The sky glimmered in a light shade of blue covering the valley in a coating of the sea. Birds scattered across the sky, filling it with black and brown dots. The radiant serenity fills the air as you first enter the break between the 2 blue mountains. The dusty rocks fills the air with a natural feeling, taking a breath feels like it enlightens you. The grassy fields stretches out like a quilt of emeralds as the egg yolk sun, blasts it with a warming ray.

As you walk deeper into the valley, the scent of wildflowers and fresh dew fills your nostrils, and the sound of a gentle stream trickling nearby beckons you closer. You follow the sound of the water until you come to a clearing, where a magnificent flower stands tall and proud in the center.

The flower is like none you have ever seen before, its petals a shimmering gold that seems to radiate light of its own. Rumors of a magical flower that grants immortality have long circulated in the nearby villages, and you can feel the power and energy emanating from this rare specimen.

You are faced with a decision - do you pluck the flower and take its power for yourself, ensuring a life without end and all the possibilities and adventures that come with it? Or do you leave it be, knowing the consequences of such power and the potential harm it could bring to the balance of nature and the world around you?

As you stand there, the wind rustling through the valley and the sun casting long shadows on the ground, you weigh your options carefully. The allure of immortality is strong, but the responsibility and consequences that come with it weigh heavy on your heart.

You kneel before the flower, hands resting on your thighs, not daring to reach out. At least not yet. The golden petals shimmer with an otherworldly hum, as though they’re whispering secrets in a language your mind barely understands.

You exhale slowly. What would I even do with immortality?

That’s when you notice it.

The air around the flower is not still. It shimmers - waves of heat, perhaps, or magic - but more than that, the space breathes. The flower sways with no wind, its golden petals pulsing gently, like a heart. And from its stem, thin tendrils curl into the soil, glowing faintly with light that disappears as quickly as it appears.

Then, a voice. Soft and melodic. Not from outside but within.

“Why have you come?”

You freeze. The clearing is empty but for you and the bloom. Still, the voice remains.

“Many have sought what I offer. Some tried to seize it. Others, like you… pause.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” you murmur, unsure if you're answering aloud or in thought. “I was curious.”

A pause. The petals ripple.

“Curiosity is a kind of hunger. But not all hunger must be fed.”

You sit back on your heels, the weight of that truth sinking in.

“What happens if I take you?” you ask. “Will the valley suffer? Will I?”

The voice answers with neither approval nor condemnation.

“The river will bend away. The bees will forget this place. The soil will grow tired. And you ... you will never sleep again.”

You blink. “Never sleep?”

“Not truly. Not deeply. Not as those who dream and wake. Immortality has its price. Not in pain. In stillness.”

A silence follows, not empty but full. A pause that stretches, filled with birdsong, the distant gurgle of the stream, and the scent of something ancient blooming in the sun.

Then you feel it - a choice offered, not demanded.

You reach forward, slowly, reverently, and place your hand not on the flower, but on the earth beside it. The soil is warm. The flower pulses once, softly, in response.

“I’m not ready,” you whisper. “Maybe I never will be.”

The voice speaks no more.

But something changes. Where your hand pressed into the soil, a small seedling begins to sprout. Pale green, tender, new.

You stand, a little lighter. Behind you, the path remains unchanged, but not the same.

The flower watches you go. Or maybe it just waits.

In the valley, things grow. Some are harvested. Others are simply witnessed.

And not every power must be taken to be understood.