In the midst of a barren battlefield, a flower grows.
All around it, the world changed. A landscape razed. A sky ignited with flame, darkened by smoke. A memory of the world that once was, extinguished.
Before its petals, two lovers met their fate.
The war is long over. Those who survived are left to mourn, to reflect, to memorialize. The battlefield has become a site of pilgrimage, a tribute to those so senselessly lost.
And in the midst of it all, a flower still grows.
But it is no longer alone.
The white aster, whose roots lie where the ground absorbed the blood of the unicorn and her wife, is now the center of a small, ever-expanding garden. New flowers of all kinds sprout there, in rain or shine, in frost or heat. An oasis in a bleak land.
A memory of the world that once was, preserved.