Capítulo 6: BONUS: Roses have Thorns
Kore's Garden was shrouded in a perpetual twilight, illuminated only by small globes of silver light floating in the air like motionless fireflies. The scent of underground flowers was intense and enveloping, a blend of sweet and earthy fragrances that seemed to root themselves in her senses. Dahlia moved slowly through the vast fields of flowers, a small metal watering can in her hands. Water trickled down in thin streams, shimmering as it soaked into the dark, soft soil.
The garden was magnificent, yet there was something melancholic about it. Each flower, after all, represented a day in which Cragar had loved Kore before her death. In a way, she was walking through the history of a mortal and her father. Dahlia felt completely at ease only in this place, which was why she spent hours upon hours tending to each flower. That space did not truly belong to her, yet, in some way, she was making it hers—stripping it of its role as a mere relic of something not everyone could fully understand.
As she bent over a row of red lilies, her thoughts inevitably returned to her new half-brother. Shirei had arrived only a few days prior, yet he had already become an enigma to her. The previous night, she had watched him disappear into nothingness, swallowed by darkness with a technique well known among the children of Cragar—one she had never been able to master. Spectral Travel was the official name of that ability, a passage between dimensions.
How does he do it so naturally? she had wondered.
It sent shivers down her spine, just as it unsettled her to see and speak with the spirits of the dead—a constant reminder of how deeply she was tied to death, even if she did not wish to be.
Her thoughts returned to her half-brother. Shirei carried himself with an eerie calmness. He never raised his voice, never seemed agitated. Even his gaze felt distant, as if he were observing everything from a different perspective. There was an undeniable resemblance to Cragar in him, both in his appearance and his mannerisms.
Their violet eyes made her uneasy.
She and her father had met only a handful of times, each encounter brief and burdened with awkward formality. Yet, in Shirei's features, Dahlia could clearly recognize those of the god of the dead.
I wonder… perhaps I should have inherited those physical traits as well, she thought, a soft sigh escaping her lips.
A black corset, long hair, pale skin, and blue eyes. She smiled often—perhaps the trait that set her apart most as a daughter of the god of the dead.
Not that I don't feel like an heir of the Underworld, but I sense something else within me, and I can't understand what it is.-
She moved toward a spectral-looking rosebush. The flowers, so deep a red that they were almost black, seemed to glow faintly in the garden's darkness. It was said that this rosebush had been Kore's favorite. Cragar had planted it for her when their love was still young.
Dahlia paused for a moment, trying to imagine her father in love.
She couldn't.
To her, Cragar had always been a distant, almost mythological figure—not a man capable of human emotions. And yet, something in that garden told a different story.
So he really was infatuated… she thought, as the tip of her fingers gently brushed against one of the petals.
The velvety texture of the flower contrasted with the hidden thorns entwined among the branches. Dahlia tried to pick one, but her fingertips accidentally grazed a sharp thorn. She pulled her hand back with a small gasp, bringing it up to her face to observe the tiny drops of blood that had begun to bead at the wounds.
"Fool," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head.
Her voice echoed faintly through the empty garden, sending a shiver down her spine. She ran her thumb over the injured spots, trying to soothe the sting, but the gesture only seemed to make it worse. She felt foolish—like a child who had yet to learn caution.
"I suppose it's time to leave."
As she made her way toward the garden's exit, her thoughts drifted once more to her solitude. It had been so easy to isolate herself after arriving at Lilies Park. No one seemed to want to talk to her, and those who did always spoke with a trace of wariness, as if enduring her presence for just another second with every word.
The children of Cragar had never been well-liked, and she knew it.
They don't even need to know me to judge me, she thought bitterly.
And then there was her past to contend with.
More than a century spent trapped in a temporal bubble, caught in a fabricated world where each day was an exact replica of the last. It hadn't been a life—just an illusion. But that world, empty and artificial as it was, had given her a sense of stability that she now missed terribly.
In the Otherworld, everything felt fragmented, unstable, and she—Dahlia Arcesio—felt like a foreigner among both mortals and Blendbreeds.
She stopped before the garden's gates and lifted her head toward the rocky ceiling above. The silver lights seemed dimmer now, as if they, too, shared her exhaustion.
She thought of Marina—the only person who seemed to truly care for her without prejudice. The daughter of Ien was her anchor, the sole reason she didn't feel completely invisible.
If it weren't for her, I doubt I would have had the resolve to stay here, she admitted to herself.
With one last glance at Kore's Garden, she decided it was time to return to the surface. The garden's air, though rich with fragrance and beauty, was beginning to feel suffocating. She set the watering can down beside one of the flower beds and turned toward the staircase—unaware that the object had just vanished.
Perhaps she would find her place, someday.
But for now, that day still seemed unbearably far away.
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