The Florem Gardens stretched on endlessly, a chaotic maze of vibrant blossoms, twisting vines, and towering trees dripping with dew. It was a place of unearthly beauty... Yet, to Mephilia, it was a theater of rot waiting to unfold. In her hand, she lazily twirled her prize—the plucked remains of many a Florie’s wings, hanging from a metal loop like a macabre ring of keys. She smiled faintly, her lips curving in a way that was neither warm nor cold, but somewhere disturbingly in between.

"Hmm… such a fragile place," she murmured, her voice soft, almost a whisper, but with an edge sharp enough to cut. Her pale green hair swayed with her every step, catching the occasional ray of sunlight that filtered through the canopy above. "All this beauty... so fleeting, so stained. The fairies dance and sing, thinking themselves eternal, but they crumble so easily… like petals caught in a storm... Hee hee ha ha haaa..."

Mephilia paused, tilting her head as if listening for something distant. She stepped closer to a cluster of delicate flowers, her gloved fingers hovering just above their trembling petals. The scent stirred up a memory, that of Suleiman's smile, and for a moment, her expression became unreadable, her eyes softening.

"...What a sick little world," she said suddenly, her tone sharper now, dismissive. She drew her hand back as though the flowers had burned her. Her steps grew heavier, her aimless wandering giving way to purpose. "The Bloodrose Legion demands tribute… and these tiny pests will sing their last song today. Their beauty will feed the roots of something greater. Something real... With enough poisoned hairpins made, the women of Florem will soon lose faith in the old ways. Their corruption will taint their faith, and soon... It'll be the end of the Water Crystal, hee hee~..."

She smiled again, but this time, it was a cruel, crooked grin. Little did she know that someone else was nearby.