The Great Witch Ai Yi stood at the edge of the garden, watching the scene before her, a relieved smile on her face.
She could clearly feel that as the Black Rose continued to grow and strengthen, more and more witches were coming here for purification and healing, and everyone's condition was improving.
However, along with her relief, some worries quietly crept into her heart.
She walked to Cheng Qiaoqiao, who was carefully tending to a newly blooming Black Rose, hesitated for a moment, and then asked, "Qiaoqiao, recently... have there been no new inspirations?"
Cheng Qiaoqiao paused, straightened up, thought for a moment, and nodded, "Yes, Aunt Ai Yi, it's been a while since the last inspiration."
Hearing this, Ai Yi frowned slightly, hesitating to speak.
She knew that only Qiaoqiao could ensure the propagation of the Black Roses, but even Qiaoqiao wasn't omnipotent; it seemed to be closely related to some special calling.
Without a new calling, the existing Black Roses, though able to grow thanks to Cheng Qiaoqiao's care and magic, couldn't increase in number.
Many witches now depended on this garden, and the Witches' Union was constantly receiving applications from witches across the land.
Due to the overwhelming number of applications, even the most severely affected witches could only receive limited treatment to prevent further deterioration, and thus had to make way for the next batch.
"The rotation is already scheduled until next year."
If the number of Black Roses didn't increase, or even decreased, the consequences… Ai Yi dared not think too deeply.
"If only there were more Black Roses…"
But the words caught in her throat.
She saw the immense effort Cheng Qiaoqiao had already put in to maintain this garden; was she being too greedy?
After all, having such a purified place was already a blessing.
Just as Ai Yi was struggling with her inner turmoil, Cheng Qiaoqiao, who had been focused on tending the roses, suddenly stopped what she was doing. Her previously relaxed expression turned focused and slightly joyful.
She looked up at the black rose bushes in the garden, a strange light flashing in her eyes.
"Aunt Ai Yi," Cheng Qiaoqiao's voice was tinged with excitement, "the call of the black roses... has come!"
"What?!" Ai Yi jerked her head up, her worries instantly replaced by surprise. "Really? That's wonderful! Quick, prepare the ceremony immediately!"
The ritual for propagating the Black Rose requires the combined power of all the witches.
Upon hearing Cheng Qiaoqiao's words, the witches who had been sitting quietly on the stone stools opened their eyes, their faces showing anticipation.
The healthy witches, somehow having learned of the situation, swarmed over within minutes, arranging themselves in specific positions and formations around Qiaoqiao, preparing for the sacred ceremony.
On Myron Island, outside the lord's manor,
a cold wind blew, and snowflakes occasionally fell. However, after several months, the manor was mostly completed and quite substantial.
At least for the lord's family, life was gradually returning to normal.
Song Qiongyao yawned widely, even managing a few physiological tears at the corners of her eyes.
She was casually flipping through an ancient book, the candlelight casting soft shadows on her face.
A hint of melancholy lingered between her brows.
Not long ago, or more precisely, shortly after moving to Myron Island, she would have a similar dream every time she fell asleep.
In the dream, she was in a palace, and she was a beloved princess, living a carefree life of luxury.
Of course, she still had this dream now, and her identity was still that of a princess.
However, the dream had subtle differences.
Sometimes, the palace would become exceptionally lively, hosting grand balls, with elegant ladies and glittering wine glasses.
Especially recently, the balls in her dreams seemed to happen almost every night, filled with joy and merriment. However
, in the last few days, the dream had returned to its initial tranquility, even somewhat desolate. The balls had disappeared, the palace was empty, and although she had the company of the puppets, she still felt a strange sense of loss.
"Sigh..." Song Qiongyao yawned again, a strong drowsiness washing over her like a tide.
She closed the ancient book, got up, and walked to the curtains. She glanced at the moonlight filtering through the crack but didn't draw them.
Theoretically, the lord's residence covered the entire lord's mansion, so drawing the curtains and even taking a walk in the courtyard wouldn't be impossible.
But that would be asking for trouble.
Song Qiongyao wasn't particularly clever and wouldn't do that.
She turned back to the soft bed, took off her clothes, and lay down.
Perhaps she was truly exhausted lately, for she fell into a deep sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
The moment she drifted off, the familiar palace appeared before her eyes.
Unlike the previous days, the palace was no longer empty.
At the palace entrance, several exquisitely crafted magical puppets dressed as servants were waiting respectfully. Upon seeing Song Qiongyao, they immediately bowed in unison: "Welcome back, Your Highness!"
Song Qiongyao's heart leaped with joy, and her sleepiness vanished instantly.
She strode into the palace and found it brightly lit, countless magical crystal lamps illuminating every corner as if it were daytime.
Melodious music drifted from the inner palace, and a faint, pleasant fragrance filled the air.
She could sense that there were many "guests" in the palace today!
Curious, she passed through the front hall and arrived at the garden connecting to the inner palace.
The scene before her made her slightly startled.
The garden was filled with all sorts of "people."
Those closer to the inner part of the palace were all dressed in magnificent evening gowns or impeccably tailcoats, their manners elegant and their expressions composed—clearly regulars of the palace.
Outside the garden, near the wall, a group of "guests" had gathered.
They were ragged, emaciated, and their eyes
were filled confusion, fear, and unease, a stark contrast to the elegance of the inner area.
This was the first time Song Qiongyao had seen such "guests from outside" in her dream.
They seemed to be blocked by some invisible force, unable to approach the core area of the palace, and could only wander around the garden's perimeter.
What surprised her even more was the variety of these "guests from outside," many of them appearing very strange—some had animal heads, some had translucent bodies, and some were twisted and deformed, completely defying common sense.
Strangely, however, facing these bizarre beings, Song Qiongyao felt no fear whatsoever, but rather a strong sense of curiosity.
She temporarily ignored the "guests" outside the garden, and with a joyful heart, lifted her skirt and hurried towards the inner palace from which music and laughter were coming.
The guests in the inner hall stopped talking and dancing when they saw her enter, turned to her, bowed or curtsied, and respectfully said, "Good evening, Your Highness!"
"Good evening, everyone!"
Song Qiongyao replied with a smile, all the disappointment and sorrow in her heart vanishing. She could feel that the ball in her dream had begun again.