The trail beneath you is infested with blossoms while a large field of flowers stands before you. A delicate family, reaching for the sky. Soft, pink roses growing from all directions, eventually swallowing the path. You are tempted to brush your hand atop the petals, just to realize the harsh surface of your gauntlet will pluck them from the stem. You step carefully, not to damage any blossoms beneath you with your heavy, metal sabaton.

You step forward,

forward,