The king looked out the window, bringing his glance up to the sky, which had turned into a bottomless sea of pure, thick darkness, with no stars to light that deep black ocean. Even the Moon, which used to bravely face against the deep pit known as the night, was too scared to appear between it's veil's waves, drowning under that empty void devoid of stars.

  The faint light of his candle wasn't nearly even enough to convince the shadows to disappear from the corners of the long hallway. Each one of his steps echoed through the whole corridor, filling the silence that reigned supreme, towering over even the sound of his own ragged breathing.

  He walked for what to him felt like hours, even days, yet the hallway seemed to never change. The white walls never changed shape, the windows all looked the same and the red carpet that had been put on the floor years and years before his birth remained of the same crimson color. Every window was the same as the one before and there was no door in sight.

  That was until he saw it. A small, familiar door of dark, ebony wood, with a bronze handle, which the king grabbed and twisted with such a speed that it almost felt as if his own body had moved on its own. The king smiled as he entered the room, a sigh of relief coming out his mouth as he thought he had escaped the never-ending hallway.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Yet, what he found in the room was much more terrifying.

  In the middle of the room, on the spot where her bed was supposed to be, stood a tall and large flower, it's side matching the one of a normal man. It's roots spread all around the floor and walls, the thick, dark brown vines covering the light pink walls, the paintings and the mirrors, creating cracks in them from the sheer weight. From the flower's long and pink petals, crimson blood dripped to the floor, creating a small puddle of blood. On it's stamen, a wide wicked yet beautiful smirk was present and seemed to mock the king, almost trying to hold in a laugh. A creepy, emotionless laugh, only worsened by the lack of eyes in what the monarch recognized as a face.

  Under the creature's shape lied a way too familiar body, beautiful golden hair that resembled the light of Heaven itself, eyes as azure and clear as the infinite oceans that spread across the horizon. Those once kind eyes were now fixed on the evil flower, lost in those non-existent eyes, and blood that was way too dark to be her own ran down the girl's soft, light pink cheek and reached the ground.

  The plant's stamen was fixed in the king's direction, as if trying to grasp and devour his soul, yet before it could open his mouth to speak, the king woke up from his slumber.