"I don't know what that is," he said, tilting his head. "But I liked roots. Leaves. Sometimes berries. They were… kind to eat."
She stared at him, her jaw twitching.
Then, with a dramatic snort, she dropped the half-munched chitterbug, its remains splattering on the ground. "So. You're high-maintenance. In the Abyss."
"I'm sorry," Azareel said, his voice soft, his eyes apologetic.
"You want me to find you salad in a place made of teeth and rot?" she growled, her tail thumping the ground hard enough to scatter a nest of bone-mites into the cracks.
He tilted his head again, his silver eyes hopeful. "Please?"
Nyxsha groaned, a sound so loud it sent a nearby cluster of bone-mites scurrying underground.
"I swear to the Hollow Thrones, if you weren't so damn cute when you slept—" She froze, her ears flattening, her fur puffing out.
Azareel blinked, his brow furrowing. "What?"
"Nothing!" she roared, stomping forward, her claws digging furrows in the stone as she led him deeper into the wasteland.
They walked in silence, the Abyss shifting around them.
The cracked stone grew slick with faint green light, glowing in eerie veins.
Warmth—impossible, unnatural—rose from patches of moss that clung stubbornly to the ground.
The trees, once dead and skeletal, began to twist into something alive, their branches curling like fingers reaching for a forgotten sky.
Azareel hummed his clumsy, offbeat tune, the sound grating on Nyxsha's nerves but oddly steadying, like a heartbeat she couldn't ignore.
She scowled, her tail twitching, but didn't tell him to stop.
Then Azareel paused, his silver eyes widening.
He pointed. "What's that?"
Nyxsha followed his gaze, her nose twitching as a strange scent hit her—clean, alive, like dew on grass.
Beyond a ridge of jagged stone and hanging bone-vines, a clearing bloomed, utterly wrong in the Abyss's desolation.
It was green, vibrant, and quiet, a patch of life that defied the surrounding rot.
At its center, low bushes swayed gently, their branches heavy with glowing orange berries, like lanterns strung on velvet vines.
The air shimmered with their scent, sweet and warm, like a memory of something neither of them should know.
They stood in silence, the wind rustling softly through the garden.
Nyxsha's ears flicked, her tail stilling.
"…Well," she muttered, her voice gruff but softer, "maybe this vegan thing's not a total death sentence."
Azareel smiled up at her, his face glowing with quiet wonder.
She looked away, her fur bristling, her heart stuttering at the warmth in his eyes.
"Don't smile at me," she growled, crossing her arms. "I didn't say I was impressed."
He kept smiling, his silver eyes bright, undeterred.
She grunted, her tail thumping the ground, but the sound lacked its usual venom.
The garden rustled around them, its air carrying a promise of something that might, for once, let them live?
Azareel stepped into the garden like a dreamer crossing into a forgotten tale, his bare feet sinking into damp, soft earth that crumbled beneath his toes.
The air shifted, shedding the Abyss's usual chill for a warmth that felt alive—gentle, lingering, like sunlight remembered from a world long lost.
Twisted trees swayed with lazy grace, their roots wrapped in moss that pulsed faintly, like serpents caught mid-dance.
At the garden's heart, low bushes bloomed with glowing orange berries, nestled among broad violet leaves, their light pulsing like lanterns from a bedtime story.
The scent was impossibly clean—citrus, honey, and a wild herb that tugged at memories neither of them should have.