Chapter 32: Things that Bloom and Bite - 7
The Abyss had no true mornings, no golden dawn to chase away the shadows, but the garden tried, its vines shifting to part like curtains, revealing a soft, filtered luminescence that bathed the clearing in a warm, ethereal glow.
Mist floated lazily between curling roots, carrying the sweet, unpoisoned scent of dew-kissed petals, the air humming with a quiet life that felt almost defiant in this forsaken realm.
Azareel sat cross-legged amid the blooming expanse, munching on a berry with lazy contentment, its juice staining his lips a faint orange.
A tendril from Sylvara’s garden curled playfully around his wrist, weaving flowers into a bracelet of crimson and gold.
"Pretty," he whispered, his silver eyes, sparkling with wonder as he admired the delicate blooms.
Sylvara knelt nearby, her glowing skin veined with gold and green, her flowering hair cascading like a living veil.
She watched him touch the petals—not with hunger or fear, but with pure, unfiltered wonder.
"You’re the only one who ever says that," she murmured, her voice a soft hum, aching with centuries of unspoken loneliness.
Nyxsha perched on a jagged rock like it owed her tribute, her massive arms crossed, her black fur bristled, her golden eyes twitching at every rustle, every sigh of the vines.
A tendril slithered near her tail, and she crushed it under her paw without blinking, the sap oozing like a warning to the rest.
Virelya lay sprawled across a coil of her own serpentine body on a bed of moss, her porcelain mask cracked with a faint smile, her golden, slit-pupiled eyes half-lidded as she watched Azareel.
She chewed slowly on a berry she’d clearly pilfered from his hand, licking the juice from her lips with lazy satisfaction.