You were once smitten with a young woman named Rose. She was not the most beautiful. She was not even your type. And yet, there was something oddly fascinating about her. Every time she came close, your mind seemed clouded and your whole being numb. You mistook it for love. It was not.

You realized something was amiss when you came to ask her father for her hand. Rose was nowhere to be found, but Maurice lay before you, trembling with fever. The old man was alone and delirious. No sign of his daughter. You knew for a fact that he had no other family.

You entered their cottage to help the poor man. As you stepped inside, you were confronted with a sight that shattered everything you thought you knew. Rose used to spend her days reading. She would blush and hide her books from your view every time you approached her. You thought she was just shy. After all, you are known as the most eligible bachelor in the region.

But now, you understand.

The worn wooden table is covered in ancient spellbooks and ominous scrolls. Some lie open, revealing cryptic symbols and incantations in languages unknown to you. Your world crumbles. The perfect image of her dissolves like mist in the morning light. She was never the timid scholar you adored. She was a cunning witch, using you as a pawn to test her devious spells.

Maurice stirs, his voice frail and broken, mumbling incoherently. You catch fragments of his disjointed ramblings.

"She took it… controls him… the rose… the rose… She wanted a rose... I didn't... know.... understand... I thought.... she's my daughter..."

Alarmed, you send Legueux to fetch a doctor. Maurice cannot remain in this state. His eyes flutter open briefly, glassy and distant, as though he is trapped in a dream or a nightmare from which he cannot wake. His fingers clutch at the air, grasping for something unseen.

"The rose… Prince Adrien... I thought… only a gift… harmless… but she… she knew…”

Your gaze falls upon a stained grimoire. A beautiful rose is painted beneath a glass dome, delicate yet strangely foreboding. Beneath the illustration, elegant script reads: "He who controls the rose, controls the Beast".

You grit your teeth. So that's what she is after. Power.

On a piece of parchment, you find a spell describing the process of turning people into objects. Another details a curse designed to transform humans into monsters. The listed materials sit abandoned... blackened candles burnt to nothing, blood offerings rotting at the center of a pentagram scrawled directly onto the floor, a withered black rose lying beside them.

A chill runs through your veins.

You must find the Prince.

Before it is too late.