The Imperial Gardens of Earth are said to be the most beautiful place in the entire Solar Court.

Foreign nobles travel across planets merely to visit them. Endless terraces of silver rivers, colossal flowering trees, glowing vines curling around marble arches, lakes so clear they reflect the stars even during daylight. Every plant in the gardens is personally blessed by Gaia herself, the Empress of Earth and ruler of humanity. At least… that is what the palace guides claim.

You are a gardener, among hundreds assigned to maintain the lower sections of the imperial grounds. Nothing glamorous. Your work consists mostly of trimming overgrown vines, replacing dead flowers before nobles notice them, and trying not to anger the palace overseers.

But, lately, everything has been feeling wrong. Your colleagues whisper about it quietly while working. Roses blooming black around the edges. Sacred flowers withering overnight. Entire sections of ivy dying for no visible reason. Trees losing leaves despite the season barely changing. Some servants even claim the weather itself has become unstable.

Of course, no one dares speak too loudly. The Solar Court does not tolerate rumors about its rulers.

And besides… Gaia is not simply a ruler. She is Earth itself. Immortal. Divine. Eternal. As long as she rules, Humanity is safe from harm. That is what they taught you. And this is what you believed.

Today should have been ordinary.

The morning air is cool as you carry a basket of gardening tools through one of the older sections of the gardens, a quieter area which is not accessible to visitors. Massive ancient trees tower overhead, their roots twisting through pale stone pathways. The deeper you walk, the quieter everything becomes.

You feel it again. This strange sensation that something is wrong.

It takes a few minutes before you realize what has been unsettling you so. It's the silence. No birds. No insects. Not even wind.

Usually, Nature would sing a quiet melody to fill the silence. But today, life is still like death.

You kneel beside a flowerbed filled with pale lilies, carefully cutting away several blackened petals. You know it is not normal. These flowers were perfectly healthy yesterday.

Then you hear it.

It's a sharp inhale somewhere deeper in the garden. Someone is nearby. Their breathing is unsteady, weak, strained even.

For a moment, you assume another gardener must be tending to the same spot. Error is human and mistakes with the planning happen.

But then the vines around the nearby trees suddenly begin to wither right in front of you. Leaves curl inward and blacken within seconds. Flowers collapse into dust. The air itself feels heavier and colder.

Your heart pounds.

Slowly, cautiously, you step around the enormous roots of an ancient tree. And then you see her. She is hidden behind the massive trunk, partially obscured by dying vines. Gaia herself.

The Empress grips the bark with trembling fingers as though struggling to remain standing. The usually vibrant flowers woven through her long hair have wilted completely. Thin glowing cracks spread faintly across her skin like fractures running through continents.

At her feet, flowers bloom… only to immediately decay. A dark golden liquid stains the roots beneath her.

For the first time in your life, the divine ruler of Earth does not look eternal... She looks sick.

She does not notice you. Her eyes are closed. Her face distorts in what seems to be pain. She concentrates intensively. Little by little, life comes back to her. The flowers sprout.

But you cannot unsee what just happened.