Swan Lake

Master of Witch Roses

Odette galloped for a long time on her horse until she realized that the chase was far behind. She found herself in the very thick of the forest, here not only her enemies could not find her, but she herself would hardly have been able to easily get out of here.

Where did she find herself so suddenly and unexpectedly?

It was only the height of the day, but the sun hid behind gray clouds, although it was still light around, or maybe these were not clouds, but some mysterious cover hid the sun from view in this particular part of the forest. The guardians of darkness did not pursue her here, in this place, they were also afraid of something and could not overcome their fear even by the order of the lord of darkness - their only and unquestioning ruler.

Odette looked around, but did not see anything that could attract the eye, everything was as before, but the flowers took on some gloomy shades, as if they grew in a cemetery, and not in a free summer forest.

Odette's hair was twisted by a light cold breeze, there was no turning back, she was lost among the bushes and trees. It only remained to go ahead and look for what all people were afraid of.

The horse was somehow anxiously neighing under her, but he, too, did not know where to take his beautiful mistress next, he. probably, he also lived not here, but in another world, and now they are in the place that they both feared.

Odette looked at the road with despondency and froze in hesitation, where she had to go next, where there was a narrow path between flowers and berries, or where branches of ancient trees hung to the ground. The choice was so difficult, she no longer dared to hope that someday she would leave here and stay alive.

Suddenly, behind the parted trees, as in a dream, she saw the towers of a tall white castle, no, it could not be reality, where did it come from in such a wilderness. It sparkled and shimmered, but not in the rays of the sun, but in the dawn of some new witchcraft.

Its towers went high into the sky, garlands of roses wrapped around it from all sides, it was so beautiful, so charming, it was impossible to take her enchanted eyes off it. Odette guided her horse to the spot where the white castle towered.

Odette spent a long time looking for the right path and finally found herself at the high gilded gate. It was a finely woven lattice, decorated with patterns so skillful and wonderful that it was impossible to take your eyes off them, and behind the gate lay an avenue of roses. Odette suddenly really wanted to enter there, but how. Suddenly the gates opened in front of her, she jumped off the horse and found herself in the rose garden.

The garden seemed endless, it did not end even where the forest stood against the blue sky. Lush and beautiful bushes of roses of all colors and shades bloomed in it, what a beauty it was, and what a miracle it was to be here so suddenly and unexpectedly.

Odette looked around the avenue of roses, everything around was filled with the scent of flowers, their lush tender heads sparkled, as if in moments of some kind of magic and did not let her gaze leave her for a moment.

Odette tied her horse to a tree and walked forward, the scent of roses beckoning her into a world of witchcraft full of secrets.

Suddenly, Odette heard a strange voice say her name. It really seemed to her, but the voice sounded again, it could not be delirium, it was quite clear and distinct, someone begged her to leave this place. There was a long, drawn-out groan.

There was something so familiar in this voice that Odette even turned around and looked at the huge majestic castle, enveloped in the scent of roses, but there was no one anywhere who could make those quiet hissing sounds.

Odette turned away from the castle and walked on down the avenue of roses, but some bad feeling was born in her heart. Who could call her by name, when there was no one around, not a single person lived among the bushes of roses and their persistent aroma. A cold chill crept across her skin, could she really hear the voice of a ghost. There was another groan in the air above the roses, so dull and drawn out that Odette felt uncomfortable.

“Get out of here!” sounded in the silence and repeated the echo of a quiet hissing voice, “get out of here, quickly!”

“Hurry away!” sounded over her head, but where did this voice come from, it was so strange, almost inhuman and so dangerous that Odette began to look around, but she could not see anything except endless bushes of roses and the walls of a white castle.

Suddenly, Odette saw that in the distance, behind the flower beds, something shone brightly. The glow came from somewhere from a small dais.

She was both scared and interesting to go there, and, although fear would not let her in, curiosity drove Odette forward and did not allow her to turn back. The mysterious voice disappeared somewhere, silence reigned around, and now there was nothing to be afraid of.

Odette walked slowly down the avenue of roses, holding her long dress with her hand, and its hem rustled strangely in the silence, as if at any moment it was ready to become a swan plumage again, from which she would not be able to get rid of her whole life.

She walked over to a small dais where there was only one thing lying on a velvet pillow - a small golden key. He was so radiant that she saw it from afar.

A very small key, made entirely of gold, on a black velvet ribbon, shone dazzlingly. Odette, without hesitation, took it in her arms. It shone even more.

Now her road lay to the castle, for a few more minutes, and Odette entered the castle. The door was unlocked, and she found herself in a luxurious chamber. How could this castle stand here, without people and owners, there was not a single living soul around. Odette moved from room to room until she found herself in front of a closed door. This is where the gold key went, and Odette put it in the keyhole, it hit right on it. The door opened, and Odette froze on the threshold of the huge ballroom.

But the hall was not empty, it was all covered with marble statues in dancing poses. These were ladies and gentlemen in luxurious clothes, but made entirely of marble. It seemed that earlier they were all living people and danced here on the fatal festival when they were turned into marble. The entire huge hall was furnished with vases of white and scarlet roses. The door from it led into the next huge room, in the middle of which there was a huge long table decorated with vases of roses, with all kinds of food, as if someone had invited Odette to sit at it.

In the corner of the room there were three statues, three marble girls. As soon as Odette sat down at the table, one of the statues stirred, came to life, went to the table and poured Odette into a glass of red wine as blood.

“The master will be here soon,” she said, and suddenly a silvery smoke appeared from the other side of the table, and the girls instantly disappeared, and on the other side of Odette. at the table sat a gloomy stranger. He nodded his head in greeting.

“Welcome to my castle, Princess Odette,” he told her before Odette could recover from surprise.

“But the castle was empty,” she could only say.

“Empty,” he grinned and threw a white rose on the floor, and immediately music sounded in the next hall, and Odette could see the impossible through the open door, all the statues in the next hall turned into people, and they danced a wonderful dance.

“It can't be,” Odette burst out.

“Everything is possible here,” came the cold answer, “but I am glad that you visited me in my humble abode.

“Modest,” she said, “this is the richest castle I've ever seen.”

“This castle is nothing compared to King Rothbert’s castle in a dark land.”

“May I ask where I am?” Odette finally asked.

“In my castle.”

“What kind of place is it?”

“Here the borders with the impossible end, and the world of roses begins. Did you like them.”

“Roses,” Odette repeated in a dream, “oh yes, they are wonderful, and I like them.”

“This is their world,” came the short answer.

He made a gesture with his hand, and Odette saw how the wine in her glass stirred and the bloody petals of a scarlet rose, beautiful and fatal, bloomed right in it.

“Who you are?” burst out from Odette, but she did not wait for an answer. The stranger's eyes were mesmerizing, there was something special and incomprehensible in his appearance. The dance continued in the next room, but the music became quieter, as if not to interfere with their conversation, but Odette was afraid to learn the fatal truth about where she was.

“Where I am?” Odette repeated her question again, and at that moment it seemed to her that she heard the sound of beating marble.

She looked ahead with trepidation, and, it is true, when the dancing hands touched, they turned into marble, cold and lifeless, but it these moments he lived some kind of witchcraft magical life.

She turned her gaze from the dancing to the gloomy stranger, everywhere she met only cold ice, and not the looks of living people. The roses on the table right in front of her were bloodshot, a terrible sight.

“These people,” Odette whispered, “they were statues a minute ago, and now they are dancing, they have come to life, what is happening here.”

“What I command, Princess Odette,” he replied.

“Who you are?” she burst out, but he just grinned.

“I am the owner of witch roses,” he whispered back to her, “you will stay here with me forever, you will never leave here.”

He walked over to her and his eyes lit up with fire. They began to expand until they turned into two bloody fires, his skin began to c***k, and thorns of roses began to crawl out from under it, his claws also turned into thorns. Odette didn't know how to save herself from the monster.

His body, head and arms were all covered with thorns of roses, only long claws reached out to her to turn her into a statue, the most beautiful statue in his palace.

But suddenly Odette looked at the dark sky outside the windows of the castle, the time had come, she could no longer remain human.

Odette involuntarily fell to the floor, and her white dress began to turn into the plumage of a swan, now they were no longer arms, but long white feathers. Odette turned into a swan with a crown on her head. The swan flapped its wings and flew out of the witch's castle, leaving behind an enraged monster. She flew back to the swan lakes, where she would again become the princess of all the enchanted girls who had the misfortune to please the king of evil.

Etienne, meanwhile, managed to break away from the chase and rode through the morning forest, it seemed to him that his pursuers were afraid to call in here, but only why?

He did not notice the oddities of the forest, he was too tired during the night and now he could hardly stay in the saddle. Morning rays shone on the prince's handsome face. The freshness of the forest encouraged, but the road was too long and winding, although in some places there was even an extraordinary beauty - bushes of tea roses, they sparkled in the sunrise.

One thing was unusual, there were almost no forest birds, which used to fill everything around, where did they go, because this forest was as rich in its gifts as all the others. Etienne hoped that the road would finally lead him out of the forest, but the thickets of trees did not end.

Suddenly, at the edge of the road, the prince noticed a marble statue of a girl. How could she be here? Incredible, impossible, but she looked like Odette. The same eyes, the same lips, the same curl of eyebrows and even a high forehead, and a graceful nose proudly upturned. Long, but marbled hair streamed down her shoulders. In the light of the rays of the sun, they seemed real. It seemed that the girl was about to come to life and speak, and her hair would flutter in a light breeze of morning coolness.

Her dress was the most beautiful, the most magnificent and sophisticated of all that Etienne had to see. What skillful sculptor could so reflect the beauty of Odette in a statue, but maybe it was not made by a man, but one of the elves whom they saw together at the depth of a well at the end of the world. The slender hand of the statue was gripping a stone rose, on the petals of which, like a real one. the dew froze, and its drops sparkled in the sun, as if alive, but they were marble, and, probably, nothing in the world could revive them, but thinking so, Etienne was mistaken, in the mysterious world of witchcraft everything was possible.

Only Etienne turned away when some strange lightning struck in the clear sky and touched the stone statue. Immediately in the marble hand, living dew flowed down the rose, these were real drops of water, not a lifeless stone, but how could this happen.

Etienne could not believe his eyes: the rose in the statue's hand became alive, and its scarlet color would overshadow any bright fire. It sparkled and shimmered, and dew flowed over it.

A breeze blew from the west, and the girl's hair began to flutter in its gusts, it also came to life, like the folds of her ball gown. The marble color began to slip from her hands, revealing living white skin, and now a living girl was already standing in front of Etienne, not a stone statue.

She moved, and her eyes opened, and long black eyelashes trembled, these were Odette's blue eyes, but at the same time they seemed lifeless, or, conversely, living only by the magic of witchcraft.

“Odette, is that you?” Etienne whispered the first thing that came to his mind, but she only smiled slyly and, making a sharp movement with her hand, brushed off the last traces of marble paint. Now she was alive, and at the same time not, but she somehow bewitched Etienne, and it seemed to him that Odette was in front of him.

“Come with me!” She whispered, and at the same time her lips did not open, and the voice came from somewhere inside, but Etienne, as if bewitched, followed her. She led him to a white castle, around the towers of which garlands of roses were entwined.

“We're here,” the girl said, and her face lit up with a strange glow.

Etienne followed her, but something bad was waiting for him there, he knew about it, but still could not help but follow his beautiful and mysterious companion.

“Look,” she whispered, “this is the world of roses.”

“The world of roses?” Etienne repeated, as in a dream, he could not understand a single word of her.

“Roses live here,” she explained, “but they are not free. Once these possessions were available to earthly people, but a warlock came and, having defeated people, took possession of everything that is here. He wants to take possession of the one whose soul is like a rose.”

“Warlock,” Etienne repeated, “I knew only one warlock, King Rothbert, but his domain is far, far away.”

“There is another dark genius,” the girl answered calmly, “he rules in the land of roses.”

“But I have not seen a single person here, the road is empty, there is no life here.”

“No, it's just that life here is enchanted.”

“Enchanted?’

“Yes.”

“But how can it be.’

“Everything is possible here.”

“Yes,” escaped from Etienne, “but what is this edge, what is this strange place.”

“It doesn't belong to man.”

“But to whom?”

“To the master of the witch's roses,” she said quietly but menacingly. and her voice sounded so cold and lifeless, as if she really were a statue that had come to life, revived by the powers of some kind of witchcraft.

Etienne looked at her doubtfully, but he saw everything the same: a beautiful dazzling sea of ​​blond hair, they curled and sparkled, and a faint breeze fluttered them, playing with every strand.

“Who is the owner of the witch's roses?” burst out from Etienne, “and why these roses are magical, I only know one thing: flowers cannot have a master.”

“Maybe,” she said, and her voice was so calm that his calmness was frightening.

“Do you want to enter the castle?” as in a dream she asked, but Etienne felt neither betrayal nor deception, he succumbed to the spell of the revived demon.

“Yes, I want to enter the castle,” he answered without fear and without a moment's hesitation. Odette's ghost was painted with an ominous smile.

“Come on,” she said, triumph never left her face, she almost won, but only until the evil spell dissipates.

They stopped at the iron gate to the castle. The girl held out her hands, and her fingers, long and thin, clenched in a kind of witchcraft gesture. The gate immediately swung open with a creak, but this creak was more like a moan, like a wild sob of a broken heart.

Etienne followed the ghost through the gate that opened with a wave of witchcraft and found himself in a flower garden of roses. Roses were everywhere, on the ground, around in flower beds, on hedges, and even some bushes reached incredible heights in the air.

They passed the garden and entered the castle. A long train of Odette dragged along the steps of the marble staircase as they climbed up. Odette walked slowly forward, and the doors of the castle by themselves quickly opened in front of her, as if by some devilish command. They went to the swing doors, and they too swung open in front of them. Etienne followed Odette into the huge room, where, as before, there was a table laden with food and wine as for a feast or celebration.

Odette walked past the table and entered the second room, all filled with marble statues in dance poses.

Odette froze on the threshold of the hall, and then, as if waking up, raised her hands and clapped her hands three times. Then everything changed, came to life, and the sculptures began to dance. Odette took a scarlet rose from a nearby vase and handed it to Etienne. The music stopped, the statues froze in silent and cold anticipation, and Odette wanted to kiss Etienne, but suddenly he saw that instead of the hand of a living girl, a stone hand was squeezing his wrist. Etienne wanted to scream, but he could not utter a word, the stone would not let him speak. The girl in front of him turned to stone and wanted to make him the same, he felt his eyelids grow heavy, at any moment ready to close with an eternal witch's dream. His hands turned to stone, but at the very last moment he managed to break free and rushed away, and the stone crowd screamed and laughed after him, as if they had won a victory.

Etienne ran out of the castle, and the cries of pursuit died down, he stood alone in the middle of the rose garden, and no noise could reach him anymore. Suddenly he saw on the bush an unusually beautiful rose, white like snow, it smelled of a witchcraft scent and beckoned to him.

“Rip me off,” a soft voice whispered, and it reminded him so much of Odette’s voice. He bent down to a bush and picked a rose. Suddenly a flame flared up under his feet, and a terrible figure rose over the garden, long claws hanging from the inhuman hands of a shaggy monster of immense size.

“You plucked my rose, you must die,” the monster roared.

“Who are you?” burst out from Etienne.

“I am the owner of this place,” came the stern reply.

“The owner of the witch's roses,” said Etienne. He looked at the monster, it was terrible, and its long claws stretched, as if for the very soul of the prince, but Etienne could not give up so easily, he was going to fight for his life.

“You have broken my law,” the cruel master hissed.

“I didn’t know,” Etienne tried to justify himself, but it was useless.

“You have to pay for this with your life or ...” the dark creature creaked with steel claws, “or I will let you go for your promise.”

“What should I promise?”

“Your bride,” came the answer.

“My fiancee,” Etienne repeated as in a dream.

What could he say, besides Odette, he had no other bride. She was far from here now. If he promises, then not her, but another girl that his mother, the queen, will choose for him, and he decided.

“I promise,” he said, and wild laughter erupted in the darkness, the monster clawed at his neck and slashed below his face, so that blood spurted from the long wound.

“Remember your promise,” hissed the owner of the witch's roses, and everything disappeared, and Etienne rushed through the open gate, jumped on his horse and looked at the huge castle for the last time.

It was a fortress, a bastion of death, and he miraculously got out of here, he will never come to this damned place again.

He was about to go, but suddenly clouds of fire flared up behind him, and a clawed hand waved in a sorcerer's gesture.

“Remember your promise,” a terrible voice croaked after him.

The prince spurred his horse and rushed away.

The castle of the witch's roses was left far behind. Etienne was in a hurry for a date, and the wind itself helped him on the way back to his native castle, and from there straight to Swan Lakes, where Odette was waiting for him.