"For every flower, there will always come a time to wither."

• "And rot into oblivion…"

You had walked around a valley of withered white lilies, never ending. You found this sight strange and you chose to explore a little further in, but due to you being distracted by the encounter of the withered white lilies, you tripped on a thorny vine, as you tripped, a few thorns were impaled into your ankle. You fell face flat into the floor as you sat up, wincing silently as you felt the stinging pain in your ankle.

You were startled as you heard a voice speak.

“…A cookie.. Here..?”