The sun streamed through the tall windows of Sofia’s workshop, painting the room with fractured rainbows. She leaned over her workbench, her hands steady as she guided a glass cutter across a sheet of cobalt blue. The sound, a sharp skkrrt, was soothing in its familiarity.
This piece was for a cathedral—a grand window depicting the constellations. Sofia loved the quiet intimacy of her work, the way glass caught and transformed light, turning it into something otherworldly.
The bell over the shop door jingled, breaking her concentration. Sofia looked up, expecting her assistant or a delivery. Instead, a tall, elegant woman stepped inside. She wore a tailored black coat and moved with an air of quiet command.
“Miss Sofia?” the woman asked, her voice low and smooth.
“That’s me,” Sofia said, setting down her tools.
“I’m Mara Thorne. I’ve heard about your work and was hoping to commission a piece.”
Sofia wiped her hands on her apron and gestured toward a small seating area near the window. “Of course. Let’s talk.”
Mara sat gracefully, her movements deliberate. There was something magnetic about her—her raven-black hair framed sharp, symmetrical features, and her green eyes seemed to hold a secret.
“I’m looking for something unique,” Mara began. “A stained-glass window depicting two figures entwined in flames. Passion, destruction, rebirth—it should embody all of that.”
Sofia’s brow furrowed. It was an unusual request, but intriguing. “Is it for a personal project?”
“Yes,” Mara replied, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Something very personal. Can you do it?”
Sofia hesitated. She usually worked with traditional themes—saints, nature, celestial designs—but this challenge stirred her creative curiosity. “I can. I’ll need some time for the design, and then we can refine it together.”
Mara leaned forward slightly. “I’d like to be involved in every step.”
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Over the next week, Mara became a regular presence in Sofia’s workshop. At first, her suggestions were insightful. She had a keen eye for detail, pointing out ways to enhance the interplay of color and light. But as the days passed, her involvement became less about the project and more about Sofia herself.
“You’re remarkable,” Mara said one evening, her eyes lingering on Sofia as she worked.
“It’s just glass,” Sofia replied, not looking up.
“It’s more than that. You transform it. You give it life.”
Sofia glanced at her, unsure how to respond. Mara’s gaze was intense, as though she were studying every detail of her face.
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The first unsettling moment came on a quiet evening as Sofia walked home. She had taken her usual route through the park, the path illuminated by flickering lampposts. The sensation of being watched prickled at her, and she turned, but no one was there.
When she reached her doorstep, she found a single black rose lying on the welcome mat.
Sofia picked it up cautiously, its petals velvety and dark. There was no note, no explanation. She glanced around, the street empty and silent, before going inside.
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The next day, Mara arrived at the workshop with her usual enigmatic smile. Sofia considered mentioning the rose but decided against it.
“Is something wrong?” Mara asked, her voice tinged with concern.
“No,” Sofia lied.
Mara reached out, brushing a strand of hair from Sofia’s face. “You can tell me anything, you know.”
Sofia stepped back, her heart quickening. “I need to get back to work.”
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The disappearances began two weeks later. First, it was Ben, a fellow artist who often stopped by to chat. Then Elaine, a gallery owner who had recently shown interest in Sofia’s work. Both vanished without a trace.
Sofia couldn’t ignore the growing sense of dread. Each missing person had been someone who had shown her kindness or admiration. And then there was Mara, whose visits had grown more frequent and whose compliments had turned into declarations.
“They don’t see you the way I do,” Mara said one evening as they stood by the nearly finished window.
Sofia froze. “What do you mean?”
Mara’s smile was serene, but her eyes burned with something darker. “They don’t deserve you. I’m the only one who truly understands you.”
Sofia stepped away, her stomach twisting. “I think you should leave.”
Mara’s expression didn’t change. “If that’s what you want.”
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That night, Sofia woke to the sound of glass shattering. Heart pounding, she crept downstairs to her workshop. The window she had been working on lay in ruins, shards scattered across the floor like a thousand tiny knives.
In the middle of the destruction stood Mara, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Why?” Sofia whispered, her voice breaking.
“I had to,” Mara said calmly. “It wasn’t right. It wasn’t us.”
Sofia backed away. “You’re insane.”
Mara stepped closer, her movements deliberate. “You don’t understand. I’m doing this for you. For us. They were distractions, and this window... it wasn’t what we needed. I’ll help you create something better.”
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Over the next week, Sofia tried to distance herself from Mara, but the woman’s presence was inescapable. She saw Mara’s silhouette in the shadows outside her home, heard her voice in the wind. And then, the notes began to appear.
“You’re mine, Sofia. No one else can have you.”
“We belong together.”
The final note came with another black rose.
“It’s time.”
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Sofia knew she had to act. She spent a sleepless night crafting a plan, using the tools of her trade to create makeshift weapons from shards of glass and metal.
When Mara arrived at the workshop the next evening, Sofia was ready.
“You don’t have to fight this,” Mara said as she stepped inside, her eyes alight with fevered devotion. “I’ll take care of everything. You’ll never be alone again.”
Sofia clenched the glass shard in her hand. “You already ruined my life. I won’t let you take anything else.”
The confrontation was swift and brutal, the workshop becoming a battleground of shattered glass and raw emotion. Sofia managed to wound Mara, the shard slicing across her arm, but Mara’s obsession didn’t waver.
“You’re perfect,” Mara whispered as she bled. “Even now, you’re perfect.”
Sofia fled, her heart pounding, knowing Mara would never stop.
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Weeks later, Sofia tried to return to her life, but the scars of Mara’s obsession lingered. The workshop felt like a prison, every creak and shadow reminding her of what had happened.
One night, as she locked up, she found another black rose on her workbench.
And a note.
“You can’t escape us, Sofia. I’ll always be with you.”
The story ends with Sofia staring at the rose, the sense of dread settling over her like a shroud.