The garden felt different.
The wind which usually gently brushed the rosebushes, was heavy in the air and didn't move, as if it were watching. The sunlight seemed dull, as if it didn't want to touch the ground beneath their feet.
Kael stood at Rheya's side, fingers entwined, but his gaze was fixed downward. The earth itself seemed to pulse beneath them, a quiet heartbeat that throbbed against his bones.
"It's not over," he whispered, voice tight as a coiled spring.
Rheya turned to him, her eyes bright and unwavering despite the creeping darkness. "Then we face it. Together," she said, the words steady as steel.
A faint tremor ran through the ground, unnoticed at first. Below, something stirred.
The black thorn, the remnants of the Gate's magic, writhed like a living thing, its tendrils pulsing with dark energy, feeding through the roots of every tree, every plant. A soft, curling wisp of shadow rose, brushing against the petals of a rose that had been perfect only moments ago.
A voice from below the ground, cracked and old, hissed, "The gate is just a door," as if the earth itself had learnt to speak.
Kael closed his eyes, shivering as the chill seeped into his bones. When he opened them again, the roses nearest to them had begun to wither. Petals blackened and curled despite the warmth of spring, the sudden death of blooms striking like a warning.
Rheya knelt next to one, put her hands on the ground, and softly chanted a curling chant. There was a faint shimmer in the air from her magic, but even her power seemed weak and unsure in the face of the darkness that was coming.
"This is not natural," she whispered, her voice trembling despite the fire in her eyes.
Kael's jaw tightened. "The Gate's magic lingers. We awakened something."
Kael dreamed that night, when the stars were all over the sky and restless. The flames and ice danced together in a beautiful mess. Rheya's fire clashed with his frost as shadows reached for them, clawing at their hearts.
He woke to find her awake beside him, staring into the darkened garden with unblinking eyes.
"The bloodrose isn't just a flower," she said softly. "It's a battleground."
He took her hand, the warmth grounding him in the uncertain night. "Then let's fight for this garden our home."
A spark leaped between them, delicate and trembling, the first time their powers seemed to intertwine naturally. Frost and flame balanced against each other, a fragile truce, a promise that together they might hold back whatever darkness now slithered beneath the soil.
A single black petal floated across the floor of the garden as the sun rose. It pulsed softly, like a heart beating slowly, which was unsettling.
The garden looked like it was holding its breath in the dim light. A whisper went through the roots below, wrapping around the stones and vines: "Blood cannot sever what roots entwine." The garden was no longer a sanctuary. It had turned into a battlefield, a place where life and death, light and dark, mixed.
The morning sun came through the stained glass of the broken temple and cast broken rainbows on the cracked marble floor.
Kael's hand remained warm in hers, yet beneath the warmth, a tremor ran through his veins. The thorn's pulse beneath them had grown stronger like a heartbeat that refused to die.
Rheya traced soft circles on the back of his hand, her voice low and steady. "We saved the world, Kael, but the garden still bleeds."
He swallowed the knot of fear tightening in his throat. "I don't know if we bought peace or postponed war."
She leaned into him, her breath carrying the scent of wildflowers and smoke. "We have each other. That's the seed we plant now."
His lips found hers, soft and fierce a promise forged in frost and flame, anchoring them against the darkness.
The black thorn pulsed again under their feet, getting wider and darker, with veins of shadow stretching through the soil like snakes.
"Blood cannot sever what roots entwine," said a voice that was old and broken.
A single black petal opened up from the dark earth, showing a tiny seed that sparkled with magic that was not allowed.
It was small, unassuming, yet every instinct in Kael's body screamed danger.
Rheya pulled back from his touch, eyes wide and sharp. "Kael… I feel it. The garden is sick. This isn't ordinary magic."
He nodded, brushing his fingers against the faint scars on her wrist, still faintly pink from the Gate's closing. "Your blood holds the Gate's promise… but maybe it carries its curse too."
Her gaze hardened, fierce and unyielding. "We don't run from curses. We heal them."
He gripped her hands, steadying her storm. "Then we hunt this seed before it grows into something we can't stop."
Night draped the garden in velvet darkness. Kael stood alone at its edge, summoning the frost within him. The air got stiff, and the wind blew around him, making ice crystals spin and shine like stars.
The cold bit at his skin, but underneath it, a spark of warmth appeared a whisper of Rheya's fire reaching through the shadows and holding him back, reminding him of their bond.
In that weak light, frost and fire turned into more than magic. They made a promise to stand together no matter what, even if there were shadows or thorns under the ground.
A person stood on the edge of the garden and watched from the shadows. Its body was covered in twisting thorns and darkness, and its eyes shone with hunger.
The seed had been planted. The roots of shadow were beginning to strangle the light.
Kael's fingers found Rheya's again, her touch grounding him. Beneath their hands, the pulse of the thorn pressed like a dark heartbeat.
"We saved the world," Rheya said softly, tracing circles on his hand, "but the garden still bleeds."
Kael swallowed, the weight of uncertainty settling over him like frost. "I don't know if we bought peace or merely postponed war."
She leaned into him, her breath warm with the scent of fire and wildflowers. "We have each other. That's the seed we plant now."
Their lips met, soft and fierce, a tether of light amidst the encroaching dark.
Beneath them, the black thorn pulsed again, spreading, writhing like serpents reaching for the surface. The earth whispered once more: "Blood cannot sever what roots entwine."
A single black petal fell, revealing a small seed that glimmered with forbidden magic.
Rheya pulled back, eyes sharp with sudden fear. "Kael… the garden is sick. This isn't ordinary magic."
He brushed his hand over her scars. "Your blood holds the Gate's promise… and maybe its curse."
Her gaze hardened. "We don't run from curses. We heal them."
He gripped her hands, steadying her storm. "Then we hunt this seed before it grows into something we can't stop."
Night deepened. Kael stood at the garden's edge, frost and fire coiling in delicate tension within him. Ice crystals swirled around his feet like trapped stars, while a single spark of flame reached from him into the darkness a tether to Rheya, a thread of hope against the spreading shadow.
The garden, which used to be a safe place, was now a war zone. A fight that started in the roots, where blood and magic mixed and shadows moved.
And no matter what happened next, they would face it together, with frost, fire, and a love that would never die.