The Lady of Black Roses
Nobody in Raven shade Village spoke Lady Nova’s name after sunset.
Not if they could help it.
The old women claimed it brought misfortune. Children whispered that saying her name three times before a mirror would summon her reflection behind you. The men laughed at such stories during the day, yet none of them dared climb the hill to Blackthorn Manor after dark.
The manor stood alone on the highest cliff overlooking the village.
Its black towers pierced the clouds.
Its narrow windows glowed faintly at night.
And surrounding it was a vast garden of black roses.
Not dark red.
Not purple.
Black.
As if every flower had been painted with the darkness of midnight.
The villagers feared the roses almost as much as they feared the woman who lived among them.
“She’s not human,” old Mr. Grayson muttered one stormy evening inside the tavern.
Several villagers nodded.
“My grandfather saw her when he was young,” another man said. “He swore she looks exactly the same today.”
The room fell silent.
Near the fireplace sat three brothers.
Lucas.
Finn.
And Rowan.
Lucas laughed.
“You people are scared of stories.”
“They’re not stories,” an old woman snapped.
Lucas stood.
“Then I’ll prove it.”
Finn frowned.
“Prove what?”
“That Lady Nova is just a woman.”
A wave of protests filled the tavern.
“Don’t go near that mansion.”
“People disappear up there.”
“The roses watch you.”
Lucas only grinned.
“I’ll walk right up to the gates.”
Thunder rumbled outside.
For a brief moment even Lucas looked uncertain.
Then his pride won.
He grabbed his coat.
“Come on.”
Neither brother wanted to go.
But neither wanted to look afraid.
Together they stepped into the storm.
Rain lashed against them as they climbed the winding road toward the hill.
The journey took almost thirty minutes.
By the time they reached the gates, their clothes were soaked.
The mansion loomed above them.
Silent.
Watching.
The black roses swayed in the wind.
Finn swallowed.
“I don’t like this.”
Lucas rolled his eyes.
“They’re flowers.”
“They don’t look like flowers.”
Truthfully, they didn’t.
Under the moonlight the petals seemed almost alive.
As if they were staring back.
Rowan pointed toward the mansion.
A figure stood in an upper window.
Tall.
Motionless.
Watching them.
The brothers froze.
“Is that her?” Rowan whispered.
Lightning flashed.
The figure disappeared.
Darkness returned.
Lucas forced a laugh.
“See? Nothing happened.”
His voice echoed across the garden.
Silence answered.
Then he bent down, picked up a stone, and hurled it at the gate.
CLANG.
The sound echoed through the storm.
Everything stopped.
The wind died.
The rain softened.
Even the trees seemed to freeze.
Finn felt cold all over.
“Lucas...”
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
Then every black rose turned toward them.
Thousands of flowers.
Facing the gate.
Facing the boys.
Lucas stepped backward.
“No...”
The roses began to move.
Their stems twisted.
Their branches curled.
Like dark fingers reaching toward them.
The boys screamed.
And ran.
They did not stop until they reached the village.
The tavern door burst open.
The villagers stared.
Lucas’s face had gone white.
“What happened?” Mr. Grayson demanded.
“The roses...” Finn whispered.
Nobody laughed.
Not after seeing the fear in their eyes.
Far above the village, Blackthorn Manor remained silent.
Watching.
Waiting.
High in one of the upper windows stood Lady Nova.
Her silver eyes followed the fleeing figures.
A servant might have laughed.
A queen might have been insulted.
Nova felt nothing.
She turned away from the window.
The room behind her was enormous.
Bookshelves stretched from floor to ceiling.
Ancient paintings covered the walls.
A single candle burned beside a leather chair.
The mansion was beautiful.
And empty.
Very empty.
Nova walked through the halls.
Her footsteps echoed through corridors that had not heard another voice in years.
She passed the dining room.
One chair.
One plate.
One cup.
Always one.
She entered the library.
Hundreds of books filled the shelves.
Some were older than the village itself.
Years ago she had read every one.
Now she rarely opened them.
Stories lost their charm when there was nobody to share them with.
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
Nova paused before a long corridor.
The East Wing.
The oldest part of the manor.
A heavy iron gate blocked the entrance.
Strange symbols covered its bars.
A silver key hung around Nova’s neck.
For a moment she stared at the gate.
Then she continued walking.
As if she had heard nothing.
As if nothing waited beyond it.
Yet her hand unconsciously touched the key.
The storm grew stronger.
Rain hammered against the windows.
The black roses bowed beneath the wind.
Nova returned to the entrance hall.
Silence surrounded her.
Silence had become her closest companion.
At times she hated it.
At times she welcomed it.
Most days she no longer knew the difference.
Then—
Knock.
Nova stopped.
The sound echoed through the mansion.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Her eyes narrowed.
Nobody visited.
Nobody dared.
The knock came again.
Slow.
Patient.
As if the visitor knew she was there.
Nova descended the grand staircase.
The enormous hall seemed colder than before.
Halfway down, she glanced through the glass doors.
Several black roses had bloomed.
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
The roses never bloomed during storms.
Never.
A strange feeling settled in her chest.
Something had changed.
She reached the door.
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds she simply stood there.
Then she opened it.
Cold wind rushed inside.
Rain poured from the dark sky.
A young woman stood on the steps.
She looked about Nova’s age.
Dark hair clung to her shoulders.
A travel bag hung from one arm.
Water dripped from her coat.
Most surprising of all—
She wasn’t afraid.
Instead she smiled.
“Hello.”
Nova stared at her.
Nobody smiled at her.
Not anymore.
“My name is Eira,” the girl said. “I’m sorry to arrive so late, but the storm became worse than I expected.”
Nova said nothing.
Eira looked past her into the enormous mansion.
Then back at Nova.
“You are Lady Nova, right?”
Still no answer.
Eira laughed softly.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
For reasons Nova couldn’t explain, the girl’s confidence irritated her.
Yet she didn’t close the door.
Thunder cracked across the sky.
At that exact moment, another black rose bloomed.
Then another.
And another.
Nova turned sharply toward the garden.
The flowers were opening everywhere.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
As if the entire garden had suddenly awakened.
Eira followed her gaze.
“Your roses are beautiful.”
Nova’s heart skipped.
For the first time in many years.
The roses had never behaved this way.
Never.
And deep within the oldest part of the mansion, beyond locked gates and forgotten halls, something stirred in the darkness.
Something that had been asleep for a very long time.
Something that had heard Eira’s arrival.
And was finally beginning to wake.
