-full Version- -tyviania- — Lily Service

Elara screamed his name. He did not turn back. The carriage door closed like a mouth. The next morning, Elara did the only thing her fear would allow: she followed. She stowed away beneath the carriage, clinging to the axle as it climbed the spiraling roads to the upper tier. The air grew sweeter, the shadows thinner. At last, the carriage passed through gates of wrought silver and into the grounds of the Vane Conservatory , a sprawling estate of white marble and gardens where lilies grew in unnatural, perpetual bloom.

She threw it into the mercury pool.

What she saw there stole her breath.

The plague known as the Grey Rot had come seven years ago, leaving behind a harvest of orphans. They called them the "Ashpetals"—children with hollow cheeks and ancient eyes, named for the way they scattered at the first sign of city guards. Lily Service -Full Version- -Tyviania-

But Elara needed proof the upper-tier courts would believe. And she needed help.

"You've destroyed years of work," she said softly. "Do you know what they'll do to me? The Harvesters have long memories."

Not toward the children. Toward the mercury pool. Elara screamed his name

She was beautiful, ageless, with hair the color of spun copper and eyes like chips of jade. She wore a gown of black silk embroidered with silver lilies, and she spoke in a voice like honey over broken glass.

"...the Lily Service," said the first, kicking a loose stone. "They say the Lady of the upper tier takes them in. Clothes. Food. A bed."

Elara clamped a hand over her mouth. The bidding began. A Harvester in a ruby mask bought a boy of seven for three thousand gold crowns. A woman with serpentine jewelry purchased twin girls. Each child was led to a silver chair beside the mercury pool. A Sister placed a lily-shaped helmet over their head. There was no scream, no blood. Just a soft, final sigh as their essence drained into a waiting crystal vial. The child left behind was alive but hollow—a smiling, empty thing destined for the lower tiers as a "rehabilitated ward." Elara fled the grate. She ran until she found a forgotten greenhouse, choked with weeds and broken pots. There, she vomited. Then she wept. Then, slowly, rage replaced grief. The next morning, Elara did the only thing

She slipped inside as the Sisters unloaded their cargo—a dozen children, all glassy-eyed and docile. Elara crept through service corridors, her bare feet silent on cold stone, until she found a grate overlooking a vast hall.

And in the upper city, every light-panel flickered—and displayed the Bloom Registry in crisp, undeniable detail. Lady Vane stood alone amid the chaos, her serene mask finally cracking. She looked at Elara—this small, bleeding, furious child—and for a moment, something like respect flickered across her face.

But Lady Lyselle Vane was no fool.

She found it in an unlikely place: , a disgraced Inquisitor of the Sunken Temple. He had been assigned to investigate the Lily Service years ago, only to be framed for corruption and exiled to the lower tiers. He lived in a cellar, drinking away his memories, until a white-haired girl dropped a stolen crystal vial of Lily Cordial onto his table.

That night, Elara watched from a rooftop as a carriage of black lacquer, emblazoned with a silver lily, rolled through the district. Two Sisters in gray habits stepped out, their faces hidden behind porcelain masks painted with serene, closed eyes. They moved with silent purpose, handing out warm bread and small vials of golden liquid—"Tears of Veriditas," they called it. A cure for the creeping cough that plagued the under-tier.