, obviously looking for something. She opened her small locker in the corner of her closet and pulled out a tattered brown book that looked more ancient than the house itself, which itself was saying something.

Irene gently flipped through the pages before sitting down next to Genevieve on the bed. She pointed to what seemed like a drawing of a crown on the left side of the book. The picture looked like simple brush strokes, yet the simplicity of it couldn't hide the elegance. The drawing was decorated in rich colors of purple and blue, the paint of the jewels delicately interwoven with the metallic color of the arms that held them together.

"The Crown of Fire," Irene started, "is said to possess magical powers that could bend the route of the wind itself. Legends say it has ethereal beauty for an object, bewitching any mortal who dares to lay their eyes on it. It gives its wearer extraordinary power, yet these powers are enough to destroy the entire world. It is said to have been crafted especially for a queen in Chinese history by a group of magic cultivators, and it has since then become her family's heirloom, until the end of the bloodline." She finished, closing the book and staring at the wall in front of her.

"Damn," Genevieve breathed, "it seems like a fairytale to me."

"It is, as people believe." Irene stated, "but not for our family and, of course, the family of that queen in history."

"Do we not know them?" Genevieve inquired.

Irene shook her head. "The crown is said to be protected by its guardians, who are the members of the family. The destructive power that it possesses is why the queen's identity and her family have remained a secret. Only these guardians know how the crown looks like. Since it has such a long history, people now don't really remember this magnificent object, dismissing it as a fable which in a way is good; it shields the crown from wrongful eyes."

"Wait," A thousand questions were running in Genevieve's mind, "you said, 'our' family. What do you mean?"

Irene smiled mysteriously before placing a hand on Genevieve's shoulder, "It's about time you learned about the history of our family, Gina."

Gina again. Genevieve gulped, definitely not feeling ready for the truth to be revealed to her.

Irene sensed her hesitation and waved a hand as if she was dismissing the topic. "Don't worry, Genevieve. No matter what, I'm there for you, okay?"

Genevieve nodded, relaxing slightly, knowing that her sister wasn't lying. She always had her back, and she was grateful for it.

"Pack your bags, little one," Irene said, already moving about the room. "We're going to America."

"Wait, what? Why?" Genevieve jumped up from the bed, trying to fix her gaze on the moving figure of her sister.

"To learn about our family's history and the Crown of Fire, of course," Irene replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Didn't you know our history already?" Genevieve cried in frustration, running a hand through her messy hair.

"Oh my dear Gina," Irene stopped and placed a hand on her shoulder, "didn't you understand already?"

'Obviously, I didn't!' Genevieve wanted to say it aloud but managed to shake her head, indicating negative.

Irene clicked her tongue in disappointment. "You really need to work on your deduction skills, Gina. We're the descendants of the magic cultivators, of course."