The Unyielding Bloom

Previously

…“I think,” she whispered, a small smile gracing her lips, “I’m starting to understand it.” As the last vestiges of the emerald glow faded from her hands, a single, perfect white blossom unfurled from the moss at her feet, its petals impossibly delicate, its fragrance a sweet balm to the wild air. It was a silent testament to the unyielding bloom that was awakening within her. The Whispering Woods, it seemed, had begun to share its secrets.