Zara watches my face, her expression alight with pleasure at my wonder. "It is beautiful, is it not?”
"Beautiful doesn't begin to cover it," I whisper, taking a hesitant step forward.
The path beneath my feet is inlaid with smooth stones that shimmer faintly, responding to my weight with gentle pulses of light that fade as I move on. Above us, translucent blossoms bloom like fallen stars caught mid-descent, each one casting its own faint glow across the pathways. Some open and close with rhythmic pulses, others remain still, their petals spread wide to reveal luminous centers in shades of gold and pale violet.
From a cleft high in the cavern wall, a small waterfall spills like liquid silver, catching the ambient light in rainbow hues. The sound of it fills the space. Not the thunderous crash of aboveground falls, but a musical tinkling, like crystal wind chimes stirred by a gentle breeze. The water gathers in clear pools below, ringed by stones polished to mirror smoothness. Their surfaces reflect the colors above, creating the illusion of portals into other worlds.
"May I?" I ask, gesturing toward the nearest pool.
Zara nods eagerly. "Of course!"
I kneel beside the water, dipping my fingers into its cool clarity. It feels different from ordinary water, slightly thicker, almost silken against my skin. Ripples spread outward from my touch, each one trailing luminescence in its wake before fading. The sensation is so unexpected, so foreign and yet so soothing, that I laugh aloud.
"It's alive," I say, watching the ripples dance.
"Everything here is," Zara replies, her tail swishing with excitement. "The water comes from the deep caverns where the ancient ones first settled. It carries memories, some say."
I withdraw my hand reluctantly, watching the glow fade. The air around us smells faintly of moss and mineral rain, strange and beautiful, alive in ways I've never felt aboveground. Each breath feels cleaner, more vital, as though the very atmosphere is infused with the life force that makes these plants glow.
We continue along the path, Zara pointing out various plants with childlike enthusiasm. "These only bloom when someone passes," she explains, indicating delicate spiral-shaped flowers that unfurl as she approaches, their petals releasing tiny motes of light that float upward like glowing pollen. "And those," she gestures to moss-like growths that pulse with azure light, "they respond to sound. Listen."
She hums a soft, three-note melody, and the moss brightens in perfect rhythm with her voice, the light rippling outward. I try humming the same pattern, and watch in delight as the plants respond to me as well, though with less intensity.
"They know you are human," Zara says, "but they accept you because you are Threadborn.”
Zara glides to a stone bench beside one of the larger pools, patting the space beside her in invitation. I join her, aware of our guards taking positions at discrete distances. Nirik closer, his expression openly appreciative of our surroundings, Zaethir farther back, watchful as ever.
“This garden is the heart of Vessan-Kar,” Zara says, her eyes bright with pride. “The foundation crystal was set here nearly a thousand years ago, by the first Serpent Crown. Every Crown since has shaped the palace, guiding its growth from the rock, adding wings of crystal, halls, and terraces. This garden developed slowly over the centuries, each generation pruning and tending the plants that now grow here.”
I pause, remembering Varok’s words from my first visit to the palace, when I had met Naryth, the Serpent Crown, who was lost to the bombing. “He told me about the foundation crystal,” I say softly. “I remember him saying every Crown since has left their mark.”
Zara’s small hand gestures toward a particularly vibrant patch of flora. “These plants,” she says, voice reverent, “are descendants of the earliest growths nurtured here. As the female of the palace, tradition holds that you will join Varok in nurturing them now, guiding both garden and palace into their next evolution."
Her words settle over me, carrying centuries of care and devotion. I look around with new eyes, seeing not just beauty but the living legacy of a people shaping their home over time. The palace and garden are not merely places of splendor, they are monuments to endurance, adaptation, and the devotion of every Crown that came before, and now I will be a part of that legacy.
For the first time since crossing the threshold into Vessan-Kar, I feel a quiet reverence, a sense of connection to the past, to the lives that have cultivated this place, and to the threads that tie me inexorably to Varok.
I'm still absorbing the quiet beauty of the garden when Zara's stomach growls audibly, the sound incongruously ordinary amid such ethereal surroundings. She covers her middle with both hands, scales flushing a deep violet.
"Sorry," she whispers, looking so mortified I have to suppress a smile.
"When did you last eat?" I ask.
She shrugs one delicate shoulder. "Last evening. I was too excited about bringing you here to think about food this morning."
The admission touches me, this youth so eager to share something special that she forgot basic needs. It reminds me of Serin on festival days, too caught up in anticipation to eat until she nearly fainted from hunger.
"We should fix that," I say, glancing around at the tranquil surroundings. "This would be a beautiful place for the midday meal."
Zara's face brightens. "We could eat here by the water!" She turns toward our guards, her voice taking on a sweetly persuasive tone. "Would not that be nice? Much better than returning to those stuffy formal chambers."
Nirik's tail gives an enthusiastic flick, his navy gaze warming with genuine agreement. "I can have the kitchen staff prepare something and bring it here," he says, glancing at Zaethir as if seeking permission.
Zaethir's expression doesn't change, his icy gaze unreadable as he considers the request. I half expect him to refuse outright, to insist we return to the safety of my assigned quarters. But after a moment, he gives a single, curt nod.
"Be quick about it," he tells Nirik, his voice low. "And alert no one unnecessarily to the Threadborn's location."
The younger warrior bobs his head. "I will return shortly," he promises before slipping away through the crystal-beaded curtain, the tiny droplets singing as they part for him.
