The Blue Rose of Venice

Chapter 5: The Dawn That Will Not Rise

As the celestial woman vanished, a silence heavy with unanswered questions filled the library. Aline felt an otherworldly chill settle in her bones, echoing the woman's warning: "Flee now..." Her gaze toward her daughter shifted; her fear was no longer just maternal instinct, but a sacred duty to protect a prophecy she could not yet grasp. Knowing she had to find a sanctuary for Venus to grow, she bolted from the library toward the bedroom, driven by pure panic.

​She burst into the room with a trembling body, lunging at Alex to wake him with frantic force. She tried to scream, to tell him what had happened, but her voice remained trapped in her throat as if the celestial visitor’s frost had frozen her vocal cords. Words failed her, but her glazed, terrified eyes and desperate shoves were all Alex needed to understand that hell was at their doorstep.

​Alex bolted up from his heavy sleep to face her eyes, which told the whole story. He didn't need to ask; the hiss of terror in her breath said enough. He rushed out of the room, charging through the dark hallways toward Dr. Mary’s room. He pounded on the door with a violence that shook the house, shouting in a stifled voice: "Dr. Mary.. please open the door! The time we feared has finally come!"

​Outside the walls, the Venice they knew was fading. The mist crawling over the canals wasn't ordinary vapor; it was dense, dark, and so cold it made the wood of moored boats creak and c***k. In the silence of the narrow alleys, the "Obsidian" began to manifest—long shadows that light could not pierce, and feet that left a trail of charred ash instead of footprints.

​Time froze before Dr. Mary’s door until the click of a metal lock echoed. The door creaked open to reveal Dr. Mary, fully dressed and clutching an old leather bag. Her eyes held a gaze that had been anticipating this knock for years. She didn't ask "What happened?"; instead, she said in a calm, decisive voice: "Turn off the lights... the eclipse has begun ahead of its time."

​Alex did not hesitate; with a swift glance toward the window where darkness began to swallow the moonlight, he extinguished the only oil lamp in the hallway. A heavy gloom descended, pierced only by the sharp glint in Dr. Mary’s eyes. Aline followed them inside, clutching Venus so tightly to her chest she almost took the infant's breath away. Yet, the baby did not cry; instead, her blue eyes glowed with a calm chill, as if she were the only one who truly belonged to this sudden winter.

​Dr. Mary’s room smelled of things Alex had never encountered—a blend of burnt sage, ancient parchment, and something resembling the scent of rain just before a storm. It wasn't merely a doctor’s bedroom; it looked like a secret observatory. Celestial maps drawn in silver ink covered the walls, and glass vials containing faintly glowing liquids sat on the shelves.

​Dr. Mary placed her leather bag on the wooden table and opened it firmly, pulling out a strange metallic amulet engraved with symbols resembling snowflakes. She looked at Aline, her voice tinged with sadness: "The warmth you try to give her, Aline, is her shield for now. But outside these walls, it will be the very thread that leads the 'Obsidian' to us. They aren't searching for her body; they are tracking the heat in her heart to extinguish it."

​Alex asked, his features hardening as he checked his old dagger: "Who are they, Mary? And what do they want from a child who hasn't even seen the summer sun?"

​Mary turned to him, the pale moonlight creeping through a slit in the curtains reflecting the sharpness of her face: "The Obsidian are not human; they are the remnants of an ancient storm imprisoned in the depths of the earth. They fear Venus because she is the prophecy that will freeze their fires forever. And now, because of this premature eclipse, the gateway has opened. We must reach the 'Rio di San Polo' canal before the water freezes completely and the boat becomes trapped."

​Aline packed what she could of Venus’s small belongings with trembling hands, while Alex watched the house entrance through a c***k in the door, his weapon in hand as if defying an invisible fate. Dr. Mary approached them and threw a heavy cloak of dark wool over Aline’s shoulders, saying: "Cover the little one’s face; the breath of the Obsidian is toxic to those not accustomed to the cold of the prophecy."

​When Alex opened the door, they did not face the usual humid air of Venice, but a wall of black mist that seemed to crawl like a living thing. Visibility was nearly zero, but worse than the darkness was the silence—a funerary silence broken only by the sound of black snowflakes hitting the ground. They weren't snow; they were charred ash falling from a moonless sky.

​"Move.. and do not look back no matter what you hear," Alex whispered, pulling them toward the narrow alley leading to the canal.

​As soon as their feet touched the street, Aline felt the ground beneath her tremble slightly, as if something massive were moving in the depths. From within the mist, jagged silhouettes began to appear—shadows of tall, featureless bodies dancing around street lamps that had gone dark, their glass shattered. These creatures did not walk; they flowed like smoke, leaving in their wake a cold that sucked the life out of the stone walls.

​Suddenly, a distant cry rang out—not a human cry, but one like the wailing of winds in an abandoned cavern. In that moment, Aline felt Venus stir in her arms. The infant’s temperature began to drop terrifyingly, while the mist around them started to freeze into sharp crystals that fell like needles.

​"They have caught our trail!" Dr. Mary shouted, pushing them toward the boat moored at the canal's edge, where the water was already being coated in a glassy layer of ice.

​Alex jumped into the boat first, then helped Aline and Mary. Once they were settled, he took one last look at the alley they had just left. There, amidst the mist, he saw a single eye glowing with the color of black obsidian, watching them with a terrifying calmness, while the dawn promised by the celestial woman was delayed, leaving behind a night that would not end before the fate of Venice was written in ice and ash.