Irena Kirk barely flinched as another drop of crimson traced a path down her temple from the thorny rose crown. He’d warned her it wasn't entirely stable—a touch dramatic, even for Valerius. The floating hearts pulsed with an unsettling energy, and the ghostly figures seemed to grow bolder, circling closer. She smoothed the fabric of her dress, ignoring the prickle of thorns against her skin. This Valentine’s display was…intense. A test of endurance, perhaps? Or a morbid offering? Irena focused on the heart pendant at her throat, a small warmth spreading through her chest; she wouldn't show weakness, not even amidst the spectral chaos and dripping roses.