Nyxsha's growl cut through the air like a torch in the dark.
"She's lying," she spat, stepping closer, her claws scraping the earth. Her golden eyes narrowed, glowing with defiance.
"She's devoured travelers, dreamers, priests, fools, beasts—anyone who dared eat her fruit or rest beneath her vines. They called her garden, the Lullaby Grove. The place where breath ends in a whisper."
The trees stood silent, their branches arched like mourners.
The vines didn't stir, as if holding their breath.
Sylvara tilted her head, her amber eyes unblinking, her smile unwavering.
"All of it is true," she whispered, her voice like petals falling on still water.
Nyxsha's tail thumped the ground, sending a ripple through the moss.
"And you, little claw with a big mouth, would have sung the same death lullaby—if not for him." Sylvara's gaze shifted, her eyes locking on Azareel.
He looked up mid-bite, berry juice trickling down his chin, staining his torn robe.
"Mwe?" he asked, his mouth full, his voice muffled and garbled.
"Thisss… ish… very nish…" He swallowed thickly, his silver eyes blinking in confusion, a faint smile lingering as he licked juice from his lips.
Sylvara stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the pulsing earth, her vines trailing like a bridal train.
"Eat first, dear," she said, her voice a gentle hum, like leaves rustling in a breeze that didn't exist.
Azareel nodded gratefully, popping the berry into his mouth, chewing contentedly as if Sylvara's words were a mother's lullaby.
His silver eyes sparkled, his frail frame relaxed, as if he'd never once doubted a stranger's kindness in a place built on betrayal.
Nyxsha stared, a vein twitching in her temple, her claws digging into the moss.
"You absolute feather-chewing idiot," she muttered, her voice thick with exasperation.
Her tail lashed, knocking a berry from a bush, its glow dimming as it rolled into the shadows.
Sylvara's smile deepened, her amber eyes fixed on Azareel, not Nyxsha's frustration, but on the soft crunch of his chewing.
It was a hymn to her, a melody that stirred the garden's pulse.
Her vines quivered, her flowering hair blooming brighter, petals unfurling in response to his presence.
For a moment, beneath her seductive beauty and predatory hunger, something raw flickered in her eyes—a longing, a need, as if Azareel's warmth had awakened something deeper than her appetite.
And then, subtly, she bloomed.
A soft glow pulsed through her skin, her vines curling closer, not to trap but to touch, as if drawn to the light he carried.
The garden hummed, its trees leaning closer, its moss softening underfoot, as if Sylvara and her domain were singing back to the angel who refused to fear them.
Nyxsha's growl softened, her golden eyes flicking between Sylvara and Azareel.
Her tail twitched, curling slightly toward him, a silent claim.
She didn't trust the Dryad's smile, but Azareel's oblivious trust—his infuriating, impossible kindness—was changing something, even here, in the heart of a hungry garden.
much
much
much
Azareel's chewing echoed through the garden, a soft sound that seemed to ripple through the air.
The glowing orange berry burst between his teeth, juice dribbling down his chin as he smiled, eyes half-closed in blissful contentment.
His legs were crossed beneath him, his torn robe patched with Nyxsha's linen scraps, as if he were meditating on the taste of peace itself.
The garden held its breath, its vines quivering, its moss pulsing faintly, as if every leaf and root hung on his next bite.
Ahh~~
"This is really, really good," Azareel said, his voice sincere, wiping his chin with a tattered sleeve.
"Thank you for feeding me. I hadn't eaten anything warm since I fell."