A low, mournful whinny cut the air. Kaelen saw her—the Night-Mare, a beast of obsidian muscle and burning cinders, now wearing a crocheted blanket and a halter woven from bluegrass. She was standing in a field of buttercups, chewing peacefully.
The Grass-King smiled, and its teeth were white clover blossoms. "Why ride, when you could graze ? We have no storms here. No fire. Only the slow, beautiful digestion of all your ambitions." Dark Side Fantasy -Ep. 2- -Pasture Soft-
Lyra grabbed his arm. Her metal eye ticked violently. "Don't look at the horizon." A low, mournful whinny cut the air
The hills weren't hills. They were the buried bodies of previous champions—warriors, mages, tyrants—slowly decomposing into wildflowers. Their armor had rusted into fertilizer. Their swords had become fence posts. And from their open, smiling mouths grew thick, sweet clover. The Grass-King smiled, and its teeth were white
"No," Kaelen whispered. "They broke her."