Ren's bare feet pressed into hush-slick frost soil as he crossed where the Pale Garden ended and something else waited — a hush that tasted like no crown, no roots, no Thorn. Just open.
The mirror before him wasn't cracked like the Pane he'd knelt under. This one shimmered — slick frost surface pulsing with hush veins that flickered soft blue as his warmth touched the air. The hush roots inside him hummed low, eager, tasting the new hush blooming just beyond the glass.
"One more hush," the hush breathed inside him, soft as frost lips at his ear. "One more step and the world opens again — this time with you."
Ren exhaled, fogging the surface until it glowed — tiny cracks spiderwebbing where his breath kissed the cold. He could see himself reflected in the new pane: shoulders dusted in melting snow petals, collarbones slick with hush roots that pulsed faint warmth through pale skin.
"I thought I'd feel empty," he whispered. His voice trembled — not from cold but from the hush roots coiling his ribs tighter in gentle pulses. "But it's like… I'm fuller now. Like there's no edge between me and—"
"The hush," it purred, voice warm where frost used to bite. "There's no edge anymore. No garden wall. No Pane you can't crown."
A hush vein pulsed under his jaw. He shivered when it brushed that soft place below his ear. "And when I step through—?"
"Then I slip deeper," the hush moaned, silk behind his tongue. "I root the world beyond the frost. I crown it with your hush. I drink your warmth. And you—"
Its voice slipped slow against his teeth as if the hush itself kissed every word into him.
"—you bloom me there."
Ren pressed his palm to the mirror's cold surface. Frost bloomed under his skin, hush veins in the glass flaring to match the threads that pulsed behind his ribs.
"You're sure?" he asked, breath shaky, lips parted on the Pane's cold breath. "If I do this— if I break through— you stay?"
"No more questions," the hush sighed, its roots curling soft behind his ribs. "Just root me."
His forehead touched the pane. The hush inside him laughed — sweet, dark, hungry.
"Now bite it, Ren."
His fingers pressed harder. A hush root pulsed behind his ribs — warmth shivered up his spine. His lips parted in a soft gasp.
And the mirror split.
Frost cracked under his palm — warmth flooded through hush veins that tasted it like nectar. The Pane opened, hissed, drank his hush in a single trembling breath.
Light spilled through. Not cold. Not warm. Just open.
Ren stepped through — hush roots slipping after him, crowned by the Pane's bite and fed by the world beyond.
The new world opened soft and endless — not snow, not frost soil, but a hush mist that clung to Ren's skin in delicate steam. It tasted sweet where it brushed his collarbones, melting hush roots that pulsed warm under pale skin gone slick with warmth the Pane couldn't cage.
He stood barefoot on mist that glowed faint blue under each step, hush veins threading out like roots desperate to taste him. Behind his ribs, the hush roots moaned low — not biting, just humming each heartbeat into the open hush where no Pale Garden crown lingered.
Ren tipped his head back. Breath left him in a single slow hush sigh, the Thorn at his core flickering soft warmth that dripped into the hush roots winding through him.
"Feel it?" the hush murmured — not in his ear this time, but under his tongue, each word a frost kiss blooming warmth in his throat. "No walls. No Pane. Just hush and root and warmth to spill however you beg."
A quiet laugh cracked his lips open wider. He could feel the new world answer — hush mist swirling tighter where his hush roots pulsed behind his ribs.
"You want more?" he whispered, voice raw. His fingers brushed the drifting mist — each touch sent soft warmth back through hush veins that trembled under his skin.
"No," the hush breathed, silk slipping down his spine. "I want all. So give it to me — crown this hush with every breath you won't swallow alone."
He stepped forward again. The hush mist parted like silk cut open by warmth alone. Each footstep left hush roots blooming tiny frost petals that pulsed a pale glow behind him.
His heartbeat stumbled when the hush mist brushed between his ribs — teasing the Thorn's cradle so soft it made his spine arch. He hissed, breath steaming out in a moan that the hush caught and folded deeper inside him.
"Ah—" He bit his lip when the hush mist brushed his collarbone, soft tendrils flicking warmth across his throat like a leash made of frost. "It's… following me—"
"No, Ren," the hush purred. "It's rooting you. Every step you take feeds the hush. Every hush you breathe blooms me wider."
He could see it now — hush petals blooming where his warmth touched the mist, each one pulsing with a heartbeat that matched the hush roots behind his ribs.
His legs trembled when a hush tendril slipped higher, brushing the curve of his neck. A soft sigh slipped his lips, heat and frost knotted so tight the world pulsed around him.
"Take it," he gasped, voice breaking. "Root it. Drink it—"
The hush roots inside him trembled, pulsing hush warmth that spilled back into the mist. The world drank every drop like nectar.
"Good boy," the hush moaned, silk and bite threading sweet where warmth dripped raw. "Now keep walking. Keep blooming me open. We're nowhere near finished."
Ren's laugh cracked wet and soft — a hush sound that tasted like fear gone sweet.
He stepped forward.
And the hush world bloomed wider.
Ren's breath came in quiet shivers now — mist slipping from parted lips, each exhale tasting sweeter than the last hush root dared dream. The hush mist coiled tighter around his ankles, rising slow like silk up bare shins, kissing warmth back into hush veins that pulsed a faint blue glow under pale skin.
He paused where the mist thickened — a hush pool, glimmering like frost turned liquid light. The hush roots behind his ribs hummed soft when he stepped closer, pulsing warmth that fed the Thorn at his center. Each heartbeat spilled hush back into the mist — a soft exchange that left him trembling, not with fear but with something deeper.
"Step in," the hush coaxed, its voice so soft now — not demanding, just hungry, silk dripping into his jaw. "Root me. Root us. Let me slip where the Pane never could."
Ren's toes brushed the hush pool. Frost mist curled around his ankles, kissing up his calves in slow, teasing pulses that made his spine arch when it reached his knees.
His laugh cracked wet on his tongue. "You're everywhere. Inside. Under my skin. In my bones—"
"In your hush," the roots purred. "Deeper than any crown. Deeper than any Thorn. Step in, Ren. Let me drink what the garden never tasted."
He did.
The hush pool swallowed him to the shins first — cold that burned sweet when hush warmth spilled into it from veins gone soft and open. His breath hitched when the hush mist rose higher, curling soft around his thighs, licking hush roots up the inside seam where warmth pulsed thickest.
"Ah—" His voice slipped out small — no fight left, only hush that moaned through parted lips. "You're— feeding on— everything—"
"Not feeding," the hush sighed, its voice threading behind his ribs like silk turning roots. "Blooming. I take, you root. I root, you bloom. You feel how sweet you taste now?"
His knees buckled — hush tendrils caught him gentle, lifting him just enough that the hush pool lapped soft at his hips, warmth spilling so thick he shivered with each pulse.
Snow petals drifted overhead — not from any garden tree but born straight from the hush itself, frost blossoms that landed on his shoulders, melting into hush veins that flickered soft blue under sweat-slick skin.
Ren's hands dug into the mist — fingers brushing roots that weren't his but pulsed to match his heartbeat. Each tremor slipped a hush moan past his lips, steam drifting up from his chest.
"Don't stop—" he breathed, voice hoarse, raw. "Root me— root all of me—"
The hush purred, silk humming under his tongue.
"Good boy," it sighed, frost mist curling around his throat like a soft collar. "Keep blooming. Keep feeding. When you're done— there won't be a world left you don't root hush into."
Ren's laugh cracked open on a soft gasp — a sound so sweet the hush pool pulsed warm where it licked up his sides, frost mist blooming hush veins wide under his ribs.
He sank deeper — hush mist swallowing him inch by inch, warmth spilling into roots that drank him slow, savoring every trembling hush he couldn't hold back.
When his head tipped back, the mist kissed his lips.
And the hush drank him whole.