Falling. Fire in the air. Stone breaking. Roots torn from the sky.
Lira gasped.
Renkai was at her side instantly, gripping her shoulders. "Lira. What happened?"
"It's not attacking," she said quickly, breath unsteady. "It's remembering."
The vine's glow deepened. More tendrils uncoiled from the cracked fountain, spreading gently across the stone floor. Not creeping. Not strangling.
Reaching.
"It was part of the sky gardens," Lira whispered. "Before everything fell. It remembers what this world was."
Serelyth stepped closer, awe softening her usual caution. "A botanical memory keeper… I've only heard of such things. Plants that bond with planetary consciousness."
The vine brushed Lira's palm again, then lightly touched Renkai's sleeve.
He froze.
"I swear if it tries anything—"
It pulsed.
Renkai blinked.
For a brief second, he saw it too — sunlight pouring over floating terraces, dragons gliding between hanging orchards, vines woven into living bridges.
