Story Notes

i realize now that the info on the flower may seem confusing, so to explain more, i mean who ever is able to hold the flower is when the pollen starts to flow into the air, and what ever the person holding the flower says, the others will believe if they have smelt the flowers pollen long enough. 💟

Summary

They came for the flower. Only one will leave with the truth. When reclusive collector Alistair Vane invites six guests to his private estate to witness the unveiling of the world’s rarest bloom, curiosity quickly turns to suspicion. By dawn, Vane is dead, the priceless flower has vanished, and the gates are locked. Trapped among strangers, each with their own secrets, lies begin to bloom as quickly as the roses in the garden. Every handshake hides an agenda. Every smile could be a lie. And someone is willing to kill to keep the past buried. In this tangled web of wit, deceit, and deadly beauty, the only way to survive is to trust no one… not even the ones reaching out their hand. Important info: The eclipsara bloom is an extraordinary rare flower prized not for legend or magic, but for its unique pollen—one that is able to make anyone who smells it for atleast 30 seconds, have the ability to make people believe anything they want them too, because of the pollens alluring nature. Cultivated in secret by the vane family, this delicate bloom holds the ability to shape modern civilizations as we know it, in ways both good and bad. Its scarcity and promise have made it the ultimate prize—and the cause for a deadly betrayal.

Genre: Mystery

Author: Kenzie🥀

Status: Excerpt

Chapters: 1

Rating: n/a

Age Rating: 18+

+Excerpt+

The rain hadn’t stopped in two days. It hammered the conservatory glass like it wanted in, drowning out every sound except the creak of Mason’s boots pacing behind me.

“Funny,” he said, voice low, “how you were the only one who disappeared during dinner.”

I didn’t turn. “Funny how you keep noticing where I am.”

The Eclipsara’s empty pedestal loomed between us, a pale ring of pollen still clinging to the marble like the outline of a body.

Liora lingered in the doorway, watching us with that fox-like stillness she did so well. “Maybe,” she said, “we’re looking at this the wrong way. Whoever has the flower doesn’t need to run. They just need to talk.” Her eyes flicked to me. “Thirty seconds, and the rest of us will believe anything they say.”

The lights in the glass dome above us sputtered once, twice—then died, plunging the garden into darkness.

Something brushed my arm. A hand? A leaf?

And then, from somewhere in the blackness, a whisper:

“Breathe.”