Her room was lit by candlelight and filled with books older than most countries. The window looked out onto the garden — or what Kael called the garden. It sprawled like a fever dream: roses the color of fresh blood, vines that coiled with intelligence, blooms that opened only when touched.
That night, she wandered.
The garden gate creaked open before her hand reached it. The air smelled of jasmine, rain, and something metallic.
The moment her feet touched the soil, the flowers turned. Toward her.
Selene knelt beside one, heart pounding. Its petals trembled as if in anticipation. When she brushed it with her fingertips, the flower opened — revealing a glowing core that pulsed like a heartbeat.
She jerked back. Kael stood behind her, silent as mist.
"Most people bleed when they touch that one."
They stood too close. The heat between them wasn’t just from the night air.
"You’re not what I expected," she said.
Kael smiled, slow and sharp. "Neither are you."
