Mutated plants Stories

The Grove’s AssignmentThe glade was quieter than it had any right to be. Elenna stepped beyond the last bramble line and paused, breath held. The world on the other side was still — not with fear, but with that particular hush found only in sacred places. The kind of silence that settles after a song. No wind stirred the fern-fronds. No birds called. Just the slow creak of old trees and the steady rhythm of her breath. Sh...