Anthesis of Sadness

Lysara was looking at me. She had drunk in turn. And she was smiling—a true smile. That of a child tasting light for the first time.

I drank again, slowly. The wine flowed down like a river of warm ashes. I was in no hurry. I had time.

And then, the feast began.

Twenty minutes passed before the waiter returned with the starter.

The silence between Lysara and me was gentle, almost sacred.

— Here is the Soup of Old-Root and shredded Abyssium fillet.

He set the black cup down before me, steaming, fragrant. Fine glitter floated there like glyphs.

— An infusion for lucidity. The heat soothes, but also awakens what we hide. Drink slowly, it is alive.

I took a spoon, tasted it.

The taste... was strangely clear. As if each aroma wanted to speak. I felt my thoughts arranging themselves, my memories lighting up.

Lysara dipped her lips in hers, then closed her eyes.