Do NOT turn around.

Therys’ athletic leap took him over the low boundary hedge and into the thickets, leaving Counselor Nyci and the Denar delegation staring after his swiftly vanishing form.

“…The Court Magician: Therys of the Golden Heart, Keeper of the Lysan Tomes,” recovered Nyci. “Formal introductions will be made after dinner,” after Nyci had formally introduced him to her thumbscrew collection. Though he had cured her headache today.

Winding through the delicate arches of Zephium shoots, the party stopped in the peaceful enclosure that served as antechamber for the Gardens below. The bandaged and masked Denar were arranged by ornamented gates, to be addressed by Nyci. She willfully ignored a spark of red fury in the distance. Therys.

“So many years lost to wasted struggle, so many lives to war and the plague. Yet now might there come a healing, through our herbs and y-”

Behind them she saw color slowly drain from the Garden… It began to wilt.

“…but you must be hungry. Please, this way.”

Her head throbbed.

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