The Cage Of Twileigh

The Song of The Gardener

"I am a Primrose. I need no water nor sunlight. I'm just Primrose, but being Primrose is no good. Twileigh Garden is a labyrinth of Ebonmere's hatred. I think I'm ready to go to the afterlife.

"How can I accept my punishment as a Magick? I should have been burned on a stake. I worry a lot. I have a family, but... I'm a monster. My time fades with my happiness. But I can't remember what happened.

"No, no, no... It's all wrong... Did I do this? Or is it how God told me to live? In the end, prayers and songs mean nothing. This place doesn't comfort me; it taunts me. If anything, I'd rather die inside my walls than to live here..."

It has been 186 years since the Dawn of Botanica. Legër repaired most of the damage, but the Twileigh Garden serves as an eerie reminder of the Cataclysm. Primrose Tamora Briarwood - Fischer is a Terra encased in a palace of nightmares. Nocturnal plants and animals thrive in the garden, hence its name.

On the top of a cherry blossom tree lies a desperate woman in a golden cage. She towers above the Bunko Mountains, and wails for her life.

"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree~
Merry, merry king of the bush is he~
Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!
Gay your life must be.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree~
Eating all the gum drops he can see~
Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra!
Leave some there for me​."

For many a year, a poor young woman overlooked all of Ebonmere. From the architecture to the houses, everything screamed for a renovation. While she adapted to being a prisoner, her garden became a forest. The Caged Gardener lost control of her creations.

Through the wretched thickets, to the desolate flowers, she felt trapped. It wasn't even a forest. It was an empire... divested of her control.

The vivid flourish of flowers towered over her head. Magnolias, petunias, roses and lilacs cruised along the empyreal thicket. A proud gardener should smile at the trees, shout Hallelujah and feel at home. The light in her irises indicated peace, but her crackly, British dialect affirmed otherwise. How did her creations expect her to live?

No matter how she adapted to having a chloroplast, she had to resort to other methods. Luckily, she adjusted the bars to grab apples from the tree or to hydrate herself. No matter how hard she tried, nothing eased the pain. So far, she felt like an angel. How could a regular human stand out in the rain without catching a cold? How could she eat anything without getting sick?

Primrose made an apple tree, but it didn't want to grow. The girl shed a tear, but it produced a supply too low.

Young Prim wanted food and water, so she grew some plums. The change of seasons faltered! "Alas, I am so dumb!"

The saintly gardener skipped the last two verses of the lullaby.

She knew them, but she dared not sing.

Now, she felt lost in her own world.

If nobody grabbed her, who would do that honor?

Now, the young gardener had nowhere to go. All she could do was sit and hope the darkness disappeared. Alas, the darkness wouldn't go away.

Twileigh Forest felt like a splendiferous hell. As a Terra Magick, she thought implanting her back with the plants could nourish her tired body. She beckoned her body to move, but her body gave in. Her troubled, brown eyes sauntered around the garden. She wondered, "Is this the saccharine taste of death?"

No...

She didn't want to be here. If anything, she'd rather die in Hibiscus. Primrose yearned for freedom. If God could hear her disdain, He would have removed her strife. The young human deserved better than this. Prim didn't mean anything by her actions; it just... Happened.

Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree~

As the words fell from her chafed lipstick, hot tears fogged her eyeglasses. The damned lullaby rang in her ears. Oh, no; don't sing it! In spite of her apprehension, she continued. Something had to calm her nerves, even just once.

Merry, merry king of the bush is he~

"Merry?" An incredulous laugh escaped her diaphragm. As she did so, Prim clutched at her throat. The grainy cage swung like a pendulum. She tried sneezing it off, but the encrusted powder turned to steel. Her gaze settled on the grisly trails of chlorophyll. If she sneezed or gesticulated, her cage swung to and fro.

How could she be "king" or "queen" of this tragic nightmare? Primrose forced a grimace. Thinking about this lullaby made her sick - and physically sick.

Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra!

At that point, Prim's words fell apart. Her emotions slipped beyond her control. Primrose used to be a melodious singer, which gained attention to most of the listeners. Something forbade her to sing with joy.

Gay... your... life... must---!

The girl choked on her saliva. Something tightened her chest, bringing her to her knees. Her depression engulfed her in bungling vines. While she cried, her suppressed anguish rippled her body. A guttural howl shook her colossal flowers. Her voice grew tired of screaming. It probably traumatized her plants. Again, her sanity spun out of control.

"No... No... Not again..." Twileigh Garden was no more. Here she was, trapped inside a desolate prison.

Without a place to go, she forced herself in ultimate isolation. But someone watched her cry like a baby. They relished the thought of her in absolute miser. Besides, if they had the power to do so, the Royal Republic would feel better to cut off her head.

For now, she hoped everything vanished. Her sadness, sorrow and hatred filled her heart. Primrose looked above her head. A thunderstorm bubbled through the atmosphere. Now, she felt it safe to leave. The pollen grained cage held on for longer than it should.

- CREAK - The hinges gave way to her sifting weight. The banging of the bars proved nothing. She wanted to find solace, but there was nothing she could do. She wailed... Waited... Saw... Nothing.

Only the tempest of winds rocked her cage.