Chapter 61: Cradle of Calm - 4
Azareel glanced at her, his brow furrowing slightly. "You think something else is listening?" he asked, his voice soft but curious.
"We know it is," Virelya replied, her coils shifting, her golden eyes narrowing.
Sylvara said nothing, but the way her hand pressed to the ground—gentle, reverent—told him she agreed, her flowering hair rustling faintly as a petal fell.
Still, none of them moved to leave, the garden’s warmth holding them like a fragile promise.
Instead, Azareel bent down again, his fingers tracing the roots’ growth pattern, the vines weaving around a sunken square of stone—flat, firm, central.
"We could build here," he murmured, his voice soft, almost dreamlike. "A hearth. Something small."
"Home," Sylvara whispered, the word hanging in the air like an unripe fruit, heavy with possibility.
By the time the false stars glimmered faintly in the skyless dark, the garden had expanded enough to reclaim what remained of the city, its crimson blooms casting a soft glow that rivaled the absent sky.
Azareel wiped his hands on his linen sash, unaware of the smudges of ash streaked across his pale skin.
He was tired, but not exhausted—a bone-deep weariness that lingered after healing too many wounds, some not his own.
"Where’s Nyxsha?" he asked, his silver eyes scanning the garden, a faint concern flickering in his voice.
"Collapsed somewhere," Virelya said, flicking a stone with her tail, her golden eyes glinting with amusement. "Said she was going to ’watch for intruders’ and promptly fell asleep."