Cornelius decided to approach his search for Flora with a more relaxed attitude. Unlike his encounter with Dusk, there was no looming darkness here, only landscapes and open skies. It seemed fitting to enjoy it while he could. He wandered through the meadows, inhaling the sweet scent of countless flowers in bloom. A new fragrance drifted past him every few steps, lavender, rose, something citrusy he couldn’t name.

  Cornelius spotted a wooden signpost planted in the grass ahead as he made his way deeper into the gardens. Two arrows pointed in opposite directions. One pointed right, labeled Swan Lake, and the other pointed left toward The Garden of Eden.

  One has water, one has plants, Cornelius thought, tilting his head. I should go toward the plants.

  He patted himself mentally for figuring it out without help and headed left.

  When he arrived at the entrance to the Garden of Eden, he stopped in his tracks. The place was bigger and more intricate than he expected. Thick rose bushes outlined the garden like natural walls, their thorns forming a protective barrier. Small ponds reflected the sunlight, their surfaces rippling gently as koi fish and tiny frogs darted between the lily pads. Carefully placed stones formed paths that split toward different parts of the garden, and little signs on metal stakes described the flowers and plants that grew along the way. Cornelius leaned in to read a few, detailed notes about origins, growth habits, and even mythical properties. He was impressed.

  In the center of it all stood a massive apple tree, its branches heavy with green and red fruit. Its trunk twisted high into the air, standing like the heart of the entire garden.

  Beneath the tree, Cornelius finally spotted Flora. Her frame was lean, built more for endurance than brute strength, and she carried herself with a steady, grounded grace. Her clothes were simple, earthy tones of brown and green. They were practical garments that blended seamlessly with the forests and gardens she nurtured. Her wings, mottled in muted greens and browns, resembled the foliage of an ancient tree. Flora's hair was short and jagged, falling across one sharp yellow-green eye, with streaks of mossy green cutting through the darker strands.

  She stood barefoot in the grass, loosely holding a small green garden snake between her fingers. When she noticed Cornelius approaching, she knelt and placed the snake carefully onto the ground, watching it slither away into the tall grass without a word.

  "Good job! You found me," Flora said. Her words sounded cheerful, but her voice stayed flat, and her expression barely shifted except for a faint, polite smile.

  "The name makes sense," Cornelius chuckled as he approached.

  Flora nodded. "I protect all things, not just angels. I protect flora and fauna alike. Creative name, right?"

  "At least it looks like you’re enjoying yourself," Cornelius said, glancing around at the vibrant garden. He brushed some pollen off his robe. "I’m gathering angels to help build my kingdom."

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  "Meh," Flora said with a shrug.

  Cornelius blinked, caught off guard by the nonchalant response.

  "I don’t want to go to your kingdom," Flora continued, folding her arms. "It’s just clouds. Boring for someone like me. No trees. No flowers. Nothing worth staying for."

  Cornelius opened his mouth, but before he could reply, a voice came from behind the apple tree.

  “He could make you a garden.”

  Cornelius turned quickly. A man stepped out from behind the trunk. He carried himself with the easy arrogance of someone who had never been forced to try hard. He was tall and lean. Tousled blonde hair fell into his eyes, and a lazy smirk was almost a permanent fixture on his face; a smile suggested he always knew a little more than he let on. Unlike the other angels, Troy bore no wings. A solitary halo floated over his head. He extended a hand toward Cornelius.

  "Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. I’m Troy," he said.

  Cornelius shook Troy’s hand briefly, though he kept his eyes on him longer than necessary, sizing him up.

  Flora, noticing something odd, pointed at Troy’s other hand. "What’s that behind your back?"

  Troy stiffened. "It’s nothing!" he said a little too quickly.

  Flora waved her hand before he could hide it, and a vine shot up from the ground, yanking his hidden arm forward.

  Four apples tumbled to the ground.

  "You can’t keep stealing my apples!" Flora snapped, the first real spark of emotion flickering into her voice.

  "They’re not your apples," Troy said defensively, brushing dirt off his tunic. "If they belong to anyone, it’s King Cornelius’s property now."

  Cornelius shrugged, a slight grin forming on his face. "Actually, it makes sense for the garden, and everything living inside it, to belong to Flora."

  Troy sighed dramatically and dropped the apples. A group of squirrels scurried from a nearby bush, seizing the fruit immediately and gnawing into it. Troy stepped back, retreating into the shadow of the apple tree again.

  Cornelius turned back to Flora. "If this garden means so much to you, what if I made you one even bigger? Taller trees, larger ponds, rarer flowers. I could even create brand-new species for you if you wanted."

  "You’d do that for me?" Flora asked, tilting her head, though her voice quickly flattened back to her usual neutral tone.

  "If that is what you wish, you shall have it," Cornelius said with a light laugh.

  Flora gave a slow nod of agreement.

  Before they could leave, Flora pointed toward Troy’s hiding spot behind the tree. "What about him?"

  Cornelius barely glanced over. "He doesn’t seem to have any importance to the realm. He’s free to stay or go as he pleases."

  Hidden behind the tree, Troy’s expression darkened.

  No importance to the realm? He thought bitterly.

  Cornelius and Flora disappeared a second later in a flash of teleportation, leaving Troy alone.

  He stared at the space where they had stood, fists tightening at his sides.

  "I’m very important to the realm," he muttered.

  A squirrel from earlier crept closer, sniffing at his feet. Troy stared down at it, his face blank.

  "You think I’m important, don’t you?" he said to the small creature.

  The squirrel, of course, gave no reply.

  Without warning, a blast of cosmic light erupted from Troy’s palm. Only a thin pile of ash remained where the squirrel had been when the light faded.

  "They’ll see," Troy whispered, staring at his reflection in the pond nearby, "They’ll all see."