As Jet stepped into the smoke, the world felt… wrong.
Not just visually—physically.
The moment his foot crossed the threshold, the air shifted. The smoke wasn't vapor, not really. It clung to his skin like damp silk, but with the tension of something alive—wrapping his limbs, sliding up his throat, brushing behind his ears like invisible fingertips. He felt it coiling, spiraling around his ribs, whispering things just beneath the level of hearing.
It wasn't cold. Or warm. It was empty. And yet, somehow — too present.
Jet's breath caught for a second.
Then came the pull.
His body remained standing, but something else inside him—his senses, his weight, maybe his damn soul—was being slid sideways, like reality tilted without permission.
There was a blink.
Not his.
The world blinked.
And Jet was no longer where he'd been.
His boots sank softly into velvet grass, glowing faintly with dew that shimmered pink and gold. The sky above was surreal — like watching sunset on loop, colors bleeding into one another in slow motion. Trees with crystalline leaves swayed gently despite no wind. Flowers pulsed. The air sparkled with motes that moved like fireflies.
It was a garden.
Beautiful.
Eerily, disturbingly beautiful.
Jet's clenched his knuckles.
"…The fuck is this?"
A soft voice drifted behind him — delicate, a little shaky.
"I-It's p-p-pretty, i-isn't it?"
Jet spun, instincts snapping into place. His feet skidded lightly across the grass as he jumped back a meter, hands raised into a ready stance.
His eyes landed on her.
His face flattened immediately.
"Oh. It's you."
Eirlys stood awkwardly, arms close to her chest, her fingers fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. Her cheeks were flushed, her brows drawn as if caught between embarrassment and mild offense.
"H-How d-dare you!" she stammered. "A-A-After e-everything, you can't e-e-even r-recognize my v-voice?!"
Jet tilted his head. "How the hell am I supposed to recognize a voice that sounds like someone's choking on dust?"
Her jaw dropped. "M-M-My voice does n-not sound like t-that!"
"Right, because I'm the one here with the mucus-throat."
"Y-You ungrateful—! We c-c-could've let you d-die back t-there!"
"And now I wish you had," Jet muttered under his breath.
"W-What?!"
Just then, a slow, amused voice joined the chaos.
"Mmh. You two are cute. You can flirt later guys"
A new figure emerged from the golden vines ahead — Lavender.
Her presence was all curves and calm, moving with unbothered confidence as her boots barely left prints in the grass. With a soft hum, she walked straight up behind Eirlys and without warning, wrapped her arms around her waist from behind.
"L-L-Lavender?!" Eirlys squealed, nearly leaping out of her skin. "S-Stop it!"
Lavender leaned her chin on Eirlys' shoulder and smiled like a cat. "You looked lonely."
"I-I-I d-don't!" she blurted, squirming in the hold. "A-A-And there's n-nothing going on b-between me and him!"
Jet crossed his arms, one brow raised. "You think I'm volunteering for that chaos?"
"C-Chaos?! I'm c-c-classy!"
"Classy? You nearly bit your own tongue saying that."
Eirlys snapped her head toward Lavender, pointing at Jet like an outraged toddler. "S-S-See?! T-This is what I m-mean! H-He's just a s-s-single-brained—!"
Lavender just nuzzled in closer, humming. "Mmh. But you're so soft when you're flustered."
"There's nothing flustered about me!" Eirlys snapped, trying to wriggle free. "A-And there's no flirting! I would never flirt with someone like him!"
Jet rolled his eyes. "Thanks."
Eirlys pointed aggressively in his direction, cheeks ablaze. "I-I have a boyfriend waiting for me at home, okay?! So don't lump me in with that single-ass moron!"
"—Single-ass moron?" Jet repeated flatly.
Lavender couldn't take it anymore.
She burst out laughing, holding her stomach.
Jet's eye twitched. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?! Say it again!"
He stepped forward.
Lavender waved lazily, still laughing. "Jet. Chill."
"Say it again!"
"Oh calm down."
"What do you mean by single-ass moron?!"
Still giggling, Lavender raised her hand—and a gleaming violet chain erupted from beneath Jet, grabbing his wrist mid-step.
Jet's expression didn't even have time to shift.
CRACK—WHAM!
He got yeeted sideways, crashing face-first into a patch of glowing roses.
"Ow! Fuck!" he grunted, kicking them aside.
Lavender dusted her hands. "Stop being childish."
Jet groaned from the floor.
Eirlys stuck her tongue out at him while clinging to Lavender's arm. "S-S-Serves you r-right, dumbass."
Lavender finally turned serious and addressed Eirlys. "Alright. Can you sense anything?"
"Ah—! R-Right…" Eirlys flinched. "U-Uhmm… I-I—I d-don't sense any life. J-Just u-us… and, um, th-the plants…"
"No pulses?"
"N-N-No..."
Jet was finally on his feet again, brushing dirt off. "Great. We're in the world's prettiest cage."
Lavender narrowed her eyes, then looked around with mild irritation.
"Tch… This is annoying."
A gust of wind blew through the shimmering petals.
She raised her hand, signaling.
"We move."
Jet cracked his neck. "Fine by me."
Eirlys nodded quickly.
They moved forward.
Jet brushed a hand against his temple, muttering something about glowing flowers and brain damage. Lavender was ahead, arms folded, eyes half-lidded with quiet calculation. Eirlys stuck close to her—constantly glancing sideways.
Then—
RUMMBLE.
The ground in the distance cracked open, parting with a deep earthy groan like the yawning mouth of a beast. The tremor was gentle at first, just enough to flutter their cloaks, but then it settled—revealing a stairwell, spiral and stone-cut, leading upward from beneath the glowing field.
Jet tensed, one foot stepping back instinctively. "That normal?"
Eirlys clung to Lavender's arm. "I-I-I don't l-l-like that…"
Lavender held a hand up—silent gesture: hold.
And then… they heard it.
Footsteps.
Slow. Upbeat. Humming followed—bright and cheerful, like a child skipping through a meadow. The notes were light, but off just enough to crawl under the skin. Like someone who didn't understand the melody they were singing… or didn't care to.
Jet's voice dropped to a whisper. "There's no cover here."
Lavender muttered, "Then we don't move."
They stood in the open. The wind held its breath.
And then—she arrived.
A woman.
She climbed the last step with a bounce in her stride, swaying slightly as though she heard music in her own head. She wore a loose gardener's apron, moss-stained gloves, and a straw hat tilted back to reveal auburn curls that spilled to her collarbone. Dirt smudged her cheeks like war paint.
Yet despite the rustic attire, her figure—her hips, her waist, her unbothered grace—radiated an almost unsettling allure. Like she wasn't dressed for charm, but couldn't help but be charming.
Her eyes sparkled—until they landed on Jet.
She blinked. Then blinked again.
Her humming stopped. Her lips parted.
"…Oh."
Jet blinked too, arms crossed, weight shifting uncomfortably. "Uh."
Lavender raised an eyebrow. "Friend of yours?"
The gardener woman recovered quickly, tilting her head with a bright grin.
"Who are you guys?" she chirped, hands on her hips. "How'd you end up here? Did Riley send you to collect roses? Ughh, I told him they're not ready yet!"
She huffed dramatically, one hand waving the thought away as she crouched to pluck a nearby sprout, inspecting it like it had personally offended her.
Lavender smiled coolly, stepping forward. "Ah—actually, yes. He didn't want to pressure, just sent us to check if any were viable."
"Typical Riley," the woman sighed. "Tell him to wait. They won't be perfection until the moon sets in three and a half days."
She dusted her apron and pointed vaguely at the stairwell.
"Anyway. Go back through there. And don't touch anything on the way out."
Jet muttered under his breath, "Sounds good to me."
They started moving toward the passage.
But the woman didn't follow them.
She paused.
Then turned—slowly.
Her eyes locked on a patch of ruined flowers nearby—crushed, flattened in the shape of a body.
Exactly where Lavender had yeeted Jet.
A shadow passed over her face.
She didn't speak for a second. Then:
"…Did one of you—do that?"
Jet stopped. Looked back.
Lavender's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Run," she whispered.
"Run," she repeated, louder this time.
Jet didn't ask twice.
"Go!"
Lavender grabbed Eirlys and sprinted.
Jet was right behind, already shifting into a forward vault.
They dashed toward the passage—twenty meters… fifteen…
Then—
SKREEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!
A scream.
Not human.
Not anything.
It tore through the air like a rip in the world, shaking leaves from trees, flattening grass with raw force. Their ears split instantly. Jet grabbed his head and stumbled.
"Fuck! My head!"
Eirlys dropped to her knees, hands pressed tight to her ears, screaming wordlessly.
Even Lavender staggered, a grunt slipping out as her knees bent and one palm slammed into the ground for balance.
The scream wasn't just sound. It was pressure. Like a claw trying to force its way into their skulls. It cracked the light, bent the air. Everything in their vision wavered.
The gardener stood amidst it all, arms relaxed at her sides, auburn hair gently fluttering.
Her voice, when she spoke next, was soft… and cold.
"You crushed my flowers."