Sylvara tilted her head with a faint smirk, her amber eyes glinting.
"Perhaps," she said, kneeling beside the fountain, her fingers pressing into the dry roots.
She turned her face up to the skyless dark, her breath steady and slow.
"Here then," she murmured, her voice a song under her breath. "Let something bloom again."
Her fingers dug into the dirt, her glowing skin veined with gold and green reacting to the stone's chill.
And the earth answered, roots uncoiling from her palms like living threads, weaving through the cracks with a faint rustle.
Crimson-leaved vines slithered across the courtyard stones, blooming into cushions of soft moss.
Flowers unfurled mid-air, their petals glowing gold and soft violet, casting a warm light that pushed back the crimson gloom.
Thick moss swelled from the fractures, cushioning the dead stone, while a canopy of faintly glowing blossoms formed an umbrella above the fountain, their light pulsing gently like a heartbeat.
