Over 3000 years ago a wicked man was scorned on the eve of his wedding by the woman he was to be wed. On the eve of her twentieth birthday and her wedding, a girl ran from her evil fiancé with her lover. This wicked, evil man was gifted in black magic. He cursed the girl and her lover to never find peace as long as they find each other. This is the story of a cursed rose.
An old man watched from a tower, a man and a woman fighting ten soldiers to get to his castles gates. He sighed and turned away from the scene, walking towards a cauldron, a fire lit underneath, in the center of the room. He tossed a couple ingredients into the pot before turning back to a black leather bound book. He checked his facts before picking up the very last additive and giving in a small sniff. He spoke, though he was alone in the room.
"The wench and her lover ran away, so she'll never make it to her twentieth birthday. Until the time comes when they choose not each other, no peace will find them, one life after another. A scorned man's woes are never healed, and with this rose my deal is sealed."
The wrinkled man gave an evil grin, and let the rose in his hand drop into the cauldron.