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𝕊𝕒𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕒 𝕒𝕟𝕕 ℝ𝕠𝕫 wander farther and farther into the woodland, the scraggly branches unsystematically scattering throughout.
Sabrina halts at a large, solid tree for a moment, her hand softly brushing over the layers of dense moss that encase the bark, whispering, "Roz, do you hear that?"
Sabrina then continues striding forward, a divine sound radiating in the atmosphere, consuming their eardrums.
"It's like singing,"
The girls trudge through the uneven forest floor, under the snarling branches, over the mounds of blood and rubble, passing by the groaning souls, until they finally reach a small clearing up ahead.
They locate the origin of the angel-like humming, as they round the corner. Sabrina jogs over to the area, squatting down to get a better look, Roz mimicking her actions,
"That's it, the flower of evil, it has to be,"
Both girls admire the small plant that is swaying side-to-side, performing a heavenly tune. The flora is only knee-height and has two protruding coral-like structures on each side of its base.
Upon further inspection, the plant appears to have a small face and a mouth, resembling a snap-dragon plant.
On the top of the Fleur Du Mal, there are two antennae-like pieces that string out to the ground. The entire stem is lined with thick, sharp spikes. Blood-red thorns.
Roz's orbs light up, outstretching her hand to touch the delicate stems, "Is the flower really singing? It's like something out of a fairy-tale,"
"Roz, wait!" she grabs her friend's wrist, pulling it away before she can touch it, "We have to be careful that the thorns don't prick us."
Roz's complexion pales, her voice shaky, "Why, what happens if they prick us?"
"If they break our skin, we go to sleep andnever wake up."
Her orbs widen as she pulls out her rusty scissors from her tote slowly, her hands mildly shaking,
"Oh,"
•••
Athena exits out of the suit, shutting the heavy, wooden door behind her. She strolls confidently down the lengthy hallway, her red high-heels ticking against the stone flooring with every step.
She outstretches her arm and briefly runs her fingers over the brick walls, the heat emitting from the sconces tingles her skin.
She gets to the end of the hall, looking down at glossy, metal staircase, before taking her first steps onto it.
Her hand grips the railing, to steady her figure, radiating comfort like an old childhood blanket.
As Athena reaches the bottom of the grand-staircase she glances around the vast foyer, her brown orbs going in all directions.
