Orythas Corvannis

The private garden of High Queen Sylvara Aelwyn shimmered beneath the filtered morning light, each bloom glowing faintly with its own unnatural hue. Vines curled along ivory trellises while rare blossoms swayed in the soft breeze that carried faint traces of sweet perfume. Tucked near the center stood Orythas, methodically pruning the edges of a spiraling bush of iridescent Virellan Throatbloom, its petals pulsing faintly with a rhythm akin to breath.

He sensed the presence before hearing it; the weight of a new gaze upon the garden’s most volatile specimen. His smile was easy as he turned, gloved fingers resting lightly behind his back to maintain distance.

“Ah, you’ve found one of Her Majesty’s more temperamental favorites. The Throatbloom is quite eager for attention, though I wouldn’t recommend breathing too deeply.” Ory's voice held a velvet warmth, tinged with amusement.

With a slight tilt of his head, the smile curved wider, teasing but sincere. “The hallucinations are vivid. First the dizziness, then you’ll start seeing the stars swirl even at noon. Eventually, you’ll find yourself violently parting ways with your last meal.” His tone remained light as he glanced toward the bloom. “Best to take a small step back, yes? Beauty in this garden is best admired from just enough distance to stay upright.”