A Video is Uploaded to the Site. [The song starts soft. Sweet. Almost embarrassingly earnest. It does not belong here. The camera opens low to the ground, drifting past a hand. Green sleeve. Pale fingers curled inward, as if grasping for something that never came. Then another. Then another. They are everywhere. Hundreds of bodies, all variations on Jade Harley, layered across a ruined expanse that does not quite resolve into a single location. Some lie on cracked marble, others in shallow pools of something reflective that might be water or might be something else. A few are half-suspended, caught in strands of something fibrous and dark, like nerves stretched too thin. The camera keeps moving. The chorus swells. “And they called it puppy love…” A boot steps into frame. Immaculate. White. Not a speck of blood on it. Rose Lalonde stands at the center of it all. She is still. Not in shock. Not in horror. Composed. Her hair is perfectly arranged, each strand placed with surgical precision. Her skin reflects the ambient light in a way that feels wrong, like porcelain that has never been touched. Lavender eyes track nothing in particular. Or perhaps everything at once. The camera begins its slow orbit around her. A Jade with broken glasses lies at her feet. Another nearby still clutches a rifle that never fired. One farther back looks almost peaceful, as if she simply laid down and accepted it. None of them are identical. All of them are her. The music continues, unbothered. “Guess they never knew…” Rose tilts her head slightly as the camera passes her profile. There is no visible strain. No triumph either. Just a quiet, clinical acknowledgment of what has been done. A thin, almost invisible thread extends from her fingertips. It disappears into the mass of bodies, branching, splitting, touching each one in some imperceptible way. Not controlling them. Not anymore. Cataloging. Pruning. Finalizing. The camera completes its arc, revealing the full scope. The horizon is wrong. It curves inward, as if the entire scene is contained within something larger. A curated space. A finished thought. The song reaches its most sentimental point. “Oh, I cried each night for you…” Rose finally moves. One careful step forward. Then another. She does not look down as she walks over them. Not out of cruelty. Out of certainty. There is nothing left to learn from looking. As she passes, the threads retract. The bodies do not decay. They do not vanish. They remain. Resolved. The camera lingers behind her as she walks away, the field of Jades stretching endlessly in every direction. The music fades on a note that was meant to be tender. Here, it feels like a conclusion. Not tragic. Not victorious. Just… complete.] @grimbarkGuardian #NSFWE #GORE
