Deep within the forests of Southfell, there grows a feathery plant known for its vivid colours and quiet power.
Bloodfern is easily spotted amongst the undergrowth; its fronds stained a deep crimson like old wine, or more aptly, fresh wounds. It burns in a sea of green within the forest.
For centuries, healers used Bloodfern to clot wounds and ease fevers. A poultice of its crushed leaves could stop a bleed in moments. A tea, carefully steeped, could draw heat from the body.
But in recent times, the plant has fallen out of favour. Most humens refuse to touch it. It vanished from hospital shelves. It became a plant of folklore, and those who use it still do so in silence; an unlabelled jar at the back of a cupboard, never spoken of unless in trusted company- and even then it’s spoke of cautiously.
Not because it didn’t work, but because of its association.
It’s said that the Bloodfern grows where a vampire has spilt blood, that its colour comes from the soil that has been soaked in blood.
I must confess- I’ve never seen a vampire use this plant. What use is a plant with clotting properties and fever-breaking abilities to an immortal being?
Yet it’s entangled with vampires because of its colour.
And when restrictions came in place, herbalists and doctors were watched. Slowly, one by one, the jars disappeared from the shelves.
Now, it’s a plant of shadow and secrecy. You’re more likely to find it sold within the black market. Or in the hands of a vampire, caring for a pledge in their name.
It still grows in the wild, even though several known batches were burnt to the ground. Some say that vampires still spill blood and so it grows. As red as ever.
~ Nerien.