This is it, the last chapter to this part of the story. Its more like an epilogue, hence why it is shorter. Im going to take a break from this series for a little and work on other ideas and incomplete stories (Just Like You, for the readers that are still waiting for that update). Don't worry, i do intend to finish The Rose King, but i won't post any chapters until i have written down every single one and im happy with them all.

A huge thank you to everyone who has read this story, whether you reviewed it or not, i love and appreciate you all! Thank you for your patience between my long and inconsistent updates, thank you for your words of kindness and constructive criticism. I honestly didn't think that this series would be this popular but Im overjoyed to be able to write for a fandom that loves it and continues to read it even though I drop of the grid a lot. Thank you, thank you, thank you!

And now for the finish line...

It had been windy the past four days. It had become constant, blowing through the day and the night. It didn't seem like it was stopping any time soon. Something told him that he was going in circles, which was not an option for him right now. He needed to get as far away from the Queen's territory as possible, find some place to go to ground and disappear. To think and plan his next move.

Despite this forward mindset, Batlash was bitter and fuming. His main objective had been so close to completion, all his planning, research, and waiting were for nothing! He had been so sure that the rose had chosen the dark magic within it. The mystic flower had been surrounded by Boggans, creatures of Rot, that it should have become dark itself as a survival tactic. Instead it had lashed out at all present, and because he had dropped his guard, he paid for it with four broken ribs.

Perhaps it was because of the presence of the young Leafman and his friends; that some part of the rose was still loyal to the one that had sustained it until it reached maturity. The group had been valiant for their Queen and home, he admitted to himself grudgingly, that they kept fighting against a force that would have wiped them out. That, in some form, is pure magic. Perhaps sending his Boggans in to kill them had been too hasty. Given time, the rose would have chosen the darkness, and then tying up the loose ends would have been easy. But he had feared that with the boy still alive, he would have some influence over the rose. Ironically, his fear had been his downfall.

Batlash took another heavy step, his breath shuddering. Pain was as constant as the wind these days, for every breath and step he took sent fire prickling in his chest and side. He had managed to bind his torso with tight, hastily made bandages, but that did nothing for the pain. By all rights, he should be lying down, but being captured wasn't an option. He had stripped himself of his armor days ago so he could travel faster. The only thing he kept was his spider cloak, his dagger, and his mask. The mask was too important to abandon. It was the only thing keeping him tethered to this pathetic…

The Boggan stopped in his tracks, his eyes traveling up to the towering trees, watching the branches sway in the wind. The sound of the leaves rustling would cover up the approach of anyone stalking him but that wasn't what made him look a little closer at the wind.

After he had Madam Belladonna paralyze the boy, he had felt something different around him. A certain presence was watching him. At first he had been able to shrug it off and ignore it. He didn't feel it in the battle or during the first day he fled. But it had returned and his sixth sense was no longer allowing him to ignore it. He had been so caught up in his agony and defeat, that only now was he noticing that not only was it watching him, but also probing him.

If there was a fantastical earth spirit allying itself with the Queen and the young fugitives, then what's to say there weren't more? Gnomes of the earth, undines of the water, salamanders of the fire.

Sylphs of the air.

"For how much longer are you going to keep hiding?!"

Nothing responded to his outburst. The wind continued to blow as it had before. Batlash knew better now, though. There was a sylph in his vicinity and had been there since the children had arrived back at Moonhaven. The real question, however, was why it was following him. What had he done to garner the attention of a wind spirit?

The Lord growled in disgust at himself. What did it matter? If the abomination wasn't going to speak to him, then it could stay silent for all he cared. He had more pressing concerns to deal with.

"What are you?"

The question was soft and nearly inaudible. The wind could have ripped the words apart before it reached his ears, but they instead floated by him like on a gentle air current, meant to be heard by only him.

Batlash didn't bother turning around to look for its source. The sylph was still refusing to let itself be seen by him. But if it was asking that question, then it had to know.

"What's it to you?" he asked instead, keeping his tone steady and indifferent.

There was a beat of silence. "I'm not sure yet," it said at last. "But I intend to find out."

Batlash resumed walking, keeping his pace unhurried and sensing the spirit keeping up beside him "Try all you like. My secrets are none of your business, and why would I tell you? You won't even let me see you."

"There is not much to be seen."

"Have it your way. I believe you feel the same attitude about my kind as that gnome, am I wrong?"

"Wanikiy's prejudices are justified. I could care less."

So that was the earth spirit's name? Batlash filed it away for later contemplation. Thinking about the dragon reminded him of the claim it had made; Wanikiy, when he was alive, had been the Tablet Master. The Lord of course knew about the old title, having many of the records signed by that name in his personal library. There had been many, and they more or less, composed their decrees and tablets in the same way. The only way to distinguish one from the other was finding the specific Master's log book. Each one was required to update a personal journal for record keeping, and a dedicated researcher such as himself, could identify the Master by his unique writing style and then ascertain the time period in which that Master had served.

The Tablet Master during the rule of King Jori and Queen Marise had the same standard decrees as all his predecessors, but much of his work had decorative borders carved into the wood, pegging him as more artistic than all the others. One thing that frustrated Batlash to no end was his failure in locating the Tablet Master's journal to confirm his theory. Who knows what secrets the log could reveal about Marise and Jori?

Batlash realized that the sylph was waiting for him to speak again. He pulled his train of thought back on track, suddenly remembering something the air spirit had said. "If you know the gnome, then that means you are friends with those children."

The sylph didn't respond, which only confirmed the Boggan's suspicion. His hand drifted to his dagger, even though he knew it would do nothing against the spirit. "Does this mean you're only following me to give away my location to them?"

"This is between you and me. I don't want anyone else interfering."

It stated it so firmly that Batlash nearly believed him. Nearly. But he made a show of letting his guard drop. "So then I should assume that you will continue to follow me."

No answer once again. Batlash shrugged, but inwardly he was irritated beyond belief at having acquired a tag along, and one that didn't bother hiding how nosy it was.

"Hide it as best as you can." The wind spirit had taken up a growl in its voice, reminding Batlash of an enraged Boggan. "I can see the two spirit's warring within you, one that shouldn't even be there. You may seem perfectly stable to all the rest but know better. Keep your secret if it comforts you. I'll find out for myself soon enough."

"We shall see," the Lord replied coolly.

With that, the wind in the trees ceased and quiet fell over the forest like a thick, suffocating blanket. The wind spirit wasn't gone but now more invisible than ever, choosing to observe him without reminding him that it was there. Not that he would be so foolish as to forget its presence.

Talking to the sylph was wasting his time anyway, and he had precious little of that. He had to be out of the forest before Ronin could send a stable force after him. There was only one place that he could hide, where the Jinn never dared to venture.

Batlash's plans had been shattered but not all was lost, so long as he remained free and alive. His main force may have been scattered but he still had connections. The kind of connections the Leafmen would never expect him to have. There was still hope in controlling the rose, and with that, controlling the fate of nature itself.

Turning his back to the literal wind, the defeated Lord headed south, for the small human town of Oak Valley.

The End. For now ;)

Until next time, my friends

FishInAFadora