A black rose

Previously

…He turned then, melting back into the dense undergrowth as silently as he had appeared. Elara watched him go, a strange mix of exhilaration and trepidation coursing through her. The pain of her skin was still there, a dull throb beneath the fabric, but it was overshadowed by a new, tentative warmth. It was the warmth of possibility, the faint echo of a mother’s love, and the quiet promise of a man who saw not a ghoul, but a fragile bloom in need of care. The black dress still felt heavy, but for the first time, Elara wondered if it might, one day, be shed.