Beautiful Roses. Bloody Bones.

You want the world, do you? You can have it. For a price.

My ambitions are smaller - though no less grand. I have carved out a corner for me here, and made of it walls of rib and stone, flesh and bone and climbing roses that grow heavy and dark. The scent of old blood and new blossoms fill the air.

And you'll come to me, as all do, and that scent will crash over you. If you aren't strong enough, willful enough, perhaps, then I will have you as my own. Everything you were before washed away by blood-stained rose petals.

Perhaps you will join my wall. Or your skull line my door.

Or I may keep you and call you 'pet'.

Or maybe it's all a trick, and there is no bone wall. Nor roses. Not even the copper tang of spilled blood. And I am away, gone before you can trace me, with only a bit of laughter left behind.

And what you thought was yours...well, I've taken that with me.

You can have the world.

But I will only take it back.