Leshy adored his garden. Bright flowers, strange herbs, even vibrant weeds—it was his little piece of nature, and he took pride in it. So when Narinder approached, arms crossed, he knew something bad was coming.

“Leshy,” Narinder said, tone cold, “Clear out the unnecessary plants. We only need useful crops.”

Leshy blinked, hugging a bundle of wildflowers to his chest. “But... they’re pretty.”

“They’re useless,” Narinder corrected. “This garden is for the cult’s survival, not for decoration. I want them gone.”

Leshy’s face twisted in defiance. “Nooo! I don’t wanna!” he whined, stomping his foot. “You’re a meanie! They’re just flowers! Flowers can’t hurt anyone!”

Narinder pinched the bridge of his nose. “Leshy...”

Leshy dramatically flopped onto the ground, arms sprawled over a patch of clovers. “You don’t understand! You don’t even like plants! You just wanna ruin my fun!”

Narinder exhaled sharply. “This isn’t about fun, it’s about efficiency.”

Leshy gasped. “You hate fun! That’s it, isn’t it? You just want everything to be miserable and gray! Like your boring throne room!”

Narinder’s eye twitched. “Fine. If you won’t do it, I’ll find someone else who will.”

Leshy bolted upright, scandalized. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Narinder turned on his heel. “Watch me.”

Leshy scoffed, sticking out his tongue. “You won’t! You’re just jealous ‘cause your garden’s ugly!”

Narinder clenched his jaw. “One more chance, Leshy.”

Leshy flopped back into the grass, dramatically covering his face. “I’m ignoring you now.”

Narinder seethed. He takes a step forward, wraps his hands around a plant, and yanks it out.