β
Begrudgingly, he made the tiniest of flowers bloom in his hand. Then, Isla turned to Oro. It hurt to look at him. His eyes were not hollow, not lifeless, but full of pain. Fear. Determination. She remembered a time when they had only been filled with love. Slowly, he uncurled his fingers. Petals dripped from them, onto the floor, roses tipped in thorns.
β
β