There is a flower, Somnum's Lament, that was as breathtaking as it was insidious. Its petals shimmered had a soft, spectral glow—hues shifting between baby blue and deep indigo.
It was said to give off a faint, sweet scent, that was reminiscent of a tempting fruit. To the unsuspecting, it was a beautiful, otherworldly flower.
To the Empire, it was a plague.
At first, Somnum's Lament was discovered centuries ago and seemed like a miracle. Beast-tamers, particularly those below the coveted seven-star rank, found themselves drawn to it like moths to flame.
Those with weaker talents—whose progression was a slow, grueling path riddled with setbacks—claimed the flower heightened their sensitivity to spiritual power, spiritual skills that once eluded them came naturally, and an intoxicating clarity settled over their minds. A rush of euphoria accompanied every use, as if they were finally breaking free of the limitations shackling their talents since birth.
But the high never lasted.
