How White Roses Turned Red
An hour after the party ended,
In the fading light of the sunset, I knelt in the Venator mansion's rose gardens. My tan alabaster skin glowed faintly in the twilight, contrasting with my dark, tousled hair that fell gently over my piercing eyes, which gleamed with a blend of ancient wisdom and youthful intensity. I watched intently as a single drop of my blood slid from my finger, hovering momentarily before it fell onto the pristine white petals of a thorned rose bush.
As the crimson droplet met the delicate flower, a slow, mesmerizing transformation began. The petals, once a pristine white, now absorbed the color, turning into a deep, passionate red. The scent of roses, infused with a hint of iron, permeated the air, creating a heady, intoxicating aroma. My expression mirrored the solemn enchantment of the moment, a mix of reverence and melancholy as if the act was a sacred ritual or a poignant memory brought to life.
The gardens around me were a lush, vibrant tapestry adorned with roses in various stages of bloom. The sun, a fiery orb descending beyond the horizon, cast a warm, golden glow over the scene, illuminating the roses and causing the dewdrops on their petals to shimmer like diamonds. The sky, a breathtaking canvas of pinks, purples, and oranges, blended in a stunning display of nature's artistry.
As I knelt there, surrounded by the beauty and tranquility of the garden, I felt a sense of timelessness, as if the moment could stretch on forever. The roses, once white and pure, now bore the mark of my essence, a symbol of my eternal connection to the world of the living and the supernatural. As the evening slowly turned into twilight, I silently contemplated, watching my blood turn the roses red in the dying light of the day.
Footsteps across the stone walkway brought me out of my contemplations. The scent of life and the owner's heartbeat made it known who was approaching. The corner of my mouth curled slightly in a soft smile when she stopped a few feet away. Turning somewhat to my company, I asked, my voice but a whisper in the darkening light of the rose gardens. "Do you know how roses became red, Amica mea angelum?" Twirling the once creamy white rose in my fingers. The thorns piercing my soft palms, the sting of slight pain, reminded me that I was alive. Even though it is with the help of magic, I consider myself alive.
"I can't say that I do. Will you tell me?" Seraphina kneeled. She took my wounded hand, gently removing the now completely blood-red rose as she healed my wounds with what she called her "Healing flames." The warm feeling of her fire never failed to make me smile.
I stood up, took her hand, and kissed her fingers before leading her back into her family's mansion.
"The story goes like this. Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, was known throughout Olympus and the mortal world for her unparalleled charm and allure. Her beauty was said to have no equal, captivating gods and mortals alike. One day, while wandering through the forests of Cyprus, she stumbled upon a sight that made her heart flutter like never before." Pausing in the story, I led inside to the sunroom so we could watch the full moon reach its apex in the night sky. We sat on the sizeable burgundy couch facing the porch.
"Adonis, a mortal of extraordinary handsomeness, was lying peacefully under the shade of an ancient oak tree. His features were chiseled and perfect as if sculpted by the hands of the gods themselves. His hair, dark and thick, framed a face that was both gentle and strong. As he slept, the sunlight filtering through the leaves cast a golden halo around him, making him look ethereal.
Aphrodite, enchanted by the sight, decided to approach him. The moment she laid eyes on Adonis, she knew she was in the presence of someone special. As she drew nearer, the sound of her footsteps on the forest floor roused Adonis from his slumber. He awoke to the sight of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, her eyes shimmering like the sea and her smile radiating warmth and love.
From that moment on, Aphrodite and Adonis became inseparable. Their love blossomed quickly as if it were a flower in full bloom under the nurturing rays of the sun. They spent their days exploring the lush forests, rolling hills, and pristine beaches of Cyprus. They reveled in each other's company, enjoying the simplest pleasures.
Aphrodite introduced Adonis to the world of the gods, taking him to Olympus, where he met the divine beings that ruled over the cosmos. Despite being a mortal, Adonis was treated with respect and admiration, for he had captured the heart of the goddess of love herself. The other gods, though envious, could not deny the purity and intensity of their bond.
One of their favorite pastimes was tending to the magnificent gardens of Cyprus. With her divine touch, Aphrodite could make any plant flourish, and Adonis, with his mortal diligence, nurtured the garden with care and devotion. Together, they created a paradise of flowers and greenery, with roses as their efforts' crowning glory.
The white rose held a special place among the myriad of flowers in their garden. It symbolized their pure and untainted love, its petals as white as freshly fallen snow. Adonis would often pick these roses and present them to Aphrodite, each time with a loving smile and a tender kiss. The white roses became a token of their unblemished love, a love that seemed eternal and invincible.
However, the Fates, those inexorable weavers of destiny, had other plans. Despite his divine connections, Adonis was still a mortal, and his life was subject to the whims of fate. Unknown to the lovers, a prophecy had foretold that Adonis would meet a tragic end, one that would bring untold sorrow to those who loved him.
Aphrodite, in her blissful ignorance, remained unaware of the impending doom. Her love for Adonis only grew stronger with each passing day, as did her desire to protect him from all harm. But relentless and unyielding fate moved ever closer, weaving a tapestry of events that would soon unfold.
One fateful day, Adonis, an avid hunter, decided to venture into the forest in pursuit of a game. Aphrodite, sensing a foreboding in her heart, tried to dissuade him. "Adonis, my love," she pleaded, "stay with me today. The forest can be dangerous, and I have a feeling of dread that I cannot shake."
But Adonis, brave and confident, reassured her with a gentle kiss. "Do not worry, my goddess," he said with a smile. "I will be careful. I promise to return to you before the sun sets."
Reluctantly, Aphrodite let him go, watching as he disappeared into the dense foliage of the forest. She returned to their garden, but her heart was heavy with worry. She spent the day tending to the flowers, trying to distract herself from the unease that gnawed at her soul.
As Adonis hunted, he came across a wild boar, a beast of formidable size and strength. Driven by the thrill of the hunt, he pursued the boar through the forest, unaware of the danger it posed. In a moment of recklessness, Adonis cornered the beast and prepared to strike, but the boar charged at him with all its might in a desperate bid for survival.
Aphrodite, sensing her lover's peril, rushed through the forest, her heart pounding with fear. She arrived just in time to see the boar's tusks pierce Adonis's side, the force of the blow sending him crashing to the ground. Having inflicted its fatal wound, the beast fled into the depths of the forest, leaving Aphrodite alone with her dying lover.
Aphrodite cradled Adonis in her arms, tears falling like rain upon his pale face. "Adonis, my love, stay with me," she whispered, her voice trembling with anguish. But his life was slipping away, and Adonis could only manage a faint smile. "Aphrodite," he murmured, "my time has come. But know that I will always love you."
As the last breath left Adonis's body, Aphrodite let out a heart-wrenching cry, a sound so filled with sorrow that it echoed through the heavens. Her tears, mingled with his blood, fell upon the ground, staining the white roses that surrounded them. The pristine petals absorbed the crimson drops, turning a deep, blood-red hue.
The transformation of the roses was a testament to the depth of their love and the tragedy of their loss. The once white roses, symbols of purity and innocence, were now forever marked by the blood of Adonis and the tears of Aphrodite. They became a living memory of their love, a reminder that their bond remained unbroken even in death.
The story of Aphrodite and Adonis became a legend, a tale of love that transcended the boundaries of life and death. The blood-red roses that bloomed in their garden were revered by all who beheld them, seen as a symbol of eternal love and sacrifice. Lovers from all over the world would come to Cyprus, hoping to catch a glimpse of the legendary roses and to pay homage to the love that had given them their unique color.
Aphrodite, though heartbroken by the loss of Adonis, found solace in the beauty of the roses. She tended to them with care, each flower a reminder of the love they had shared. She would often be seen in the garden, her fingers gently caressing the petals, her eyes filled with a mixture of sorrow and longing.
The gods, moved by the depth of Aphrodite's grief, decided to honor Adonis's memory in their own way. Zeus, the king of the gods, decreed that Adonis would spend half of the year in the underworld in the Asphodel gardens, the roses of the underworld, and the other half in the world of the living with Aphrodite. This way, their love could endure, even if only for a part of the year.
Every spring, when Adonis returned to the world of the living, the gardens of Cyprus burst into bloom, the blood-red roses among the first to blossom. Aphrodite greets him with open arms, her heart filled with joy at their reunion. For those months they are together, their love rekindled as if no time has passed.
When Adonis returned to the underworld, the roses would remain in bloom, a lasting symbol of their love. Though saddened by his departure, Aphrodite found comfort in knowing their love was eternal, bound by the cycles of nature and the gods' decree.
The tale of Aphrodite and Adonis is a story of love, loss, and eternal devotion. The blood-red roses, born from their tragedy, serve as a reminder that love can transcend even the most formidable barriers, leaving a lasting mark on the world. Their legacy lives on in the beauty of the roses and the hearts of those who remember their story, a testament to the power of love and the enduring nature of true romance."
"That was a beautiful story, Amica mea. Where did you learn it?" I could see the story's entirety enthralled Seraphina. Throughout the story, I saw her eyes sparkle like emeralds with fascination. It was adorable.
"There is a book in my mother's library called Flowers' Divine Blessings by a human named Nuntius, although I don't believe that is not their given name. If you wish to read it yourself when we finish my voyage, return it to my mother and your father you may." My offer made her smile like the new day's sun. It was breathtaking.
"I shall take that as a yes, then?" A rapped nod of her head was consent enough for me. I chuckled. Sometimes, she was far too cute for me.
Looking up at the night sky, I watched the full moon illuminate the darkness of the night. Time passed slowly, and soon, I felt a lightweight rest on my shoulder. Looking down, I saw Seraphina's beautiful sleeping face. Her long, dark eyelashes touched her fair cheeks, and long hair framed her face.
I would take her to her bed so she does not catch a cold here later, but I wish to stay like this—just for a bit longer.