The mists parted like woven silk as Lina stepped beneath the final archway of shimmering light. What awaited beyond was unlike anything she could have imagined, a realm both wondrous and alive—a vast valley cradled within the Hollowed Garden's very core.
The ground beneath her feet pulsed softly, veins of light snaking across the emerald grass like rivers of pure starlight. Towering trees stretched toward the sky, their trunks glimmering as though carved from crystalline sap. Leaves whispered secrets with every breath of wind, each a mosaic of shifting colors—emerald fading into violet, then molten gold, as if the garden breathed a living kaleidoscope.
The air sang with an ancient melody, a hum woven from the flutter of countless invisible wings and the steady heartbeat of the earth itself. A deep pulse resonated beneath the soil, and Lina could feel it reverberating through her bones—a rhythm shared between the garden and herself.
Her butterfly companion led the way, wings shimmering with colors so vibrant they seemed to hum with magic. Its movements were more deliberate now, each beat of its wings carrying weight and purpose as it guided her toward the valley's heart.
Before her stood a raised mound, crowned by a colossal blossom the size of a wagon wheel. Its petals glimmered like molten glass, translucent yet glowing with inner fire. At the center of the flower rested a metallic object—a key, shimmering faintly with the light of dawn.
Her pulse quickened. This was the prize she sought, the third and final key.
But the garden's beauty was not a passive thing. Lina could feel it watching, alive in every rustle of leaves, in every soft shift of petals. Even the ground beneath her feet responded, rippling softly as if breathing.
Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Lina stepped forward. Her foot met the glowing path that stretched from the entrance to the mound, a ribbon of pure light pulsing in sync with her heartbeat.
At once, the garden responded. The air thickened, colors sharpened to vivid clarity, and the melody swelled into a symphony that vibrated through the very air, pressing gently against her skin and filling her with a fierce, thrilling energy.
Vines unfurled along the path, stretching like eager hands welcoming her passage. Each step sent ripples of light radiating outward, the echo of her movement flowing through the valley like waves.
The butterfly darted ahead, then circled back, beckoning her onward with urgent flicks of its iridescent wings.
Halfway to the mound, Lina paused. The glowing path ahead crossed a vast pool of liquid crystal. Its surface mirrored not her present self, but flickered with glimpses of other versions of her: an older Lina cloaked in feathers, a younger one running barefoot through a forest, another holding the butterfly—its wings dark and unfamiliar.
Her breath caught.
This was a mirror of potential selves, a glimpse into lives she might live, or fears she might harbor.
The pool rippled gently, inviting yet warning. Lina stepped onto its surface, heart pounding. The crystal water held her weight, ripples of light trailing with each step she took.
Suddenly, the water beneath her shuddered violently. The harmonious symphony twisted into a growling tremor that shook the valley's edges.
From the depths of the pool, a shadow rose—a colossal serpent formed of living wood, its body armored with twisted thorn-like spines, eyes glowing amber with fierce intelligence.
The Thorn Serpent had awakened.
Its hiss was the sound of dry leaves skittering across ancient stone. The butterfly darted to Lina's shoulder, wings trembling as the serpent's gaze locked onto her.
"You carry the light," it rumbled, voice like roots splitting rock, "but not the right."
Lina's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing. "I'm not here to steal. The garden chose me."
The serpent's spines rattled in a warning, the air thickening with tension. "Permission is not ownership. Passage is not claim."
The butterfly's wings shimmered with unearthly hues that danced beyond human sight, and the serpent's eyes narrowed, recognizing the mark Lina bore.
"You bear the wing-mark," it said, a mix of reverence and challenge in its voice.
Lina touched the faint luminous pattern on her forearm. "What does it mean?"
Without warning, the serpent lunged. Water shattered into a storm of light and droplets as it surged forward with terrifying speed.
Lina dove aside, landing hard but steady on the glowing path. The serpent's thorny spines slammed into the spot where she had just stood, splinters of light scattering like falling stars.
"No weapons," Lina thought desperately. "Just me."
The butterfly looped around the serpent's head, dazzling it with flashes of impossible color. Lina dashed forward, feet pounding the radiant path, heart thundering with fear and determination.
The serpent's tail whipped like a scythe, narrowly missing her as she leapt away. The force of the air knocked her off balance, but she scrambled to her feet, refusing to yield.
The serpent circled, gathering energy, before unleashing a volley of thorn-tipped vines that lashed toward her. One snagged her cheek, a searing sting that made tears spring to her eyes.
She called upon the mark again, summoning the light that dwelled within her, letting it flow to her hands, her breath, her core.
The mark blazed, and the path beneath her feet pulsed brighter, waves of radiant energy flowing outward in ripples.
The serpent froze, its eyes narrowing. "You know not what you hold," it warned.
"I know enough," Lina said fiercely, though doubt gnawed within her.
The butterfly alighted on her hand, wings beating in time with the pulse inside her. Lina's senses sharpened—every droplet of light, every leaf, every quiver in the air became vivid and clear.
The serpent lunged again, but this time she anticipated its move, sliding along the glowing path and striking its thorned scale with a surge of light.
The serpent recoiled, a roar shaking the valley. The flowering mound trembled, petals folding protectively.
Suddenly, a figure appeared, stepping from the mists—a tall being cloaked in robes that shimmered like the night sky, embroidered with stars that seemed to flicker and shift. A smooth silver mask concealed their face, save for two golden eye-slits that glowed faintly in the dim light.
With a raised hand, the figure halted the serpent mid-attack, vines binding the creature in place like living chains.
Lina stared, breath catching. "Who are you?"
The voice was neither male nor female but echoed with calm authority. "The Heart tests all who seek its keys. Few survive the trial, fewer are chosen."
"Chosen for what?" Lina demanded.
"That is not yet for you to know."
The serpent's amber eyes blazed with fury beneath its wooden bonds.
The figure stepped forward, a gentle wave of magic clearing the haze. "Your mark burns brighter than most. The path ahead is perilous, but you are not alone."
Lina's heart thudded. For the first time, the Garden seemed less like a vast enigma and more like a place willing to fight alongside her.
Together, they approached the giant blossom. The petals pulsed softly, responding to the trio's presence. The key at its heart shimmered with growing intensity, beckoning.
Lina reached out, feeling the light of the key call to her own mark. Just as her fingers brushed the smooth metal, a sudden chill swept the valley—the shadow of a presence darker than the Hollow itself.
The butterfly's wings fluttered in alarm. "The Hollow stirs. We must be swift."
Lina grasped the key. Light surged through her veins, a blaze of warmth and power. She felt the Garden's heartbeat sync with hers, ancient magic thrumming through her very soul.
But the masked figure stepped back, face hidden beneath their silver mask. "This is but the beginning. Greater trials await. And the butterfly's truth will soon demand your courage."
Lina's mind swirled with questions, but for now, the key was hers. The Garden's magic had chosen her—and she would need every ounce of its strength for what came next.