The Iron Petal botanical its spirit immortalised in a

its spirit immortalised in a delicate talisman

My song is a tether

haunting and endless

passed between shadowed halls and behind closed doors

but remembrance

The Iron Petal botanical its spirit immortalised in aThey called themselves the Last Gardeners, though their name was spoken only in hushed tones, passed between shadowed halls and behind closed doors. Beneath the grim skies of the old city, they planted not seeds, but truths growing slowly, silently, beneath the weight of the world. Their mark was not one of petals and fragrance, but of steel, twisted into the shape of a flower that could not die. A flower forged in iron, worn on the wrist an unspoken