Blossoming Light 소설 & 이야기

It seemed he knew something when Noah said the word “Starlight” On the other hand, Lux was trying to calm down and took a deep breath. The blonde-haired girl had a faint smile on her face, “Huft … looks like I have to use that. Like it or not, I have to do it in an emergency like this. In fact, I really don't want to use it because the side effects are quite troublesome.” Lux who showed a calm expression and she suddenly smiled faintly, it made the man who attacked her feel that something was strange.

A white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small, shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her, as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes, it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her.

The three blossoms seem to sway in joyful agreement, mirroring the life burgeoning within me. This is not the end; it’s an extraordinary beginning. We didn’t just avert a disaster; we paved the way for miracles yet to come. My eyes shift from the Keeper, finally settling on the blossoms. “The blossoms symbolise the purity and potential of these lives,” the Keeper explains. “Like you, they will play a part in the greater realms.” I look at those blossoms, gently bobbing as though affirming the Keeper’s words, a sense of awe washes over me. They are lives, just as real as the struggle we had just been through, just as meaningful as the love and unity that had emerged from it.

What's going on—" Her words faltered as Damien pressed a button. In an instant, the oppressive darkness was replaced with a breathtaking display of shimmering lights. The scenery before her was magical, like something out of a dream. Majestic archways adorned with twinkling lights stretched as far as her eyes could see. Each arch was intricately designed with delicate white metalwork, interwoven with clusters of vibrant flowers. Fairy lights danced across the vivid blooms, their colors blending into a mesmerizing spectrum. String lights cascaded above them, adding to the enchantment.

A sharp inhale escapes her lips, caught between surprise and awe. Before her unfolds an enchanting garden, bathed in the golden hues of lantern light. Lanterns dangle gracefully from the limbs of ancient trees, their warm glow casting an ethereal radiance over the scene. Flowers bloom in abundant clusters, their petals a delicate blend of white and pale blue, glistening like jewels under the soft illumination.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

Then his voice, familiar and comforting: "Blossom, all you need to do is open your eyes. You're not dreaming, my love." Really?... (I force my eyes open) --- "Why is everything so bright?" I ask, blinking against the overwhelming light. "We were just in a dark cellar. Give your eyes a moment to adjust," Dean advises gently. As I rub my eyes, waiting for the piercing whiteness to resolve into shapes, I become aware of sounds around us. The soft, calming rhythm of waves. I feel warmth embracing my skin once more, and a thrill of excitement surges through me as I wonder where we might be.

Nothing. The clouds break overhead, opening on the gibbous moon like curtains on a stage. The woods are suddenly bathed in an eerie pale light. Luminous. White. Like the blossoms of the ashbalm in my little garden plot.

I stopped mid-step on the balcony where I often came to watch the empty night, my breath catching in my throat as I stared at that impossible point of light. Then another appeared. Then another. Then hundreds bloomed across the darkness like silver wounds healing in the sky, like flowers opening to greet a dawn that had been delayed for far too long. They emerged with increasing urgency, as though making up for lost time, reclaiming the territory that had been stolen from them.