Herbalists' Cache damson

it was the nape of snow she spotted first, alpine white against the dewy backdrop of july-greenery.

qiao stood from her work and regarded him coldly — while all around her hissed the seething of the overworld.

where he saw filaments of gold threading their way skyward, she saw color being bled of it; a black aura saddled him like a cape, instructing he must not be touched.

he served another faceless god, this one one of the thousand pantheon that strung the inimitable and unintelligible collective of the overworld.

she straightened her spine, turning her slim jaw sidelong in silent demand to state his purpose.