When Akame opened her eyes, the air smelled different.
Gone was the humid weight of the garden, the scent of earth and mist.
Instead, the air was sharp.
Like cut flowers and iron.
She was standing, though she didn't remember getting up.
The ground beneath her was solid now, cool stone, the damp heat replaced by something else entirely—something crisp, something unnervingly quiet.
She took a slow, uneven breath.
The fog that had once surrounded her was gone, but in its place stood something worse.
Walls of roses.
Tall. Towering.
Their deep red petals curled in perfect, suffocating bloom, climbing high above her head, blocking any exit, any escape.
But it wasn't the roses that made her pulse quicken.
It was the thorns.
They jutted from the vines like jagged teeth, curling toward the sky in sharp, spiraled patterns, glistening under the dim light like they had already drawn blood before.
And maybe they had.
Because at her feet, lining the maze path—
Were scattered red petals, wilted, stained darker at the edges.
Akame exhaled sharply.
The air felt thick again, but not like before.
This was different.
Not suffocating.
Not cloying.
Heavy.
She took a step forward, boots barely making a sound against the stone, and as she did—
The roses shifted.
A slow, rustling sound, like fabric sliding against skin, like something alive but waiting.
Akame's chest tightened.
She wasn't alone.
Someone else was in this maze.
And she had a feeling she already knew who.
The moment Akame stepped forward, the maze shifted.
The roses, impossibly tall, loomed like silent sentinels, their vines coiled in perfect, unnatural patterns.
It wasn't just a hedge—it was a prison, twisting and curving in ways that felt calculated.
Like something—or someone—was leading her somewhere.
Her breath came slow, steady, but the weight in her chest refused to leave.
She glanced behind her.
No exit.
Only walls of red.
The further she walked, the heavier the scent of roses became—thick, intoxicating, clinging to her lungs.
And the thorns—
They weren't just sharp.
They were watching.
She swore she saw them move, inch closer, stretch toward her whenever she wasn't looking directly at them.
Akame clenched her fists.
She needed to stay focused.
This was a dream.
A fever dream, a nightmare, a hallucination—something.
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SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker
Fanfiction❝ She was like light slipping through the cracks-out of place, yet impossible to ignore.❞ Akame finds herself in a world that was never meant for her, a quiet contrast to Furin's chaos. But in a place that challenges her at every turn, she begins to...
