You Can Ask The Flowers
The moonlight caught the sharp lines of his face, emphasizing the otherworldly beauty that marked him as something beyond mortal ken.
"The plants have been singing differently tonight," he murmured, his gaze never leaving hers. "Their voices carry warnings I've never heard before. They're afraid, Iris. And if they're afraid, then we should be terrified."
The memory rose at the garden's heart pulsed with sudden urgency, its petals unfurling to release a wave of visions that washed over them both. Iris gasped as images flooded her mind—Evangeline's approach, the systematic destruction of the garden, Damien's face twisted with bloodlust as he surrendered to his maker's will.