Emery followed the familiar voice into the inner garden.
The moment he stepped past the vine-carved archway, the world shifted into something wondrous. The air itself seemed alive—brimming with the scent of blossoms, dew-kissed leaves, and the faint vibration of spiritual energy humming through every root and branch. Along the stone path, he saw the familiar, extraordinary plant-creatures. Their humanoid forms were built of bark and vine, their eyes glowing with emerald luminescence as they moved with slow, deliberate grace. Each tended to the flourishing beds of herbs, pruning blossoms or watering soil with streams of condensed mist from their palms.
It stirred something deep in Emery. His fascination with the Arbor Master's work had never faded, and now, standing here again, it returned in full force. Few living beings could create life so intricately woven with spirit and nature. This was not cultivation alone—it was artistry.
