Chapter 71 – Whispering Petals

With a plan in mind, the trio decided to descend towards the outer edge of the eastern quadrant. Makara, who is leading the owl, signalled it by tapping its head, and the owl responded by beginning to fly down. As they dropped lower, closer to the ground, a fragrance began to fill the air, subtle enough to be barely noticeable. The scent was sweet and alluring, a heady blend of flowers. The trio thought the fragrance was coming from the flower fields and didn’t give a thought further.

When they finally landed at the outermost corner of the flower field, the owl was disturbed by the fragrance and shook its head. As the trio dismounted, the owl made a screech sound and spread its massive wings and took off quickly and flew above the fragrance layer and landing on the withered old tree in one of the mountain cracks. The trio saw the owl fly away, but didn’t give a thought about it and moved on to scanning their surroundings. The field stretched endlessly before them, a sea of roses in perfect symmetry, their vibrant hues shimmering under the sunlight.

As they took their first steps, they noticed figures moving between the rows of flowers—figures they hadn’t seen from above. At first glance, it appeared to be the fields were alive, but their pale green skin blended seamlessly with the garden’s lush colours.

Selena’s sharp gaze narrowed. “Gardners?” she murmured under his breath, though the word carried an air of uncertainty.

The figures were unsettling in their serene appearance. Their skin had a faint luminescence, like sunlight filtering through leaves. Their long hair flowed like cascading vines, reaching down to the ground and covering most of their faces, leaving only their mouths visible.

Their attire was simple yet haunting. Loose, flowing garments—predominantly soft green with dark green accents—cloaked their forms. The design was plain yet elegant, reminiscent of the natural curves and folds of leaves. The wide sleeves and hem of the garments moved with the wind. No hands or feet were visible beneath the fabric; they floated as if weightless, their movements silent and deliberate.

Around them, bees and butterflies flitted in harmonious rhythm, completing the picture of a serene yet unnerving tableau. The gardeners moved with an almost hypnotic grace, tending to the roses with a reverence that bordered on worship. The flowers responded in kind, blooming brighter in their presence, as if thriving under their silent care. The trio kept their movements slow and deliberate, their goal to avoid drawing attention. “Let’s move as quietly as possible,” Selena whispered, her hand brushing against the hilt of her spear “They don’t seem to see us and let’s try to keep it that way.”

Makara gave a curt nod, his large frame carefully manoeuvring between the rows of roses. Shawn led the way, his focus unwavering as he scanned for any signs of danger. But as fate took its own path, as Makara noticed his sake gourd had unfrozen and decided to take a sip, as he drank while moving, he stepped on a stick on the ground, then a sharp snap broke the tranquil silence.

Instantly, every gardener froze in place, their movements halting like a choreographed pause. Then, as if responding to an unspoken signal, they all turned their gaze in unison toward the trio.

A chill ran down Selena’s spine as she realised the intensity of their unseen gazes. Though their faces were hidden by the veils of hair, the weight of their attention was palpable, pressing down on the trio like a tangible force.

Their gaze was so powerful that Selena instinctively reached for her spear, her muscles tensing with sweat. Shawn shifted into a defensive stance. While Makara removed his gourd from his mouth with a satisfied sound of having a drink after a long time, not know what was happening around him. Then Makara noticed Shawn and Selena stopped, and saw that both Shawn and Selena were in shock and in defensive position because of his action. Makara wondered why they were in shock and defensive, then he looked further around to see that the gardeners had noticed them.

The air grew heavy, and the trio stood without moving. The gardeners are staring at them, then, from nowhere and everywhere at once, a voice echoed through the garden—a voice as soft and chilling as a whisper carried by the wind.

“So, who are you?”

The trio froze as the voice echoed within their minds, not from the air around them but seemingly from the depths of their consciousness. Selena’s eyes darted between Shawn and Makara, her fingers tightening around her weapon. “Did… you guys hear that too?” she asked, her voice a low whisper.

The trio looked around the gardeners, trying to find the source among the crowd glazing at them. Shawn nodded, his expression sharp and focused. “Yes, I heard it, but I cannot sense from which direction it is originating.”

Makara, with his drunk tone, got confused. “Shawn, this sake is too strong, that I started hearing things.”

Shawn and Selena gave Makara a weird look.

Before they could delve into more questions, the voice spoke again, calm yet resonating with an undeniable authority. “Because of the fragrance of the flowers. The fragrance is infused with the air you are breathing in. It has permeated your senses, linking your minds to mine. That is why you can hear my voice.”

The explanation did little to ease Shawn and Selena’s nerves, but Makara didn’t care much. A tense silence followed, broken only by the faint rustling of petals in the breeze, with the gardeners still glazing the trio. Then the voice’s tone shifted, becoming sharper, more commanding. “Now, do not make me repeat myself. Who are you, and why are you here?” with the surrounding bushes hushed in shaking to the voice.

Before Shawn and Selena would react, drunken Makara stepped forward, clearing his throat with a deep rumble and raising a clenched fist near his mouth, a gesture of resolve. He spoke not to the air but as if addressing the unseen force directly. “We are messengers and we bring a message,” he declared, his voice steady but carrying the weight of caution. “From Prince Zhao to his sister.”

The voice faltered momentarily, as if caught off guard, at the mention of Prince Zhao. A faint, almost inaudible hum filled the air, like the trembling strings of an unseen harp. Then it resumed, its tone measured but tinged with curiosity. “Prince Zhao, you say? Very well, and what is this message you carry?”

Selena stepped forward, her posture rigid and resolute. Her voice was calm but firm, but became doubtful in her voice by the end of her sentence. “The message is meant for the princess alone. We are under strict orders not to divulge its contents to anyone else or any voice.”

The voice paused, a heavy silence descending over the field. Finally, it spoke again, its tone now a mixture of intrigue and acceptance. “Fine, then. If the message is truly for the princess’s ears alone, you shall have an audience with the princess.”

At that, the gardeners moved with an eerie synchronicity. Ten of them floated forward towards the trio, their movements fluid as if carried by an unseen wind. The trio stood their ground, seeing the gardeners move towards them, but they encircled the trio—five in front and five behind—forming an orderly escort. The mysterious voice echoed once more: “Follow them, they will be your chaperone.”

As the group began to move with Makara in front, Shawn and Selena behind him, the seemingly impenetrable garden responded to their advance. The cramped, layered flora shifted and parted, as though alive, creating a narrow yet clear path. Vines unwound, blossoms folded away themselves to pave a route. The trio walked cautiously.

Selena’s eyes flicked between the shifting landscape and the silent gardeners. “This place is… unnatural,” she muttered under her breath.

“Stay sharp,” Makara replied, his voice slightly slurred as he clenched his fists. “Just because they’re leading us doesn’t mean we’re safe.” He took another swig from his gourd, the faint scent of sake wafting through the air.

Shawn and Selena exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of disbelief and exasperation at his nonchalant demeanour.

The gardeners, with their hair veiled faces and eerily graceful movements, seemed to glide rather than walk, their silence as unnerving as the ever-shifting garden around them.

As the path continued to morph and twist, Selena glanced around uneasily, her gaze drifting back to the gardeners. Her curiosity finally got the better of her. “So,” she began, her voice steady but probing, “what kind of person is this princess? And why does she live here, secluded in the mountains?”

The gardeners gave no response, their silence more unsettling than reassuring. After a moment, the voice returned, its tone faintly amused. “The princess is unlike anyone you have ever met. You’ll soon see for yourselves.”

There was a brief pause, a hesitance that hung thick in the air before the voice continued. “As for why she resides here… it is because…” The voice faltered, the earlier confidence giving way to a note of hesitation. Finally, it resumed, quieter but resolute: “…because she was cursed.”

The cryptic words lingered in the air like a shadow as the trio pressed on, their guarded steps echoing softly. Behind them, the towering vines and shifting gardens closed in, returning to their original forms as though erasing all traces of their passage.

Shawn tilted his head slightly, his curiosity overriding caution. “Cursed, you say? How was the princess cursed?” His tone was measured, but the weight of his question hung in the air.

The voice responded with palpable irritation, its sharp edge carrying the weight of authority and pride. “Are you here to deliver a message or to pry into the princess’s story?”.

The rebuke struck hard, making Shawn and Selena exchange uneasy glances. Shawn realised he might have overstepped. However, Makara shrugged and walked ahead, his expression indifferent as he took another swig from his gourd.

Shawn quickly thinks and tries to diffuse the tension. “I meant no offence,” he said earnestly. “I was just curious. I’m from a small village at the outskirts of the Azurian Kingdom and have never heard much about the life of the royal family.”

The voice scoffed, its tone laced with a biting pride. “Fine then, you ignorant whelp, listen closely. I will tell you the princess’s story.”