A prince cursed to turn into stone by day falls for a gardener tending the magical roses in his castle grounds. Together, they seek the key to breaking the curse before it's too late
A prince cursed to turn into stone by day falls for a gardener tending the magical roses in his castle grounds. Together, they seek the key to breaking the curse before it's too late
Prince Alistair stood in the garden of his castle, his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the first rays of the morning sun began to stretch across the sky. He could feel it already-the cold tightening in his limbs, creeping up his spine like a silent thief. The warmth of his human form would soon fade, replaced by the stillness of stone.
It had become his routine, this slow, inevitable transformation. The curse that bound him to the stone form every morning had not been kind. There had been no warning, no mercy. One day he had simply woken, and the sun had not only burned away the night but his very freedom as well. By day, he was nothing more than a statue, a monument of stone standing rigidly in the palace courtyard. But by night, when the moon rose high in the sky, he was restored to his human shape-alive, aware, but only for a few fleeting hours before the curse claimed him again.
His fingers twitched, but the stone creeping up his skin held them stiff, unwilling to move. He looked down at the stone veins spreading across his hand, the transformation slowly, inexorably taking hold. He could hear the distant hum of the castle, the hustle and bustle of his kingdom continuing as if nothing were wrong. But it wasn't the same for him. His life had been paused in an eternal struggle between moments of life and stone, his heart cursed to love and be loved by none.
His eyes flicked toward the garden, where the roses-magical roses, or so the old legends claimed-grew wild and unkempt. Their petals shimmered faintly in the early morning light, their fragrance rich with the promise of something beyond the mundane, something that had long intrigued him.
A figure moved between the rosebushes-a gardener, he noticed, working diligently amidst the flowers, trimming and tending to the plants. She wore no crown or jewels, no silk gown like the ladies of his court. Her clothes were simple-earthy tones of brown and green, a stark contrast to the gleaming castle walls behind her. But there was something captivating about her movements, something graceful in the way she bent to the earth, as though she belonged more to the roses than the castle.
It was only when the sun began to rise higher, casting deeper shadows across the stone courtyard, that the transformation began to take hold of him fully. The last vestige of his human warmth slipped away, and he felt himself stiffen, his body locking in place as if frozen in time.
Alistair knew that if he did not leave the garden soon, the curse would claim him completely, turning him into an unmoving statue for the rest of the day. But something about the gardener's presence kept him rooted to the spot. Perhaps it was the way she worked so tirelessly, lost in the rhythm of tending the roses. Or perhaps it was the unspoken connection he felt, a pull that had been there since she had first arrived at the castle weeks ago.
Her name, he knew, was Elara. She had been hired by the king to maintain the enchanted garden that had been a part of the castle grounds for centuries. The garden was more than just a place of beauty-it was said that the roses held strange and powerful magic, and some even whispered that they were the key to unlocking long-lost secrets of the world.
Elara was a mystery. While the rest of the court gossiped about her, questioning her origins and her purpose, she remained quiet, focused only on her work. Her gentle hands caressed the petals with a tenderness that seemed at odds with the hard labor she performed, yet she never faltered, never seemed to tire.
Alistair's heart sank as he watched her, knowing he couldn't stay much longer. The moment the sun crested fully over the horizon, he would turn to stone, unable to move, to speak, to feel. It was a fate that had imprisoned him for years, and there seemed to be no way out.
But something changed that morning. Just as the last of the warmth drained from his body, leaving him cold and unmoving, Elara looked up. Her eyes met his for the briefest of moments, and for the first time in weeks, Alistair felt something stir within him-a flicker of recognition. Her gaze lingered on him longer than expected, her brow furrowing in confusion as if she, too, felt the strange pull between them.
The moment was short-lived. The sun crested high enough that the curse took full effect. Alistair could feel his body lock, the stone replacing flesh, his breath no longer able to draw. His vision blurred as he stood motionless, unable to do anything but watch as Elara's form slowly disappeared from his view.
The hours dragged by. He stood in the garden, no longer a man, but a figure of cold marble. The world passed around him-nobles strolling by, birds chirping, the sounds of the kingdom continuing as they always did. But for him, time had ceased to exist. He was neither alive nor dead, caught in the endless loop of his curse.
When the sun finally began to set, a chill in the air signaling the night's approach, the transformation reversed. His body began to soften, the stone receding as warmth returned to his limbs. He inhaled deeply, his chest expanding as his lungs filled with air. He was human again.
But Elara was gone.
He had spent the entire day as stone, his thoughts consumed with her-her presence, her gaze. She had noticed him, truly noticed him, for the first time. He couldn't help but wonder what she thought of him now, what she might say when they next met.
For a moment, he allowed himself the small luxury of hope. Perhaps, just perhaps, she was more than just a gardener. Perhaps she was the key to breaking the curse that held him captive in stone.
And if she was, he would find a way to reach her.
In a kingdom where nobles wear enchanted masks that define their roles and status, the protagonist-a commoner with the rare ability to craft living masks-becomes entangled in palace intrigue when they are commissioned to create a mask for a reclusive prince cursed never to see sunlight. As the protagonist works on the mask, they uncover a hidden world of magic, betrayal, and a growing bond with the prince. Their love becomes the key to breaking the curse, but doing so could destabilize the entire kingdom. Together, they must navigate a treacherous path where one wrong move could mean losing not just their love, but their lives.
The night Claire Richards caught her husband cheating, she planned her revenge. She transferred billions in hidden assets, gathered undeniable proof of his affair, and destroyed the mistress's reputation. When Claire handed Lucas Bennett the divorce papers, he tore them to pieces. "Divorce? Not a chance!" Lucas snapped. But Claire only smiled. "The waiting period is over, Mr. Bennett. You're out." Sharp, stunning, and done playing nice, Claire steps into a world dominated by two powerful men: her furious ex-husband and the cold, mysterious CEO feared by all. But this time, she's calling the shots. Watch as a clear-headed woman takes control, turns heartbreak into strength, and brings the man who once cast her aside to his knees.
Isabelle Everett's perfect life crumbles when her billionaire husband, Damion Ryder, serves her divorce papers on their anniversary. Betrayal, heartbreak, and deceit propel her into a six-year journey of self-discovery. Now, with secrets exposed and old flames rekindled, Isabelle must choose between the man who broke her heart or her high school sweetheart, the one who's always loved her but has an ulterior motive. Will forgiveness transform their lives, or will the past destroy their future?
My fiancé, Richard Ahmed, had been unfaithful. His mistress, Eva Marsh, sent me a provocative video. In the video, Richard and Eva were passionately kissing, while his friends cheered loudly, "You two are perfect for each other. You should get married." Richard's parents were holding Eva's hand, saying, "You're the only one we see as part of the family." I let out a cold laugh and dialed the number of my father, the head of a criminal syndicate. "Get in touch with a team for me. I have a live stream event planned." "Alright. The condition is that you return to Zlomont and become the new head of the Brooks Group."
For four years Madelyn had been with Bryson, yet he never once claimed her in public. Barely a month after meeting that other girl, he surged from casual dates to announcing her as his fiancée. He lavished her with gifts and praise, going on about her innocence and simplicity-subtle digs meant for Madelyn's ears alone. She merely smiled, quietly planning her escape from his world. But when the other guy woke up, Bryson came to her doorstep, falling apart entirely. He clutched Madelyn's hand, his voice raw with panic. "Think you can run back to your ex? Dream on-you're mine, now and always."
Sunlit hours found their affection glimmering, while moonlit nights ignited reckless desire. But when Brandon learned his beloved might last only half a year, he coolly handed Millie divorce papers, murmuring, "This is all for appearances; we'll get married again once she's calmed down." Millie, spine straight and cheeks dry, felt her pulse go hollow. The sham split grew permanent; she quietly ended their unborn child and stepped into a new beginning. Brandon unraveled, his car tearing down the street, unwilling to let go of the woman he'd discarded, pleading for her to look back just once.
Noelle was the long-lost daughter everyone had been searched for, yet the family brushed her off and fawned over her stand-in. Tired of scorn, she walked away and married a man whose influence could shake the country. Dance phenom, street-race champ, virtuoso composer, master restorer-each secret triumph hit the headlines, and her family's smug smiles cracked. Father charged back from abroad, mother wept for a hug, and five brothers knelt in the rain begging. Beneath the jeweled night sky, her husband pulled her close, his voice a velvet promise. "They're not worth it. Come on, let's just go home."
© 2018-now CHANGDU (HK) TECHNOLOGY LIMITED
6/F MANULIFE PLACE 348 KWUN TONG ROAD KL
TOP