Seeds in the Wasteland

Three years after Vexara's sacrifice, the first flowers bloomed in the wasteland.

They were not flowers as any botanist would recognize—crystalline petals that sang in harmonies that existed between sound and silence, roots that extended not into soil but into the quantum foam itself. Each blossom was a small miracle of impossible biology, life emerging from the intersection of shattered realities.

Alexia knelt beside one such garden, her transformed fingers gentle as she examined the new growth. The plants responded to her touch by shifting through spectrums of color that had no names, their melodies changing to match her heartbeat. Around her, the grey wasteland was slowly giving way to something unprecedented—a landscape where the ruins of dead dimensions served as fertilizer for entirely new forms of existence.