The garden no longer swayed—it breathed.
The air pulsed with a subtle rhythm, as if the ground itself had a heartbeat.
Vines rose in slow, serpentine waves, their tips curling like fingers testing the air.
Twisted trees leaned inward, their moss-wrapped roots shifting imperceptibly, their branches curving down like watchful eyes.
The glowing orange berry bushes, once inviting, now loomed taller, their violet leaves softer, hungrier, their light pulsing with an almost predatory intent.
The Abyss's deceptive warmth hung heavy, a trap woven from comfort and illusion.
Nyxsha stood at the garden's center, her massive frame tense, her black fur bristling.
Her golden eyes, slit-pupiled and sharp, scanned every shadow, every vine, her tail low and taut like a drawn bowstring.
Her claws flexed, ready to tear through anything that moved too close.
She could feel the garden's gaze, its silent hunger, and it set her teeth on edge.
Azareel, oblivious, sat cross-legged on a mossy patch, his torn robe patched with Nyxsha's linen scraps, his silver-white hair catching the berries' glow.
He smiled, his silver eyes, bright with a childlike wonder, as if surrounded by playful pups rather than a living trap.
That was the problem—he looked happy, his frail frame relaxed, his bare feet sinking into the soft earth like it was a sanctuary.
"Alright, angel," Nyxsha grunted, her voice sharp as she stepped closer, pointing a claw at a writhing vine inching toward his thigh.
"Lesson time."
Azareel glanced up, his hand pausing where he'd been gently patting a leafy tendril that kept tickling his ear.
"Hmm?" he asked, his voice soft, curious.
"Everything in the Abyss wants to eat you," she said, her tone cutting through the garden's deceptive calm.
"You think this place is sad and lonely and misunderstood, and I get it. You're all… soft and stupid. But this garden? It's alive. It's trying to digest us." She kicked the ground, her paw sending a puff of moss into the air.
The moss twitched, curling back toward her like an offended snake.
Azareel tilted his head, his silver eyes blinking. "I know."
"No," Nyxsha snapped, her tail lashing, knocking a berry from a bush.
"You don't. The roots are moving. The air's too still. It's luring us into comfort. The moment you sleep too deep, it'll cradle you in vines, squeeze your chest, and suck the breath from your lungs while feeding on your bones like they're tea leaves."
He blinked again, his gaze drifting to the vines.
Nyxsha followed his eyes—and froze.
Half a dozen tendrils had gathered around him, their tips curling gently, each offering a single berry—the biggest, ripest, juiciest ones, glowing like tiny suns.
Azareel beamed, his smile radiant, untouched by fear.
"They brought me the best ones," he said, his voice warm with delight.
Nyxsha stared, her ears twitching. "Of course they did," she muttered, her voice dripping with exasperation.
He held a berry carefully in both hands, its glow illuminating his pale face. "They like me," he said, his tone earnest, as if the vines were old friends.
"They want to consume you," Nyxsha growled, her claws digging into the earth.
"They want to be my friends," he countered, his silver eyes sparkling.
He took the berry, biting into it with a soft crunch, juice dribbling down his chin.
"Mm. Sweet," he said, his voice muffled but content.
Nyxsha groaned, the sound echoing through the garden, shaking a nearby bush. "You are not listening."
Azareel glanced at the vines, one curling near his shoulder like a curious pet.
He placed a hand on it, his touch gentle, almost reverent, and whispered something too soft for Nyxsha to hear.
The vine shivered, its leaves rustling faintly. He turned to her, his smile unwavering.
"They're lonely."
Nyxsha's mouth opened, then shut.
She rubbed her forehead with one paw, her tail thumping the ground.
"You…" she muttered, her voice a mix of exhaustion and disbelief, "…are either going to save this place or make it a thousand times worse."