Beneath a pale, restless moon stood a garden where nothing truly lived, yet everything seemed to remember. Twisted vines crawled across ancient graves, wrapping themselves around countless skulls scattered among black and crimson roses. At the heart of the garden stood the Reaper, cloaked in endless darkness, silently watching over his forgotten kingdom. Legend says every rose blooms from a soul that once wandered into the garden seeking something they could never find in life. The black roses carry their sorrow, while the crimson ones preserve their final moments of love, loss, and longing. No birds sing here, and no wind dares disturb the silence. Only the moonlight passes through the clouds, illuminating bones beneath the thorns. Those who enter may hear whispers calling their names. But none should answer, for the Reaper does not merely guard his garden—he welcomes every lost soul who crosses its gate, forever more.