The blades of grass peeled open as they brushed against my skin, fading lifelessly as they wilted, like they had simply decided to die.

I looked back at the desolate path of death and how the curling death of the leaves mirrored how I felt inside. I knew I had taken plenty from this earth and it was time to give back.

But now, the soil sighed beneath my feet, a slow exhale of warmth and warning slowly radiated into the soles of my bare and muddy feet.

From the edge of the hollow, a soothing yet concerned voice called out, voice tight.

“Don’t go any farther.”

I froze.

She stood between two blackened birch trunks, her eyes wide, the wind tugging at her scarf like it was trying to unsettle her.

“I have to,” I said. “The seeds were planted long before we were born.” The words flew out of my mouth but, surely, she understood this?

“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t interfere.” Her voice was hoarse now. **_“Once the flowers bloom, we’ll be doomed.”_**

I glanced at the Earth. Tiny green buds had begun to push through the cracks and make their way up towards the red sky.

There was no sound, but a trembling hum in the air, like bees, but deeper. Like something beneath us was stirring.

“You said they’d never bloom in this cycle,” I whispered.

“I was wrong,” she said, the worry lines weighing heavily on her brow.

“I’m sorry.”

A small silence before the unthinkable. The air began to thicken as tiny spores floated up from the buds, which now opened into crimson petals holding what looked like a human skull in the centre. A clean bone white which slowly stained to black the more the petals bloomed.

Death.

The rotting smell of corpses began to musk, and all I could do was shake in fear.

I had to warn her. We had to get out of here. But there was no hope.

All hope is gone.