The glow intensified.She could feel the heat from two feet away now, and it was building fast.The wooden floor directly underneath—was it starting to smoke?
"No no no—" She lunged forward and grabbed the stem.
Hot.Too hot.She gasped and nearly let go, but wrapped her already—torn dress hem around her hands and yanked.The sunflower pulled free easily—no roots, just magic—and she stumbled toward the stone alcove.
Itwasa fireplace—she could see it clearly now in the amber glow.And set into it, an oven with an iron door.The door was stiff but it opened.She shoved the sunflower inside, glowing seed head first, and slammed it shut.
Through the small gaps around the door, amber light leaked out.The metal began to tick softly as it heated.She stood there, breathing hard, looking at her reddened fingers.Not quite burnt.Close.
The stem was already crumbling to ash on the floor where she'd dropped it.Just...dissolving.Gone in seconds.
The oven glowed.Faint warmth began to radiate from the stone alcove—just the barest hint of heat, but it wassomething.She turned, finally able to see the room properly in the dim amber light.
The interior was larger than it should be.The walls curved gently, following the tree's natural shape, smooth and finished.Pale wood, warm toned even in the low light.
The stone fireplace alcove to her left, the oven still glowing faintly through its gaps.To her right, a wooden platform against the far wall—a bed frame, raised slightly off the floor.No mattress.Just bare wood slats.
Closer, a counter with a sink.An actual sink, carved from a single piece of wood, with a graceful basin and a simple spout curved over it.
In the center of the room, an island counter made of burl wood, all natural edges and swirling grain.Two matching chairs tucked underneath.A rocking chair in the corner near the fireplace.A tree stump beside it, the perfect height for a side table.Windows with wooden shutters, still closed against the storm.
It was beautiful.Sparse, but beautiful.Like something from a fairy tale cottage.And still freezing, though the oven's warmth was starting—just barely starting—to take the sharpest edge off the cold.
She sank into the rocking chair, wrapping her arms around herself.Her dress dripped puddles onto the floor.Her calf throbbed.Her hands stung, but there was light.And the promise of warmth.
Wait, what was she doing?She couldn't afford to sit!The amber glow from the oven was comforting, but it would be a while before the room was actually warm.And it was still sodark—just that faint light leaking from the iron door's gaps.She needed more light.Needed to see what she was doing.
And blankets!She definitely needed blankets.Something dry to wrap around herself.
Wren pushed herself out of the rocking chair, wincing as her scraped palms protested.Back to the purse.This time she moved more deliberately, sorting through the seeds by touch.The magic helped—each one announced itself as she brushed it.Maple.Pine.Morning glory.Lantana.
She paused.Lantana felt...bright.Cheerful.But not quite right.
Poppy.Iris.Japanese lantern.
Japanese lantern.Yes!The warmth that came with that seed felt likelight.She pulled it out and crossed to the wall beside the rocking chair.Set it on the floor next to the tree stump table and watched hopefully."Grow!"
The stem rose quickly, sturdy and green.Papery orange lanterns bloomed along it, clustering together like flowers.As they formed, they began to glow—soft, warm orange—yellow light.Not harsh, but gentle, like candlelight, but steady.
The room brightened immediately.She could see properly now—the grain in the wooden walls, the smooth curve of the counters, the way the burl wood island gleamed.
She shivered.Magic or not, she needed to get warm now.She reached into the purse again, pulled out seed after seed until—
Blanket flower.The name came with the warmth, and she almost laughed.Of course.Of course there would be a blanket flower.She planted it near the bed platform, because if this worked the way she hoped...
The plant shot up tall, taller than the sunflower had been.The stem was thick, sturdy.And as the flower head formed, she saw it wasn't petals that unfurled, but rolled blankets.Each one a different color—cream, soft blue, rose pink.They were arranged like petals around the center, which held tightly rolled sheets.And in the very middle, pillowcases, also rolled up tight.
It looked absurd.Beautiful and absurd, like a flower arrangement made of bedding.She reached out and tugged one of the blankets free.It unrolled in her hands—thick, soft,perfect.Warm even though it had just grown.
A sound escaped her throat, half—laugh, half—sob.She pulled down more blankets, sheets, working quickly.The outer "petals" for the mattress layers.Sheets to cover them.More blankets to pile on top.The stem began to crumble as she worked, the flower head drooping and dissolving once she'd harvested everything.Within minutes she had a bed.The piles of blankets looked so inviting, but she had so much left to do.
She grabbed one more blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling it tight.There!That would help.The room was starting to warm.Just barely.The oven ticked and glowed.The lantern plant cast gentle light.She was still wet, hurt and scared, but she had light, warmth, and a bed.It was something.She stood there, wrapped in a blanket, and took stock.
The windows were still shuttered, but she could see brighter light leaking around the edges now.Dawn was coming properly.The rain had softened to a drizzle—she could hear the difference in the sound in the tree branches.
Her stomach growled.Loud enough that she looked down at it in surprise.When had she last eaten?Before the game.Before the white void.Before...everything.She needed food.And water—she had the sink, but nothing to drink from.No cups, no bowls, nothing.
And she was still soaking wet.The blanket helped, but her dress was plastered to her skin underneath, cold and clammy.She needed dry clothes, something to change into while this dried.
