The garden on the fourth floor stirred awake beneath the crimson glow of the red orb, its warm light filtering through the vines that hung like living curtains, dotted with luminous mushrooms that glimmered like weary fireflies. Two weeks had passed since Kaili's iron-fisted training had pushed the group to their limits, two weeks of fragile calm that wrapped the air in a scent of damp moss and the lazy crackle of the purple campfire. The soft grass still bore the imprints of the blankets where they'd slept after that night of pajamas woven by Sebastián—iridescent feathers for Kaili, stardust for Aurora, black flowers for Aevia—now scattered among the Fire Blossoms and Dragon's Tears. But that stillness was about to shatter.
Sebastián lounged against a twisted root, his body still aching from Kaili's wooden sword strikes. A faint bruise marked his shoulder beneath his rumpled green tunic, and his calloused hands toyed with a shadow berry, crushing it until its purple juice trickled between his fingers, releasing a sweet-tart scent into the air. His brown eyes drifted to the violet sparks leaping from the campfire, his mind caught in the memory of the battle between Kaili and Aurora—a whirlwind of feathers, ice, and black suns that still prickled his skin. The crackling of the flames mingled with the rustle of the vines swaying gently, and the campfire's soft heat brushed his face like a friendly breath.
A movement across the garden snapped him out of his reverie. Aurora emerged from the vines, her imposing figure draped in a loose tunic she'd borrowed from him days ago, falling over her curves like a veil that couldn't hide her cosmic presence. Her emerald-green hair, flowing down to her waist, rippled with golden threads that caught the orb's light, and her amber eyes shone with a serenity that seemed to hold the weight of galaxies. Her steps echoed with a steady cadence on the grass as she settled into a stone chair carved beneath a stalactite, her translucent wings unfurling slightly, casting warm glimmers that danced over the flowers around her. The air around her quivered, charged with a faint hum that made the nearby leaves tremble.
Kaili followed close behind, her boots striking the ground with a rhythm that cut through the silence. Her six iridescent wings were folded against her back, but their feathers reflected shades of purple and blue that played with the ceiling gems, and the golden, silver, and red runes beneath her violet skin pulsed like living embers. Her sharp horns, adorned with gleaming gems, caught the light as if they were crowns, and her dark eyes scanned the garden with a mix of arrogance and vigilance. Her tight black armor left her arms and abdomen bare, a statement of power that needed no words.
Aevia appeared last, her mature form exuding a calm that contrasted with the intensity of the other two. Tall and voluptuous, her pale skin shimmered with an iridescent glow, crisscrossed by dark veins that moved like clock hands beneath the surface. Her hair, a cascade of jet-black with streaks of blood-red and violet, fell to her hips, rippling like liquid shadows that defied gravity. Her eyes—hourglasses with red sand flowing in impossible patterns—gleamed with deep wisdom, and her dress of solidified shadows and clotted blood whispered against the grass, flickering with fleeting patterns of gears and black roses that bloomed and faded. A mantle of floating hourglasses and bloody shadows stretched behind her, spinning with a soft tick-tock that filled the air like a distant heartbeat.
Sebastián let the berry drop to the grass with a faint plop, its juice staining the blades as he straightened slightly, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. "Two weeks without getting pummeled?" he said, his voice rough but laced with humor. "I think that's a personal record."
Kaili spun toward him, crossing her arms beneath her chest in a deliberate motion that lifted her curves. "Don't tempt fate, gardener," she growled, a red flash glowing in her runes. "I could drag you out right now and make you eat that campfire."
Aurora tilted her head, a faint smile curving her full lips. "It's a pause, little gardener," she said, her melodic tone resonating like a stellar echo that soothed the air. "But the world doesn't wait forever."
Aevia stepped forward, her mantle of clocks quickening its tick-tock as she raised a hand toward the smaller red orb floating in an adjacent chamber, visible from the garden through a stone archway. With an elegant gesture, the orb projected a blue hologram into the air: five levels of the dungeon, from the entrance to the main chamber with Thal'Korath's throne. Her red-sand eyes gleamed with serene intensity as she spoke, her melodic voice carrying a quiet authority. "Mother, we're squandering this calm," she said, gazing at Aurora with absolute devotion. "We've forged our power—the Frozen Claw proves it—but our home remains a half-woven tapestry. It's strong, yes, but it's not ready."
Kaili frowned, her wings twitching with a hum that rustled the nearby vines, releasing a faint whiff of damp earth. "Ready?" she repeated, her tone sharp. "The dungeon's held up against everything we've thrown at it, Aevia. What more do you want?"
Aevia turned to her, her dress whispering against the grass as her mantle of bloody shadows spun with a hypnotic rhythm. "Holding up isn't enough, Kaili," she replied, her voice steady yet calm. "We've reacted to the world, not shaped it. This garden," she pointed to the fourth floor on the hologram, "is our sanctuary, a place that breathes life thanks to the little gardener. We won't touch it—it's our core. But above and below, we must weave a tapestry of deceit and death. The Coins of the Frozen Claw give us the power to expand, to turn this dungeon into a fortress that doesn't just endure, but reaps before the enemy even reaches us."
Sebastián leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied the hologram, the campfire's warmth grazing his hands. "Reaps, huh?" he murmured, scratching his stubbled chin with a juice-stained finger. "My plants have kept the clumsy golems at bay, but… after watching you all fight two weeks ago, with all that ice and shadows flying around, I don't get it. You could crush entire armies without blinking. Why go through all this trouble with the dungeon?"
Aevia looked at him, her red-sand eyes softening with a blend of tenderness and cunning. "Little gardener," she said, her voice a whisper that caressed the air, "it's not just about strength. Killing is a one-time harvest—quick, brutal, finite. But instilling fear… that's a perpetual sowing, with fruits we can reap whenever we choose. Mother doesn't feed only on blood; she thrives on emotions—fear, despair, uncertainty. A swift death grants power, yes, but an enemy who trembles at the threshold, who hesitates with every step, who suffers before they fall… that's an eternal feast for her."
Aurora nodded, her wings casting glimmers that illuminated the Fire Blossoms around her, their sweet scent intensifying. "Aevia's right," she said, her amber eyes gleaming with restrained excitement. "Strength sustains us, but fear elevates us. I want this dungeon to be an echo of my will—a place that breaks souls before bodies."
Kaili snorted, but her runes flared with a golden glow of interest. "Eternal fear, huh? That's more my style," she said, her tone thick with approval. "Tell me how we do it, Aevia."
Aevia smiled, a subtle curve laced with cunning, and pointed to the hologram's first floor. "We start at the entrance," she said. "A new first floor, a lure for the unwary. Picture a false garden—flowers that seem harmless, like your Dragon's Tears, little gardener, but with a hidden edge. Vines that erupt from the ground when they sense foreign steps, their thorns dripping a venom that smells of rotting almonds and burns the skin like molten embers. The crack of their stems rising is a sharp snap, like breaking twigs, followed by a hiss as they weave a cage that tightens until bones give way with a wet crack."
Sebastián blinked, picturing the vines in motion, the acrid scent stinging his nose. "That's… savage," he said, a mix of awe and unease in his voice as he rubbed his hands, the berry juice sticky against his skin. "I'm thrilled my plants could be that fierce, but how do we know they won't snag us too?"
Aevia tilted her head toward him, her mantle of clocks slowing its tick-tock for a moment. "The dungeon is an extension of Mother," she explained, her tone serene but firm. "These traps know our essence—your blood, my time, Kaili's plague, Mother's power. An intruder steps on the grass, and the roots sense alien life. In seconds, the vines ensnare them, but to us, they'll be as tame as your flowers here."
Aurora laughed softly, the sound reverberating like distant bells as her fingers tapped the stone chair. "Subtle and lethal," she said, her voice brimming with satisfaction that rustled the vines. "What creatures guard it?"
"Shadow crows," Aevia replied, her tone dark as a whisper from the void. "Small, swift, with feathers that slice like obsidian blades. Their caws are a shrill screech that echoes in the skull, a sound that disorients until legs buckle. They don't strike right away—they let the vines dance, then swoop in swarms, tearing flesh with a wet, viscous rip, like overripe fruit splitting open. Their scent is metallic, like fresh blood, and their red eyes glow in the gloom."
Kaili let out a laugh, her wings unfurling slightly, casting reflections that danced across the grass. "That's a solid start," she said, her runes flaring with a vivid red. "I can hear them—cawing while the fools scream, trapped in those vines. But the second floor—my lake—needs something with my mark."
Aevia nodded, sliding her hand to the hologram's second floor, her dress rippling with a whisper that evoked spilled blood. "The lake will be a mirror of death," she said, her voice resonating with an eerie calm. "Picture still water, reflecting the green gems like a deceptive sky. But as they approach, the ripples awaken shadow eels—long, with slick bodies gleaming like black oil, their needle-sharp teeth glinting. The splash of their tails hitting the water is a dull thud, followed by an electric hum that paralyzes, a crackle that echoes in the bones. If they slip past, your pools, Kaili, will sing your chaos."
Kaili raised an eyebrow, her wings humming with a sound that stirred the Fire Blossoms, releasing a sweet whiff. "My pools?" she asked, intrigued. "What's your plan for them?"
"The gems lining your pools," Aevia explained, "will turn into living traps. A misstep near the water, and they burst into a cloud of shimmering dust that smells of lilies at first, fooling the senses, before turning acrid, like charred flesh. The dust sears the lungs like liquid fire, a soft hiss as it melts into the skin. In your chamber, the mushroom curtains will fall like sticky rain when intruders are near, hardening on their flesh with a viscous crunch, while spores drift in the air, a moldy stench that chokes with every breath."
Sebastián shivered, picturing the curtains he'd hung with such care morphing into a deadly snare. "That's… clever," he said, his voice quivering slightly as the campfire's warmth grazed his hands. "It gives me chills thinking of those spores floating around, but I guess that's the point—to make them suffer."
Kaili shot him a mocking glance, her lips curling into a cruel smile. "Don't go soft on me now, gardener," she said. "I love it—my pools exploding, the curtains trapping them like flies in honey. But I want more. Something that screams my name."
"Plague," Aevia suggested, her tone steady as steel. "A miasma that rises from the lake when the eels stir. A green vapor that reeks of rot and sulfur, eating away at skin like slow acid. They'll breathe it in, and their screams will be a wet gurgle as they melt from the inside, an echo of your essence—chaos and destruction in every gasp. The dungeon knows us—it'll part for our presence."
Kaili laughed again, a sound that rolled through the garden like distant thunder, her runes blazing with fervent red. "Perfect," she said, her voice thick with delight. "The lake boiling with my plague, their bodies dissolving as they run… My Queen, this has to thrill you as much as it does me."
Aurora nodded, her amber eyes flashing with a mix of pride and anticipation that rustled the vines. "It thrills me," she said. "It's a reflection of you, Kaili, and the fear we aim to sow. What about the third floor, Aevia? What does your mind weave for the crypt?"
Aevia shifted her hand to the hologram's third floor, her mantle of clocks quickening its tick-tock like an eager pulse. "The crypt will be a maze of shadow and bone," she said, her voice laced with deadly calm. "The corridors will teem with wraiths—tall, thin figures with claws that slash like knives and red eyes glowing in the dark. Their wail is a low hum that chills the blood, a sound that burrows into the ears until the heart beats out of sync. The traps will be subtle—slabs that give way under foreign feet, releasing a bone dust that blinds and burns, with a dry crunch as they trigger, echoing like a death knell. The dust smells of old ash, a bitter taste that clings to the tongue."
Sebastián swallowed hard, picturing the dust swirling in the air, its rough texture against the skin. "That sounds like hell," he said, his voice low as the campfire's heat warmed his face. "I can see them stumbling, coughing while those things hunt them. It's kind of pitiful, but… it excites me too, imagining it."
Aevia smiled, her red-sand gaze flickering with approval. "That's the intent, little gardener," she said. "Let them suffer, let them doubt, let them fear. And on the fifth floor, the main chamber, that fear will reach its peak."
Kaili leaned forward, her wings humming with a sound that stirred the air. "Thal'Korath's throne?" she asked, her tone thick with curiosity. "Tell me we're using it."
"Of course," Aevia replied, her voice ringing with dark certainty. "The throne will be the final trap. Picture intruders reaching it, exhausted, teetering on madness, only to face the throne of bones and black roses. As they draw near, the roses awaken—their petals unfurl with a soft crackle, releasing a cloying scent that dizzies, like fresh blood and honey. Vines sprout from the throne, thick and thorny, with a scraping sound as they rise. They snare the enemy, draining their life with a wet pulse that echoes in the chamber, while the roses glow red with stolen blood. The dungeon knows us—it won't touch us, but for them, it's the end."
Aurora leaned forward, her wings casting a light that illuminated the hologram. "A feast of fear," she said, her voice thrumming with an excitement that shook the Fire Blossoms. "I love it. And the creatures there?"
"Bone specters," Aevia said. "Tall, with bodies of twisted remains and empty eyes glowing white. Their steps are a dry crunch, like snapping branches, and their touch freezes the skin with a cold that burns. The air around them reeks of dust and decay, a stench that sticks in the throat. They'll lurk in the shadows, letting the roses do their work, then finish what's left."
Sebastián leaned back against the root, the campfire's warmth clashing with the chill running down his spine. "That's… terrifying," he said, his voice low but brimming with awe. "I can smell those roses, feel those specters stalking. It thrills me and scares me all at once."
Kaili laughed, her runes flashing with a silver gleam. "That's the spirit, gardener," she said. "My Queen, this is a masterpiece. How do we set it in motion?"
Aurora rose from the chair, her wings unfurling fully, casting a glow that filled the garden. "Aevia, you'll lead this," she said, her tone firm yet warm. "Use the Coins to weave this web. Kaili, fortify the second floor and guide the creatures. Little gardener, your plants will bring life to the first floor and shield our core here."
Sebastián nodded, a crooked smile tugging at his lips as the berry juice dried on his fingers. "I like the idea of my plants being deadly," he said. "I'm in."
Aevia stepped toward Aurora, her mantle of clocks slowing its tick-tock. "Mother," she said, her voice low, "I have one more idea… something for the throne." She leaned in and whispered something in her ear, a murmur too soft to catch, sparking a glint of intrigue in Aurora's amber eyes.
Kaili crossed her arms, her wings humming with a sound that rustled the vines. "What are they scheming with Thal'Korath's throne now?" she grumbled, her tone sarcastic but tinged with curiosity.
Sebastián laughed, leaning back against the root as the campfire crackled before him. "I trust them," he said, his voice laced with humor. "But I'm lost, as usual. Guess that's part of living with you all."
Aurora turned to them, an enigmatic smile on her lips as the hologram updated, displaying the restructured five floors. "Rest for now," she said. "Tomorrow, this dungeon will be more than a home—it'll be an echo of our power, a field of fear that never stops yielding fruit."
The group fell silent, the red orb's glow bathing them as the vines whispered around them. The purple campfire sputtered, sending sparks into the air, and the scent of the flowers filled the space with a calm that clashed with the visions of death they'd woven. In that corner of the fourth floor, amid life and shadow, they found a balance that bound them tighter than ever.