The garden, still strewn with uncollected red spider lilies, was swiftly engulfed by rampant rose brambles. Their thorny emerald stems throbbed with tenacious vitality, their feathery leaves gleaming as if lacquered. Lush tendrils cascaded like liquid silk, spilling over every inch of soil—through flowerbeds, along colonnades, twining around marble statues like possessive lovers. The air hummed with the restless energy of new growth, as if the earth itself trembled beneath this sudden resurgence.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in molten hues of gold and crimson, the interplay of ivory and verdure transformed the imperial vampire palace into an ethereal dreamscape. The dying light caught on the dew-kissed leaves, turning them into scattered emeralds.
