Legend speaks of the tragedy that befell the Vitale Manor, of a girl with hair like gold and eyes like midnight, cursed into an enchanted sleep by a scorned fairy until her true love bestows their kiss upon her.
Years pass, then decades. A century...
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Thorny tendrils snake towards us, the skeletons they bear jostling like grotesque puppets charmed into an unnatural life.
But the heads flopping back and the flailing limbs remind me that they are dead, and I will be too if I don't act.
I sprint for the gate, pulling Lady Rosella behind me. We can outrun the thorns. We must.
A briary branch swipes at us. I dodge, shielding Lady Rosella with my body, but she pushes in front of me.
The thorns will tear into her, peel her pearlescent skin away from her dainty bones as I imagine they have been yearning to do for the last century.
"No!" I grab at her.
Ropes of thorns bite into my ankles. They yank me back. My legs give way. I fall forward and crash into the ground. My head buzzes from the force of the tumble.
I grasp at the ground and crawl forward, pulling at the barbed cords restraining my feet. There's only a sharp cutting into the soft skin at my ankles, no loosening, no mercy.
"Rosella!" I call as they drag me back towards their heart.
My blood trails over the cobblestones like scarlet threads. The thorns creep up my legs, staking their claim on me with every sharp bite.
If the lady of legend has escaped the thorns, if she has fought her way to the freedom I had desired for us both, this wasn't for nought.
Two more tendrils swoop down, curling around my wrists. I cry out as they pull me upright, clenching my fists and tugging even though I know they won't release me from their prickly grip. Blood drips down my arms, tracing wobbly, red paths over my skin. The sight makes me dizzy.
My cry catches in my throat when I behold Lady Rosella standing unscathed before me. The thorns are gathered around her, poised to strike, but I feel as though it's me they have in their sights.
I shudder. Time holds its breath. Then Lady Rosella steps away from the thorns. They slither alongside her like protective watchdogs.
"I know. It has been far too long," she croons.
The thorns scrape against the ground and rustle against each other in reply. An icy shiver runs through me despite the warm sun beating down on me.
Something is wrong, very wrong. I should know what it is, but I can't think through the pain of the thorns' grasp, certainly not when Lady Rosella stares at me with those enchanting, terrifying eyes.
She rests a cool hand on my chest. I would pull away if I could, scale the wall and flee on horseback, but the unrelenting thorns offer me up to the rose among them.
Lady Rosella tilts my face down to hers. I wince away from the cold, unsettling curiosity sharpening her perfect face.
"All this refreshing youth, all this vigour." She squeezes my cheeks.
