Émile sat at his desk, staring at the black petal in front of him. It wasn't just a rose. The moment he touched it, he could feel something... off. Something dark.
His study was dim, the candlelight flickering as the wind outside howled. Shelves packed with old books and scrolls loomed around him, but none of them held the answer to the question burning in his mind. Where had this curse come from?
He picked up the petal carefully, feeling its strange pulse again. It wasn't normal. It felt like alchemy—old, forbidden, and far more dangerous than anything he'd dealt with in years. He had spent the last few hours combing through his notes, but nothing quite matched this. The closest he'd come was a theory. The D'Ambroise family. The thought of them left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He leaned back in his chair, frustration building. "An alchemy born from desperation," he muttered to himself, eyes narrowing at the petal. "But who would be reckless enough to—"
A soft sound caught his attention. Footsteps. Late at night, someone approaching his study wasn't a good sign. He instinctively reached for the dagger he kept hidden in his coat.
Before he could move, the door creaked open, and there she was—Liliane Vernisse. Her silver hair caught the dim light, almost glowing against the shadows. She walked in like she owned the place, a thick, old book clutched in her hand.
"You're not one for knocking, are you?" Émile asked dryly, though he wasn't really upset. She had a way of showing up when she was needed—unannounced, yes, but usually with a purpose.
Liliane smiled slightly, stepping inside and closing the door behind her. "I didn't think I needed to. We're already tangled in the same nightmare, after all."
She moved closer to the desk, her eyes landing on the petal. "Still playing with those?"
Émile sighed, rubbing his forehead. "This petal... It's more than just a cursed rose. There's alchemy here, Liliane. Old, twisted alchemy. Whoever is behind this knows exactly what they're doing, and I think I know where it's from."
Liliane raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?"
He gestured toward his notebook on the desk, filled with hasty notes and scribbles. "The D'Ambroise family. You know the stories. They were obsessed with immortality, with dark experiments that crossed lines no one should ever cross. This curse... the roses... it's all connected to them."
Liliane's expression shifted slightly. She placed the old book she was carrying down on the desk, her fingers tracing its worn leather cover. "You're not wrong. I've found something too."
Émile straightened up, curiosity sparking in his eyes. "What did you find?"
"This," she said, opening the book carefully. "It's a record. The D'Ambroise family's final experiment. The one that destroyed them. They were trying to create a bridge—between this world and another. The Ebony Rose wasn't just a tool. It was part of an alchemical ritual."
Émile frowned, staring at the open pages. "A ritual... to grant any desire, for a price."
Liliane nodded. "Yes. They were willing to give up pieces of themselves to achieve it. It cost them everything."
Émile reached out, his fingers brushing against the black petal again. "So, the Ebony Rose... it's real. It's not just a cursed artifact—it's part of an unfinished ritual."
Before Liliane could reply, a cold gust of wind swept through the room. The candlelight flickered, dimming for just a moment, and Émile froze. He felt it—the presence. It was watching them.
Liliane's eyes darted toward the door. "We're not alone."
Émile stood, his hand instinctively reaching for the silver charm hidden beneath his cravat. The presence was faint but unmistakable—something dark, lurking just out of sight.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. The only sound was the faint rustle of the wind outside. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the presence faded, leaving behind an unsettling silence.
Émile exhaled, his muscles relaxing. "We're being watched."
Liliane nodded slowly, her eyes narrowing. "Whoever—or whatever—is behind this isn't going to let us dig too deep."
Émile's expression hardened. "Then we need to dig deeper. The D'Ambroise family left a trail, and I intend to follow it. We're not stopping until we find the truth."
Liliane hesitated for a moment, a rare uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "Are you sure, Émile? Some things... once uncovered, can't be undone."
He looked at her, his gaze steady. "I know. But we don't have a choice."