Thorns Of Roses Miraculous นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The scent of roses clung to the air, thick and sweet, but there was nothing gentle in the garden where Serenya had been cast. The blossoms were not flowers at all—at least not natural ones. Their crimson petals shone faintly under moonlight, shimmering with a sheen like wet blood. Their thorns were long, curved like hooks, and when she reached too close to push aside a vine, it snapped forward, drawing a line of red across her wrist.

From the center of the chamber, a rose emerged, its petals a deep crimson but surrounded by the sharpest of thorns. Elder Aria approached it cautiously, "This is the Thorned Rose of Meranthia. Legend speaks of it, a symbol of love that endures. One of you must prove your commitment, your willingness to endure pain for love." Seraphina hesitated, her thoughts racing. She remembered the times Altair had stood by her, the trust they had built. Without a word, she stepped forward, reaching for the rose. As her fingers brushed against the thorns, drops of blood appeared, but she held on, her gaze unwavering.

The first sign was the roses. They grew overnight—along the forest’s edge—where no roses had bloomed in generations. Black petals. Silver thorns. The air around them shimmered with magic that tasted like blood and broken promises. Selene stood at the treeline, staring. Her wolf stirred uneasily beneath her skin. Elira stepped beside her, lips pressed into a thin line. “They weren’t here yesterday.” Theron crouched low, brushing a finger along a stem. It drew blood instantly.

** The night comes, but without sleep. The file Marcus gave me earlier in the day sits on my desk, its contents a mess of financial statements, grainy photos, and typed out words. Thornesby's face stares up at me from one of the photos-hard, cold, a man who'd seen too much and cared too little. I can only imagine what Vincent needs him for. A power struggle? Revenge? Or something personal?

He carried a large bouquet of roses and looked at me with a mix of regret and longing. "I was blind, Rosie. It felt like I was living in a dream before. Now that I've woken up, I realize I can't live without you." The set fell silent as everyone turned to watch. Allen had no shame declaring this in front of so many people. I felt thankful for having eaten lightly that morning; at least I had not thrown up yet. Allen continued his self-absorbed speech, "Can you give me another chance? Let's start over. We were engaged after all—"

As Madison approached the altar, a radiant smile graced her face, and I was captivated by the love and joy mirrored in her eyes. When the doors opened, my breath caught in my throat. She looked ethereal, a true picture of grace and beauty, as she walked towards me. The intricately designed lace, the flowing veil, and the gentle cascade of her bouquet—every detail was a testament to the careful planning and the dreams we had shared for this special day. As Madison approached the altar, a radiant smile graced her face, and I found myself captivated by the love and joy mirrored in her eyes. The moment was surreal, and I couldn’t believe that this amazing person was about to become my life partn

“While you were away. Lord Rustyn. He brought something from Lady Celia and the queen.” My jaw tightens. But my eyes are on the roses. Even in winter, the cursed things bloom. Blue roses that climb the black stone walls, their petals sharp against the frost. They wither and bloom in ghostly cycles, yet never touch the ground. Always vanishing midair, leaving behind only that sweet and rotten scent. It clings to your throat, making you feel the misery etched deep within it. “Rogues?” I ask, eyes narrowing on a cluster of petals curling into vapor.

The scent of rose and apple blossom is thick in the air as I step out of the woods and into the sunlight. I pick a few roses, stopping to sniff deeply and run my fingers over their velvet petals. Instead of the tears I was sure would start spilling, I smile. Instead of homesickness and that all encompassing uncertainty when it comes to what I believe is my untimely death, I feel… incredibly happy. I feel fine. Whole and well. But then I prick my finger on one of the thorns. “Ouch,” I mumble, sucking on the wound. “You’re not supposed to touch the thorns, silly!”

It was the memory card that he inserted and kept inside his hand. "I'm sorry, Mina. If I didn't protect you and forgive me if I do." I said and gradually peeled off the marked seam on his hand with sharp scissors. It was against my will to do that and I had no right to visit him at his grave because I was able to save him in those moments. After I got the small memory card from him, I also immediately put his grave back in order and I also offered a white rose as a farewell to him and because I know that flower is his favorite. I also left a prayer for him to help us end this crime and punish the people who should be punished, especially the person who did this to him.