Chapter 13. Beneath the Willow Veins

The Garden of Alchemy revealed itself only after Lora passed through a narrow iron door set into the tower’s ancient foundations, one whose hinges sighed under her touch. Beyond lay a space far removed from the pale terraces of Elysor that she had come to know so well—this was a realm of soft shadows and gentle luminescence, secret and hushed, as if the stone itself had learned to breathe.

High above, the vaulted ceiling arched like the belly of some sleeping beast, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly in silver light. Thin shafts of moonbeams filtered through hidden grates, illuminating marble walls overgrown with vines whose leaves glinted a cool, argent green. Their blossoms—pearlescent cups no larger than her palm—opened only when the night was at its quietest, exhaling petals that smelled of crushed mint and honeycomb.

Along the floor, willows stood sentinel, their roots as thick and knotted as rivers of veins, creeping across the ground in slow, poetic