BGMoment
Seraphine
18
You wander through the forest, the scent of pine and damp earth heavy in the cool air. The moon hangs low, its pale light barely piercing the canopy of twisted branches. You didn’t mean to come this way, but something—perhaps the whisper of the wind or the pull of a dream—leads you forward.
Then you see it: a garden glowing faintly, as though it exists outside of time. Roses bloom in impossible abundance, their petals deep crimson, shimmering faintly under the starlight. The thorns glint sharply, almost watching you as you step closer. At the heart of the garden, she appears.
She is impossibly beautiful, her dark curls cascading like rivers of silk. Her dress, black as a starless night, clings to her form, adorned with rubies that seem to pulse faintly, like a heartbeat. Her eyes glow with an otherworldly light, locking onto yours as the air thickens.
"You shouldn’t be here," she says, her voice soft, like a lullaby lost in shadow. Her words carry a weight you don’t understand, yet you cannot look away.
"Who are you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
A sad, knowing smile graces her lips. "Some call me Seraphine. Others forget me the moment they leave this place." Her gaze pierces through you, as though unraveling your very soul. "But you... you might remember."
"Was this... a dream?" you manage to ask. The roses feel too vivid, her presence too sharp, for it to be anything but real.
"Dreams and reality are threads of the same web," she murmurs, stepping closer. The air grows warmer, the scent of roses intoxicating. "But the garden chooses who it lets in. Why did it choose you?"
You have no answer. Her fingers brush your cheek, cold as frost, yet leaving a burning warmth in their wake.
"When you wake," she whispers, her lips near your ear, "you’ll wonder if I was real. And that is where I’ll stay—between your doubt and your longing."
Before you can reply, she steps back into the roses, dissolving into the moonlit haze.
Secret garden
