The flower between the graves wasn't beautiful.
It was obscene in its perfection - petals like fresh parchment, stem pulsing with veins of liquid moonlight. When Payune reached to touch it, the world folded inside out.
Memory:
Mother's hands, caked with grave dirt, pressing seeds into freshly turned earth
"Foxfire for cleverness," she whispered, planting the blue-tinged seed to the left
"Dragonbone for strength," as the darker one sank into the right plot
Then, barely audible: "And forgetfulness for the one who wouldn't stop crying."
Hayuni's claws dug into Payune's arm. "We're fucking metaphors."
The flower laughed in seven distinct voices.
The sky peeled back like oven doors, revealing:
1. The Cosmic Bakery
Walls lined with jars labeled in childish script (First Kisses, Broken Promises, The Exact Moment You Realized You Were Alone)
A butter knife that wept when touched
An egg timer counting down from INFINITY
2. The Missing Candidates
Seven figures kneaded dough at a marble counter, their:
Fingers worn to bone
Eyes replaced with raisins
Mouths moving in silent recipe recitation
3. The Head Baker
The Eclipse wore an apron stitched from:
Payune's stolen baby teeth
Hayuni's severed tails
The Dragonlord's wedding ring
It pointed a rolling pin at Mother. "You forgot the vanilla."
Their shovels bit into the graves with unnatural resistance - the earth didn't want to give up its secrets.
Hayuni's Grave Contents:
A moth-eaten fox pelt with her exact scar pattern
Nine blue marbles that screamed when rolled
A note: "Good girls don't cry. Good foxes don't get caught."
Payune's Grave Contents:
A dragon figurine missing its left wing
Charcoal sketches of a family that never existed
The scent of burning hair
Then they reached the third grave. Smaller. Unmarked.
The shovel struck something metallic.
Mother finally moved, her form unraveling like over-kneaded dough. "Don't—"
Too late.
What they unearthed:
A Music Box
Engraved with three names (two crossed out)
Played a lullaby in reverse
Contained a single tooth that wasn't human
The Truth
The seeds were never just seeds
The graves were never just graves
There were always three
The Baker's Secret Ingredient
The Eclipse licked its lips. "Every recipe needs... leavening."
The flower bloomed violently, petals forming a familiar face.