Traum von Asterhive

The Spire

You seem to climb stairs for an eternity until it finally ends. When it does, you don't believe it.

It leads to a round circular rooftop garden bigger than it has any right to be, and more alive than anything should be. The ground seems hungry, nibbling at your bare soles. The flowers turn their heads to you. The branches stretch out like curved claws.

You ignore them, and they politely ignore you in turn.

When you come to the edge of the spire, you see that you're so high up that you can't even glimpse the rest of the building below. The clearest bit of the mall you can spy is the broken viewing deck perhaps a mile away, its tilted top reminding you of a tilted top.

It makes you sad somehow.

Floating about ten feet above from the edge of the spire is another circular garden. From this second garden, a girl sits.

No, not a girl, you realize, but a woman, simply kneeling

"Who are you?" you ask.

The woman stops what she's doing. She turns to you, and you see eyes obsidian black stare into your soul.

"Isn't it obvious?" she says, rising. She is wreathed in a dress of flowers and currency like some twisted nature goddess. A crown of golden thorns and stars rest upon her brow.

"I'm the Queen of Asterhive."