Author's Note

They all know her as Theodora.

They know her as the embodiment of peace, light, Joy. The being that drew the dagger of despair from their chests.

They know her as wise beyond her years, collected. Cold. Relentless and ruthless in the face of injustice.

They know her as Beauty itself; her ethereal gowns adorned with blossoming roses, as scarlet as the blood that they no longer shed. the glow of her rich dark skin swirling into the soft beams of sunlight that they had yearned for all those years.

But they don't know of the thunderous clouds of darkness that implode within her; the roses shrivel and wilt, and the rivers run dry, encrusted with the old blood that drained out completely.