Red Rose, Red Rose...
"This rose we bear will never die..."
Four centuries ago, an epidemic swept the world. Scientists and researchers scrambled to find a cure, but found only wisps that vanished in their grasp. In despair, they continued to struggle.
Four centuries ago, the world fell to its knees and prayed for survival. Religions met in wary peace, deciding that survival of the whole was better than survival of none. Together, they prayed in their own ways, hoping for salvation.
What they got was damnation.
The disease struck with a suddenness that shocked the world. Within twenty-four hours of the initial case, more than a fourth of the world's population was showing signs of the infection. Three weeks later, half the world was down with it, care systems were strained, fields were left unattended, and scientists and researchers struggled to give the world the answers it demanded.
Resistant to all available antibiotics, the bacteria spread unchecked through the population, taking down children, adults, and elders equally. All told, the first outbreak lasted approximately four years, with cases popping up over the entire world during that period of time. Eventually, a method of immunization was created that proved effective. Children now learn to think of this as Phase 1.
Five years later, as the survivors were getting their lives back on track, the disease struck again. Most victims this time were children of the survivors, though adults were by no means immune. The disease had mutated enough to strike down some who had remained untouched the first time, and killed others who had survived before. Using the previous work done to create an immunization against the disease, a new drug was created within a few months to immunize people against this new strain. History would label this Phase 2.
From this point on, cases of the disease cropped up again and again, a few here, a few there. Each time it reappeared, it was mutated enough that previous immunizations proved ineffective. Each time it reappeared, a few more either died or survived as cripples. This slow entropy of the population lasted an entire generation, until the only ones left alive were those who had survived or those who were completely immune. This final, drawn out stage came to be known as Phase 3.
Now, four centuries later, the plague is little more than a footnote in the pages of history. A footnote that lives, breathes, and moves through daily life shoulder to shoulder with normal humans. For while the disease no longer exists in a contagious form, descendants of survivors walk through life carrying the disease within them, gaining benefits where their ancestors gained only suffering.
The world knows them as the Fallen and the Lost, those who walk alongside, yet apart, from society. Feelings remain mixed, but one thing is clear:
The undying rose is here to stay.