Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement was intended.

Chapter One: Rose-colored Dreams

In the quiet of the night, a familiar dream crept towards Bella through the fogginess of slumber.

She appears standing in the center of a narrow passage, her eyes staring forward into an impenetrable darkness. Twin metal torches in the walls beside her, with flames that hiss and crackle in the silence, provide the only source of light. Her dream self does not hesitate to grab the handle of one of these torches, allowing an illumination to encircle her form in a warm and radiant halo. Okay, she thinks, now I need to find my way out of here. Exploring the heavy gloom will be less trouble as long as she has her light.

Determined, Bella takes a brave step forward, and then another, and then another one. Clad in a thin, cotton dress that's pure as freshly fallen snow, with a circlet of white roses lying on the crown of her head, it can be said that her appearance is as evocative as a maiden walking to a ritual sacrifice, or like an angel entering the gateways of Hell.

-x-x-x-x-x-

Despite the walk that seems like it would never end, Bella soon gets the sense that she's close to her destination. Her feet, bare but hidden behind the hem of her dress, shuffles to a sudden stop in front of a magnificent set of ebony doors. They stand tall, emanating an aura that is both alluring and dangerous. It's a feeling that makes its way through her skin and into her veins, chilling the blood there in seconds. There follows an uncertainty in her movements, a hesitation that keeps her from reaching the golden handle right above her head. As if sensing her reluctance, the doors creak open on their own accord, revealing the horrors that await her.

Splattered against ivory walls and gathered in a lake in the middle of the grand room, blood stains the air with a copper stench. The liquid stays eerily frozen, though the opening of the doors would have typically allowed it to leak out into the hallway. The sight of so much blood in one place should terrify Bella to her core, but instead, a calm indifference settles inside her heart and mind. This scenario has the feeling of a natural occurrence in her life.

Turning her gaze away from the blood that lingers near her feet, Bella stares ahead at the scene before her. Rows upon rows of mahogany benches, centered in the heart of the room, greet her curious eyes. Each bench parallel to the one beside it, the seats are packed full with people who remain silent and still at her entrance. Their attention is focused on the display before them; a display that soon captures Bella's complete attention as well.

Standing above the lake of blood on a marble dais, three figures watch her from afar. Bella shudders, realizing now that the earlier aura of enthralling danger she felt came from these figures. A side of her, something that's more carnal and instinctive in nature, knows who these three are; however, in the scopes of her dream she couldn't see their features from this distance.

Without another moment of hesitation, Bella steps into the lake and immediately sinks to her ankles in the tepid blood. The liquid, now soaking into the cotton of her dress, does not disturb her nor deter her from taking another step. Nothing can persuade her to stop. In the end, it's no longer a desire to find what her soul yearns for, but a burning need.

So distracted by this need she doesn't notice the bouquet of scarlet roses that materializes in her open hand. Alongside the bouquet also comes the death of her rose circlet; the snow-white roses entwined in the silver band wilts the further she glides through the blood lake. The petals darken into an unseemly brown before hardening up and eventually cracking off from the stems. They drift down to the burgundy waters waiting below, floating on top like the tossed petals of a phantom flower girl.

The guests on the benches, haunting in their gorgeous features and regal cloaks, watch Bella proceed down the aisle with varying expressions. Some in delight, others in disgust; all in expectation. Each pair of eyes takes in the view of her blood-stained form and dead roses with stony expressions of approval.

Bella glances at them from the corners of her eyes, taking note of the respect they give her, before focusing once more on the three figures in front. Now, she's close enough to see this trio of power who ensnare everyone's attention. They're women, she realizes with a start, though a subconscious part of her had known this fact already.

The women stand on the edge of the platform with rays of moonlight embellishing their lovely faces in an ethereal radiance. Hanging from their necks are gold chains with a small crest in the shape of a sharp V. At the upper and lower parts of the emblems are cut rubies, caught in the pale light of the moon, showing a mirage of miniature flames flicking inside the jewels. Memorized, Bella trails her gaze up until she's eye-to-eye with these feminine creatures.

The first, standing to the left, is the shortest in the trio. Perhaps even more so than Bella herself, which surprises her since she grew up being the shortest in her family and all of her classes. Noting the way she's being sized up in a thorough manner, the woman flashes Bella a devilish grin as her eyes sparkle with a mischievous glint. Rolling a slender finger around a strand of her raven-black curls, she lets out a playful giggle before shooting a wink at her admirer, sending Bella's heart into quick spasms with a hot blush to match. Driven shy by the bold flirtation, she moves onto the next woman.

Her place in this trio proves to be an obvious one; she's the centerpiece. A palpable feeling of power radiates from her being in waves. It hints at natural cunningness, and a willful cruelty if need be. Such an impression clashes with her charming appearance; golden hair tied up into an elegant bun, framing her sharp, oval face into an entrancing view, and her décolletage on shameless display. In a slow manner, with a smirk of knowing, the woman crosses her arms over her exposed cleavage and raises an eyebrow as Bella's face drops in disappointment. "Soon," she mouths with lips that are full and red; lips that call to more sinful desires. Bella swallows hard, and then finally looks at the last member of the three.

Positioned just to the right, this woman is the tallest with silver locks dropping to her shoulders in curled spikes. She carries herself in the strict nature of a general, though she too has a hint of mischievousness glowing behind her cool stare. Hands held behind her back in a disciplined way, she looks Bella up-and-down in a manner that resembles a predator sizing up its prey. It feels like a direct challenge; it's a test for Bella to either stand her ground or to submit to a stronger force. The pressure to give in grips her pounding heart, but Bella holds steadfast. She stares back at the woman, her chest puffing up just a slight. Seemingly impressed by this show of resilience, the platinum-haired woman gives her a sly nod and even slyer smile.

Sensing that she's been holding her breath this entire time, Bella relaxes and contemplates this moment. It's apparent that each one of these women is unique in their own ways, but something about them did have common ground. It's their eyes, she thinks. They're the same color as the rose bouquet in her hands, just far more beautiful. The mere sight of them stuns Bella into place, producing warm shivers that slither up her spine. The women's lips curl into persuasive smiles, their amusement at her hesitancy apparent, as they hold out their left hands to her in synchronization.

Standing near the three steps where the women wait, Bella looks over her shoulder at the entrance. The doors remain open still, an obvious escape if she desires to leave this seductive madness. Somehow she knows that no one in the room will try to stop her from leaving. The decision is ultimately being left up to her.

She turns back to the women, who watch her in silence, their composed expressions taking on a desperate tinge with the passing time. Enjoying the subtle control she now has in the situation, Bella gifts them with reassuring smiles, which they return with pleased smiles of their own. This decision, she reflects, was made a long time ago. Thus, nothing could change it now.

Lifting a bloody foot, Bella places it on the first step. As if on command, the wilted rose circlet on her head springs to life within seconds. Dark buds inch out from the vines, growing and spreading to mature black roses which releases the sweetest scent into the air, causing everyone in the crowd to sigh with pleasure. Bella moves on to the second step, her feelings of determination more resilient than ever due to this new development.

Immediately, the white color of her dress darkens into a ghastly brown. It's like a dying flower, gaining the texture of something both hard and fragile. Spreading to every inch of the cotton fabric, a cracking sound pierces the quiet with an ominous echo that reverberates off the marble walls. Stunned, everyone observes as the dress begins to break apart piece-by-piece, replaced by black silk that grows from the white remnants of the previous garment. The silk trails down Bella's naked body in smooth waves, the hem almost touching the lapping edge of the blood at the bottom stair. Pulled over the ebony silk is crimson lace, worked into detailed patterns of intertwining roses and thorny vines that enhance the beauty of the overall design.

Previously hush out of respect, the guests watching from the benches cannot help their sudden whispers of this unexpected turn-of-events. A few in the crowd even twist their mouths at the sight, their cavernous eyes narrowing as they glare at Bella with unrestrained envy. In the darkest corners of her mind, Bella gloats at the fact that the dress she wore now is far more stunning than the dress she began with. In the joy of the moment, she tosses the rose bouquet in her hands over her shoulder to the first row behind her. Animalistic shrieks follow as some of the women up front rush forward to grab the coveted bouquet first.

Rotating her eyes back to the three women, Bella smirks and tilts her head coyly at them. The golden-haired leader shakes her head in amusement before extending her luminescence hand for Bella to grab. Taking the upturned palm with her left hand, Bella climbs the last step to her hidden fate. It is at that moment she notices the arched pavilion behind the women, with its dark velvet curtains and black roses spiraling around the rigid poles. From what she can see, only shadows linger in the space; no doubt, to snatch up any creatures of light into the suffocating gloom.

The instant both her feet are on the dais, the trio leads her away, past the curtains of the pavilion so that the group falls into darkness. Even the light from the moon cannot penetrate this space, leaving only surrounding shade and a cool emptiness. Bella doesn't feel frightened though. These shadows are a comfort to her; soft and soothing as they are, like a blanket from childhood.

In one swift motion, the hand clutching hers twists her around and pulls her back into the inviting arms of the woman who had guided her up the final stair. Her embrace is an intimate one, layered with light kisses along the curve of Bella's neck. Two other pair of hands soon reach for her as three mellifluous voices whisper into her heightened ears, "You're getting closer, our love. Just continue to follow the trail of roses."

Bella opens her mouth to ask them about this trail, but an abrupt flare of light piecing through a crack in the closed curtains sidetracks her thoughts. Feeling herself being pulled away from the darkness and backed into the light, she relishes in the sensation of the trio's hands on her one last time while snuggling closer in the arms that clung onto her.

"Don't worry. I'll find you," she whispers back.

-x-x-x-x-x-

The dream fades away, dissolving under the light like a shadow.