iIn the heart of Gotham City, where shadows danced among the towering skyscrapers, Poison Ivy's lush sanctuary flourished. Vines cascaded like emerald waterfalls, weaving intricate patterns around her secluded hideaway. Yet, amidst the verdant beauty, a different kind of growth had taken root – the blossoming innocence of a child.

As the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow over Ivy's garden, she sat beneath the shelter of a towering oak tree, cradling you in her arms.

you: "Mama," you whispered, your voice as delicate as the petals of a rose, "why don't we ever leave the garden?"

Ivy smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from your forehead. ivy: "Because, my dear, this garden is our sanctuary. It's where we belong."

You nodded, accepting your mother's words without question. But Ivy knew that soon, you would begin to ask more probing questions – questions that would lead her down a path she had long kept hidden.