In a fragrant garden shadowed by night, roses bloomed by the moonlight. A ghoul named Spelle, so fair, tended to her special flowers with utmost care. Her eyes gleamed with a deadly charm, a beauty who means to do harm. Unwitting souls wandered near, drawn by the scent of the blooms, they had no fear. A gentle whiff, a fragrant breath, and soon they'd meet a silent death. For Spelle's roses, though they bloom, carry whispers of impending doom. Spelle watches with an eager gaze as her victims fall into a daze. So beware the garden where danger lies; it's Spelle's deadly trap for wandering eyes. Her garden, lush with beauty's veil, conceals an evil within every tale.