thorns: a short story of a twisted love



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epilogue

After the strange fire at the Ravanel manor, the townspeople nervously approached the building, spreading out in teams to search for any traces of the killer. The killer, now rumored to be a manservant who had gone mad and turned his weapon on his own master, surely couldn't have gone far, the people reasoned.

One group located a trail of blood leading towards the garden from its back entrance. They followed the trail and arrived at a charred trapdoor, which seemed to house the source of the fire that had set the garden ablaze. Finally, a few brave souls found the courage to enter the remains of the dark cellar. Behind the trapdoor, down the staircase, and inside of the room, they found nothing. There were no traces of anything left behind, be it from the killer or anyone else.

As night began to fall and people began to conclude their search, Eleanor gathered the townspeople and announced that she no longer sensed her magic sigil in this world, meaning that the killer they had marked last night was now dead.

Though some did not believe it, a few townspeople cheered in relief at the conclusion of this nightmare, glad for the opportunity to return to their normal, mundane lives once day broke. As the people dispersed from the rose garden, someone remarked that even the parts of the garden that had not been burnt, had wilted in their entirety. A few people nodded, and murmurs spread throughout the crowd at this strange discovery.

In the moments following this revelation, it was said that an eerily chilling breeze blew through the garden, the wind whistling through the ruins of the shriveled foliage in a sound that resembled a person's voice, a person’s laugh. If you listened closely, perhaps it even resembled the laugh of two people.

FIN