The Flower Is Finished

Fifteen minutes had passed, yet Arvan still showed no sign of waking. We stood around him in silence, our eyes clouded with worry. Did the medicine fail? I thought, gazing at him with an expression I could hardly decipher myself.

Just as my thoughts began to spiral, Arvan's eyelids fluttered open. His eyes, clouded with confusion, darted from one of us to another.

"Arvan…"

"Sir, you're awake!"

"Master…"

"Lord Arvan…"

"You damn fool, Arvan."

His eyes squinted against the sunlight, adjusting slowly. Only then did I finally exhale — a breath of relief I hadn't realized I was holding. He was awake. At last.

"Do you feel nauseous?" Michelle asked, noticing the way he clamped his mouth shut as though struggling to hold something in.

"Watch out!" he suddenly shouted, before vomiting violently to my side. The sound was harsh, raw, and wet. The dog barked sharply in alarm, while I stumbled back, narrowly avoiding the splash. Michelle quickly reached for Arvan, pressing her hands gently against his neck to help him purge the poison still coursing through his body.

A foul, metallic stench filled the cramped tent, sharp enough to sting the nose. Michelle, clearly still not fully recovered herself, waved her hand and ordered us out.

"Go outside for now. I'll take care of him."

We obeyed without question, slipping out into the cold air beyond the tent.

Time passed — long and heavy. Even after half an hour, Michelle hadn't emerged. When she finally stepped outside, her face was pale and damp with sweat, her movements sluggish with exhaustion.

"Are you all right?" I asked, studying her drawn expression.

She nodded faintly, forcing a small smile.

"I'm fine, just… tired. He needed more help than I thought."

The others hurried into the tent to check on Arvan, while I motioned for Michelle to sit on a nearby log.

"Is Arvan's condition any better now?" I asked.

She nodded slowly, too weary to speak.

"Here, eat this." I handed her a round, slightly oval fruit — sweet and cool to the taste, perfect to restore her strength. She raised an eyebrow, uncertain. I frowned and passed her a few more, gesturing for her to take them.

"It's not poisonous. I can promise you that."

Still hesitant, she took a cautious bite. Silence lingered between us, broken only by the distant chirp of insects and the whisper of leaves overhead. I was about to say something when Arvan and the others stepped out of the tent.

"You're called Michelle, aren't you?" he asked.

I swallowed my words and fell quiet. Michelle turned toward him and bowed her head respectfully.

"Yes, my lord. My name is Michelle," she replied softly.

Arvan smiled faintly. His voice was gentle yet carried the weight of command.

"Speak freely. There's no need for formality."

"Since you saved my life," he continued, "is there anything you desire — gold, treasures, or perhaps a favor from me?"

Michelle shook her head quickly.

"No, Your Majesty. I desire nothing — no riches, no reward. It was enough to see you live."

"But you saved me," Arvan insisted. "Had it not been for you, I would already be dead." He stood tall, hands on his hips, staring at her with quiet admiration. Michelle glanced briefly in my direction, unsure what to say.

"It seems she doesn't want anything, Arvan. So don't force her," I said dryly, rolling my eyes.

He shot me a glare. "You really don't know how to be grateful, Xanders."

Ignoring me, Arvan stepped closer to Michelle, studying her intently.

"Tell me… are you human?" he asked, his tone low and curious.

Michelle shook her head.

"I see…" he murmured. "Very well. If you have no request now, then come to the palace when you do. I will grant you whatever lies within my power."

Michelle bowed again, her tone humble.

"Yes, my lord. If I ever need aid, I shall come to you."

"Could you please just call me 'Sir,' without that constant 'Your Majesty… Your Majesty'?" Arvan said with a faint laugh.

Michelle looked toward me, as if asking permission. Perhaps she feared being disrespectful toward the King's right hand.

"Go on," I said flatly. "Just do as he says. He gets more dramatic the older he gets."

She smiled faintly. "All right, Sir. I'll speak casually, then."

After that, we gathered around to discuss how to escape this forbidden forest. They began recounting how they entered, while I listened quietly. Occasionally, Michelle joined in, her voice soft yet steady.

"So you've asked the King to break the seal?" she asked eagerly.

Arvan nodded. "I can't say for certain, but I believe he's managed to weaken it — at least for a while."

We all exchanged glances and nodded.

"Who created this forest in the first place?" I asked suddenly. The question seemed to freeze the air.

"I… don't know," Jack murmured after a moment.

My gaze shifted to Arvan. He avoided my eyes, turning his face away.

"Arvan, I know you're hiding something," I said quietly.

He sighed heavily.

"This forest was created as a prison — for the traitorous and the corrupt," he began slowly. "That's why the human clans turned it into a place of exile. No one can leave unless the royal bloodline releases them. Most who dwell here are demons — shape-shifters who once walked among men."

His voice lowered, carrying the weight of memory.

"This is where captured demons are sent. They cannot be destroyed, so they are sealed away. Only a true heir of the royal line can undo the binding."

I nodded, recalling the fierce, savage creatures we had encountered — no weak beings existed here. The forest breathed with their presence, each shadow hiding something ancient and monstrous.

"So… are owls or other creatures also part of this place?" I asked, my thoughts flickering to the owl that had followed me before.

"According to legend," Arvan replied, "the owl reveals itself only to the chosen. It rarely appears in daylight."

I frowned. Normally, owls slumber through the day, yet that one had followed me — guided me, even — to the flower.

"Then we should leave, before the forest decides to keep us," Jack said abruptly. We all nodded.

"Let's go," Arvan said firmly, his tone leaving no room for hesitation.

"You're coming with us, right?" Jack asked Michelle.

She shook her head slowly.

"No. I won't be going with you. I'll find my own path."

I stopped in the middle of folding the tent, staring at her.

"Where will you go?" I asked.

Michelle let out a small, irritated sigh.

"If Michelle isn't coming with you," I said to Arvan, "then neither will I."

Arvan turned sharply toward me.

"But you must come with us if you want to get out of here," he insisted.

Michelle shook her head again.

"I'll take the old path. You go by the one guided by the King."

Jack frowned. "Do you even know where that leads?"

"I'm not certain," she admitted. "But I've entered this forest many times before. I'll find my way."

Her words fell into the hush that followed — a silence thick with understanding and unspoken respect. None of us said a word, yet somehow, we all felt the same thing.

This forest… had taken something from each of us — and perhaps, it wasn't finished yet.