The Crimson Rose

**The Crimson Rose**

Lena was always intrigued by the old mansion on the outskirts of town. Its stone walls, ivy-covered and cracked, whispered secrets to anyone brave enough to listen to them. People kept their distance warily—an ancient clan had lived there once, but they had disappeared into thin air, leaving their names in oblivion. The natives avoided the property, calling it cursed. But Lena, being a quester for answers, was drawn irresistibly to the abandoned manor.

It was on a night lit by the moon that she eventually stepped inside. The door opened by itself, as if inviting her in, and she slipped into the foyer. Inside was cold and dusty, but also... A scent, faint but unmistakable. Roses. The same roses that had bloomed in her grandmother's garden, their deep red petals unlike any she had ever seen. Lena asked herself how they could be here, deep within the center of a decaying house, where life itself had abandoned all hope.

She stepped deeper into the mansion, and with each step, floorboards groaned beneath her feet. Her heart thrashed wildly as she sensed that it too was responding to something within the house—a presence, a force that she could not define but sensed deep within her belly.

And then she saw him.

A figure stood at the top of the sweeping staircase, lit by the pale light that filtered through a shattered stained-glass window. His face was sharp, almost supernatural, and his eyes... they were the deepest green Lena had ever seen. His eyes locked onto hers, and she was struck with a jolt of recognition, though she knew they'd never met.

"You've arrived," he answered, his voice low, a whisper almost as though he'd been waiting for her.

Lena's breath was stuck in her throat. "Who are you?"

He descended the stairs slowly, his steps fluid and controlled. "I am Alexander," he said, the smile on his lips making her shiver. "And you are Lena."

"How do you know my name?" she asked, her voice trembling.

He grinned again, though it was colder, more edged. "I've known you for a long time, Lena. Ever since you came in here."

The roses. The scent of them was stronger now, intoxicating, wrapping around her like a blanket. She felt lightheaded, her body reacting to the warmth of the air and the pull of his presence. It was as if everything around her faded, and all she could focus on was him.

“You’ve been waiting for me?” Lena asked, her words feeling foreign on her tongue.

“Yes,” he replied, reaching out a hand to her. “I’ve waited centuries.”

Something inside of her stirred—a deep hunger that she couldn't explain. She moved towards him, then another, until her fingers brushed against his. The moment their skin touched, a sharp, immediate pain seared through her breast. It was as if something had ripped through her very heart. She gasped, but Alexander did not let her go. Instead, his smile increased.

You're mine now," he panted, his lips freezing cold against her ear. "You've always been mine."

Lena attempted to step back, but she couldn't move her legs. The room was spinning, and everything was blurring around her. The roses... now they covered every inch of the room, growing on the walls, their red petals spilling dark, sticky sap.

"What have you done to me?" she screamed, her voice shattering.

"I've set you free," Alexander whispered gently, his fingers stroking down her arm, sending shivers up it. "I've given you that which you've always wanted."

Lena’s heart pounded in her chest, but it wasn’t just fear anymore. There was something else—a twisted sense of longing, a desire to be close to him. She had always felt empty, alone. Now, she felt *complete*, as if she had been waiting for him, just as he had been waiting for her.

“You’re dead,” she whispered, barely able to speak.

He laughed wickedly. "I am. But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of love. And you, Lena, are my love forever."

The roses were closing now, their petals stroking her skin, their perfume suffocating. She was falling into him, her senses overwhelmed by him, her mind no longer her own. His lips kissed hers, cold and sweet, and in that kiss, she knew—she would never be free.

The next day, the house remained as usual. Townspeople would hear rumors of Lena's disappearance but never know the truth. The roses bloomed, and the house took in another victim. And in the darkness of the house, somewhere, Alexander waited patiently for the next love to claim him, the next to be his victim.

For ultimately, his prison was love, and he would never be free.