Once upon a time, the king was traveling under the guise of the night. Glimpses of the moon fell through the tree leaves on the path in front of him. Stars flickered on the ground. Every two seconds, their lights created spots within the darkness. Then, they cried. The luster extinguished, basking the night in darkness for two more seconds.

Grins and laughter wisped into the air, closing onto him as the winds howled their hunger into his ears. Their desires drooled onto him, sticking like a mantle of ooze.

Any joy his face could express had disappeared, forming a grim mask.

Once, he used to know these lands like his own name, but now they had turned into a stranger’s nightmare.

The king pulled the reins on his horse, making it huff and spot.

From his saddle, he descended. He petted his horse, and his companion neighed as his fingers slid through the mane.

He didn’t need to say a word. His friend understood that it should wait for him to return.

The king dragged his hood further down over the right side of his face. His left eye gazed upon the curtain of briars blocking his path. From the ground to the sky, the tendrils grew.

How far would they reach? Would they touch the gas giant outside the planet’s borders? Such questions, he could extrapolate another time.

The king drew his spear and cut through the briars with a single strike. The curtain didn’t offer any resistance, the vegetation falling beneath his vamp.

He walked through the opening he had created and entered the area the briars had hidden from him. A rose garden stretched across the land. Wherever he looked, the flowers were burning. Their petals emulated a sea of flames that thrived lush like fire.

Trees grew in isolated places, and under the crescent moon danced purple spheres of light.

The king kneeled, reaching for a rose with his hand. His fingers caressed the petals, and he smirked. Such beauty would suit his needs.

“I would not touch them for too long.”

The king removed his hand. He stood up, and the voice’s owner stared at him.

Roses protected his body like a set of armor. Out of his torso protruded roots and vines, conglomerating to function as his limbs. Ferns formed a head, and four leaves grew from his back like wings. A carmine cape reaching the ground hung by his shoulders through two thorns.

“Are you the rose fiend?” The king’s face didn’t betray any emotions, his mask not changing.

“Indeed, I am the hermit of the red sea.” The rose fiend disappeared from the king’s sight. “But I cannot remember to have given you permission to enter.” From the nearest tree, the rose fiend grew like a flower. His head beetled from a branch, his body following. The vines, roots, and roses twisted him until he hung upside down. “Before I turn you into food for my children, tell me why you are here.”

“I wish to take one of your flowers. There’s a woman.”

The rose fiend laughed. “You wish to kill one of my children for the sake of love? Such foolishness coming from you? But perhaps it is apt for the wise king to die like that.” The rose fiend vanished, and a breath’s span away from the king’s feet, he popped out.

More vegetation fused with his body. Petals and leaves grew under the nourishment. His limbs elongated, bulging to build mass. Whereas, before, they presented a humanoid’s abstract effigy, they now had replicated the anatomy with alien precision. An artist had honed his skills to improve the objective quality of an artwork that depicted a being he had never seen.

As he looked down on him, the rose fiend’s body covered the moon’s light, his shadow falling on the king. “What my children gift is no love.”

“I’m aware of that. But I need your roses’ splendor.” The king didn’t step back. He stared at rose fiend’s face, his instincts refusing to let his body waver.

“I know who you are. And I know for what you wish to sacrifice my children. Understand that I have no interest, for I see no need in the salvation of those who abuse my children.”

The king’s eye looked at the surrounding roses. “If you know my ambitions, then you are aware that I’ll save your children as well.”

“You wish to save my children just to trample on them.” The rose fiend’s voice lost its energy. He glanced at the flowers and frowned. “Death awaits us whichever road we face.”

“We all die eventually. It is upon us to leave behind honor and everlasting memories on that day.”

“You must be a jest to say these words.” The rose fiend chuckled.

“For why? If I fail, there won’t be anyone to remember the fallen.”

“One can never trust your words. But one cannot ignore them as well.” The rose fiend stepped back and stretched his arms. “You have entered my garden and shall pay for I am a wall of thorns that impales all intruders.”

“I am a spear that cut through all plants,” the king said.

The test had started. The rose fiend had found reason to grant him a chance to leave his garden alive. A battle of wits satisfied his foreign mind. Whoever would first lack a retort would face defeat. The rose fiend would lose one of his children, or the king would lose his life.

“But I am the fire that melts all steel.”

“I’m the rain pouring down on you.”

“I am the wind slicing through the rain.” Without a second to spare, the rose fiend retorted back.

“And I’m a tower standing up against nature.” Instantly, the words had left the king’s lips.

He who needed to think about the proper response wouldn’t find victory but defeat.

“I am god, striking down every tower.”

“I am the creation declaring god is dead, that we killed god.”

“Hah.” A bitter laugh escaped the rose fiend. “I am fate, enslaving all of god’s creation.”

“I am the void that swallows even fate.” In turn, the king refrained from displaying emotions. He spoke to the rose fiend like an automaton that had yet to experience the breath of life.

“But I am the weaver swimming in the void.”

“And I am the truth beyond that not even the weaver understands.”

Seconds passed, and no answer appeared.

The rose fiend burst. The petals scattered around the king and levitated to the ground.

“You may pick one of my children.” The rose fiend’s voice hallowed through the air. It echoed to the king’s ears from every flower, every bark, and leave. “But for taking one of my children, one day, I will take something from you. The scales of fate shall be balanced, and not even you can escape.” His words increased in magnitude, the vowels in their numbers. Not one individual screeched. The voices of a legion drummed their warning and promise into the king. “One innocent for another. Even if you never sorrow as I will for my child, you shall experience loss. It may be five years or twenty or two hundred, but I will take the which you hold dear the most in all nine realms. Knowing this, do you wish to continue still?”

A smile appeared on the king’s face. “Yes.”

The rose fiend looked at him and vanished. He was alone.

The red sea parted and formed a path of neither earth nor stone. In front of the king, the void pulsated. He traveled over the nothingness to a hill on which a single rose grew, lush like flames.

The king plucked the rose from the hill. He turned back on his path and left the rose fiend’s garden. Outside, his horse awaited him. He climbed on it and traveled away from the nightmare until he reached his kingdom.

The rose, the king brought to a woman, and nine months later, she bore him a child.