In the morning, I woke up unexpectedly light.

  It was quiet around me.

  Soft light filtered through the leaves. Everything was beautiful and cozy. Plants wrapped around the walls, hung from the ceiling, stood in enormous ceramic bowls.

  I felt wonderful. So wonderful that for a second it felt strange — after everything.

  Something was softly snoring beside me.

  I turned my head.

  Pi-Pu.

  He lay curled up almost at my shoulder. I hadn't even noticed when he came in. His hat was different — neat, dense, without a single hole. The threads looked slightly brighter, softer.

  I gently touched it.

  "A new one, huh? Beautiful. When did Wanda even manage to knit it?" I whispered.

  Pi-Pu opened one yellow eye and purred in his own peculiar way.

  Suddenly I remembered my mobile phone.

  It was lying on the bedside table.

  I turned it on.

  The screen flickered — and immediately went black.

  Dead battery.

  Oh well.

  Here, it felt foreign. Almost unnecessary.

  I got up and freshened up. In the bathroom everything was there — neatly folded towels, a comb, and my Fliirus pollen cream stood on the shelf. I caught myself smiling.

  Pi-Pu stretched lazily and stayed asleep.

  I wanted to find Lia and Jo-Jo.

  I opened the door — and almost ran into Alexander.

  He was already standing there.

  Smiling.

  "Sleepyhead," he said softly. "You overslept everything."

  "What time is it?" I asked, confused.

  "Enough," he smirked. "Lia and Jo-Jo already had breakfast. Ida took them on a tour of the expanded house."

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  "A tour?" I blinked.

  "Yes," he shrugged. "Even though they'll forget it all anyway. But they really wanted to see."

  He stepped closer.

  And suddenly — unexpectedly gentle and swift — he took my hand.

  His fingers were warm.

  Firm.

  He smiled slyly.

  "Run."

  "Where?" I barely managed to ask.

  "You'll see."

  And he pulled me with him.

  We ran.

  At first along neat paths, then through thickets — but they didn't snag our clothes or scratch our skin. The vines parted softly before us, leaves lifting like curtains. As if they knew we were coming.

  The grove grew denser. The light softer. The air more humid.

  And suddenly the greenery opened.

  Before us was a lagoon.

  A small lake, blue — no, not blue. Turquoise. The water glowed from within like liquid glass.

  I stopped.

  "Alexander..." I breathed.

  He turned to me, eyes shining.

  "On three — we jump!"

  "No!" I laughed, stepping back. "I'm not ready! I'm dressed!"

  "Yes, yes!" he was already pulling me toward the water. "Don't be afraid! It's warm!"

  I tried to pull away, laughing, but he caught me by the waist.

  "Alexander!"

  "One... two... three!"

  And we jumped.

  The water wasn't just warm — it was enveloping, soft. No cold. No shock. Just pleasant heat.

  We surfaced laughing.

  "You're crazy!" I said, brushing wet hair from my face.

  "But you're smiling," he replied.

  We swam in our clothes. The fabric didn't drag us down. Everything felt light, like a dream.

  At the far end of the lagoon, a dark arch was visible.

  "There?" I asked.

  He nodded.

  We swam into a small cave-tunnel. The walls were studded with stones — red, green, blue, violet.

  We emerged on the other side.

  And I froze.

  Before us was a small beach.

  The sand was pale, almost white. Dense greenery formed a natural circle around it. Above — soft diffused light.

  And on the sand, breakfast was already set.

  Flawless.

  A light wooden table decorated with fresh flowers. Plates of fruit sliced perfectly evenly. Fresh bread, soft rolls, honey in a transparent bowl, berries I had never seen before, and so many other delicacies...

  Everything adorned with flower petals.

  I turned to him.

  He stood beside me, wet-haired and entirely pleased.

  "Wow..." I exhaled. "How beautiful. And it looks so delicious..."

  Alexander smiled.

  "Wait," he said. "Come here."

  He led me to a huge flower growing slightly apart from the table. It resembled a giant lily — creamy-white petals with golden veins, and at its center a softly glowing heart.

  "Stand under it," he said.

  "And what will happen?" I asked suspiciously.

  "Trust me."

  I stepped beneath it.

  He gently pulled the flower downward, and the petals closed over me like a dome. Inside it was warm. Like early spring sunlight.

  I felt the fabric on me begin to dry. The water seemed to evaporate into the flower.

  A few seconds later, the petals opened.

  I stepped out completely dry.

  "Unbelievable..." I whispered, looking at my sleeves.

  "Martinus," he said with mild pride. "Dries, warms, and doesn't damage fabric."

  "Very convenient," I smiled.

  He stood under the flower himself. The petals closed again, soft light enveloping him. A moment later he stepped out — dry, only his hair slightly tousled.

  We sat at the table.

  The fruit was sweet and juicy, as if freshly picked. The rolls were warm with a delicate crisp crust. The honey smelled of flowers and something else — almost caramel. Everything tasted exquisite.

  We laughed. Talked about small things.

  And the way he looked at me.

  Long. Without looking away.

  It made me slightly embarrassed. And warm at the same time.

  "What?" I finally asked, smiling.

  He shook his head slightly.

  "Nothing."

  But his eyes said otherwise.

  There was relief in them. Joy. And something else — careful, not yet spoken aloud.

  I suddenly realized I didn't want the moment to end. Not the lagoon. Not the breakfast. Not his gaze.

  Later, the burial of Lactimol Bezos and the ceremony of his transition to the Shining World were scheduled.

  We met Jo-Jo and Lia. Bridget sat in Jo-Jo's arms.

  We gathered around a solitary Fliirus bush.

  It was very, very old. The branches were dry and intertwined — vine or bush, impossible to tell its age. It bore only one flower. One. But so dense and radiant it seemed to hold all the plant's power within it.

  Around stood seruses, pteroseruses, and other floating seruses without wings — they remained higher in the air, as if suspended in the dense blue space, not descending to the ground. Their silhouettes were lighter, more translucent.

  No one cried.

  Everyone spoke calmly, even joyfully. Without haste. As if this were not an ending, but the completion of a long path.

  The pteroseruses carried out the body of the Lactimol.

  It wasn't visible. Completely covered in flowers — white, blue, violet.

  Gunya stepped forward.

  Today she looked different — older, more majestic. Wings spread, feathers shimmering softly. The red streak in her hair vivid against the greenery.

  She raised her hand.

  The earth beneath the Fliirus bush opened on its own. No shovel. No effort. The soil parted carefully, like a door.

  The pteroseruses slowly lowered the body inside.

  Gunya moved her hand again — and the earth closed. Smoothly. Firmly. As if it had never opened.

  She spoke ancient words.

  I did not understand the language, but the sound was soft and vibrating, like an echo inside the chest. It felt as though the very roots of the Fliirus were answering her.

  The final word rang especially clear.

  And at that exact moment, the single flower on the old bush burst into radiant light.

  Everyone around began clapping joyfully. Whistling. Someone shouted. The floating seruses rose higher, circling. The pteroseruses spread their wings.