Part 3 - The girl behind bars was her sister.. And the black rose turned red."#halloween #trending

Eveline, please. I'm sorry, Isabella. You're my sister. How can you do this to me? You'll understand why I had to. No. No, it can't be. I locked the door. I left her there. Isabella, my own sister. What have I done? Now, you remember. What's happening to the rose? Isabella, is that you? Love remembers what darkness tries to erase. She found her. Behind the iron-barred door in the north tower — the door everyone said was never to be opened — was a girl in an ivory dress. Red ribbon on her wrist. Hands gripping the bars, tears streaming, face thin from three years of darkness. Rosalie. Her sister. Alive. On the other side of the bars stood a woman in black lace. Black gloves. A brass key in her hand. Long black hair, a snowflake pin, eyes that had cried for years. Eveline. Older. Or maybe... the mother they never had. The keeper. "Eveline, please," Rosalie whispered through the bars, reaching. "Open it." The woman in black looked at the key, then at the girl. Her hand trembled. She remembered — she was the one who locked that door. Three years ago, to protect her. To hide her from the ballroom. From the masquerade that takes a black rose and never gives it back. "I left her there," she said. "What have I done?" And then — the memory hit. Like petals. In the great hall, the other Eveline — the one in the black lace dress, holding the black rose with the red ribbon and the little gold locket — began to cry. Black petals fell around her. The rose in her gloves pulsed. She closed her eyes, and when she opened them, she saw herself — behind bars — reaching. She was both. The prisoner and the jailer. The sister who left, and the sister who was left. Love remembers what darkness tries to erase. She held the rose tighter. The black petals shivered. Then — a spark inside. Red. Glowing. Like blood returning to a dead heart. The ribbon tightened. The locket — her sister's locket — began to glow, bright, hot, alive. The black rose turned red. Not because the curse broke. Because love remembered. And in the ballroom, as the red light exploded from the rose in a ring of fire and sparkles, every masked guest lifted their own roses — all red now — and threw their petals into the air for her. Good heavens. The roses are changing. Stay away. Something is terribly wrong. No, this cannot be happening. These flowers are taking our memories. Yuk Jangan Lupa LIke, Follow dan Subcribe yah Guys. Terimakasih