“Qurrah?” the girl asked softly.

“Yes, Tessanna?”

“Do you love your lover?”

“Of course,” he said.

“I believe you,” she said, her back still to him. “But I must know. I must.” She spread her arms wide. Dirt floated upward on a silent wind as all about the creatures of the night fell silent. Qurrah watched as she placed her hands together and arched back her head. Dark magic sparkled on her fingertips.

The wind ceased. Tessanna sighed. She knelt to the grass, turning slightly so that Qurrah could see what she had done.

“A rose,” Qurrah whispered. He stepped closer, mesmerized by the sight. Indeed, it was a rose, but not one of leaf and petal. It was white and ethereal, shimmering above the ground with a sad, drooping head.

“It is a ghost,” Tessanna said, a strange twinkle in her eye. “A ghost of a rose.”

“I was not aware soulless beings could have ghosts.”

“All things have a soul, Qurrah, even flowers and trees and the creatures of the forest. In death, they are more understanding than we. But there are times, very rare times, that a tragedy too great can befall them and bind them here.”

Tessanna swirled the dirt beneath the floating rose. Her smile faded and a black substance glazed over her eyes. A few whispery commands tore pieces of an ancient corpse up from the earth. The pieces whirled together, mingling with the essence of the rose. The stem became bone, the petals rotted strips of flesh. A single flash signified the union of the two. The girl took the rose and held it before her naked chest, her eyes peering at her lover’s. A slow smile crept across her thin, angular face. Her eyes, solid black with only a hint of white at the edges, held him mesmerized.

She offered him the rose. He took it without a thought. Thorns of bone pierced Qurrah’s flesh. Blood ran down his wrist. He opened his mouth to speak but no words would come. All he saw was twisting red petals of a long dead flower.