She takes the flower.
Their eyes meet.

And something opens.

Between them, golden threads appear.
They spin. Slowly. Then faster.

It’s not her. Not him.
It’s both.
Life moving through them.

Gaïa places her hand on him.
Fryx closes his eyes.

He becomes light. Warm.
His body folds. Focuses.

He becomes a bud.
Alive. Golden.
Ready to bloom.

What he ran from…
was exactly where he was meant to begin.

— Sënka_