Beneath the Nefaryes timeless, tangled roots.
where dreamscents rot and anger hoots,
Pokenose stirs with a spore-slick grin
not to charm, but to drag you in.
"You reek of want without refrain,
of wounds that swell instead of wane"
said Rose with petals dull and bare.
"Your scent is grief stripped of despair.”
“Desire without end is blight,” she sighed,
"A bloom that feeds...
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