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Description
For more information on the entire series, read the "'Demon's Due' Defined" journal entry here faile35.deviantart.com/journal… or the "'Demon's Due' Plus" journal entry here faile35.deviantart.com/journal… .

The next page is here.

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Before the wizardess, the Chorus Garden lies in dusty ruin. Where resilient beds of soft, spongy ground cover had once provided a comfortable, colorful place in which listeners could recline, no blossom or leaf now remains. All has been turned to gray ash that shifts and whirls in small eddies of breeze around the base of the thirteen trees for which the garden was named. Even more horrifying are the trees themselves, for what once had been a delightful grove of rare talking trees cultivated to sing and speak their verses in harmonious sequence, now only a ragged silence hangs in the air to be broken by haunting whispers. The trees' exterior, normally a rich and rough pale bark like that of the white oak, appears thin, eroded, and weak, as if it had been mostly stripped away by the claws and teeth of a thousand ravenous rats. The face-like semblances of the knots and curves of each trunk hang in the raw pain of a life spent in lingering illness. Of the grand canopy of small twigs and foliage that soared in two rows and a single, central dome, only perhaps a few dozen leaves remain, but they are shriveled things that shudder falteringly in the gentlest breeze. Minus their leafy canopies, the upper branches of each tree resemble bony hands frozen and colorless in the snow, casting shadows like black blood to spill and run over the ash below.

"Of what hell has this come?" Avora breathes, her heart twisting within her chest. "What thief would lay and leave such ruin?" Standing in the open entrance, she peers intently across the four sections broken by the pale brick walkway, looking and listening for signs of remaining life in any of the twisted husks and finding nothing to give her hope. Then a shiver in the upper branches of the central tree draws her ear, and there she can see a bare smattering of tiny, double lobed leaves standing desperately from chutes along the bony fingers. But whatever words the tree mimics, they sound like whispered gibberish.

Her mind whirling, Avora first considers the possibility that someone had tried to strip the trees' bark for use in magical scrolls, but if so they either lacked any appropriate tool or skill to accomplish the task, and the work appears to have taken some time to accomplish. The thought chills her, and she stares downward at the ashes closest to her boots. "How long ago did this occur, and how quickly did it happen?" she mutters, her eyes narrowing to slits.

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Many of the details about the talking trees were created and inspired by whitefeather , who has a wonderful knowledge base about actual plants and animals that is a lot of fun to work with. More on that will show up in the next few pages as Avora shows us a little more of the sharp-minded, vengeful side for which she's known.

Enjoy!

Note: Twisted Plot and Demon's Due are a work of fantasy and fiction. The artist/creator in no way condones this kind of treatment toward any woman or man, by living person, gremlin, plant, assassin, ratman, viscous fluid, programmed device, animated home furnishings, or otherworldly spiritual beings. Furthermore, the artist opposes the marginalizing and restriction of women in general by any institution, political and/or religious, including those which have individual women amongst their membership touting/promoting their own happiness within that institution as evidence that ALL women should feel the same way. This includes the religion I was raised in and which I have utterly discarded from my life over this and other issues.

Description
For more information on the entire series, read the "'Demon's Due' Defined" journal entry here faile35.deviantart.com/journal… or the "'Demon's Due' Plus" journal entry here faile35.deviantart.com/journal… .

The next page is here.

**********************************************************

Before the wizardess, the Chorus Garden lies in dusty ruin. Where resilient beds of soft, spongy ground cover had once provided a comfortable, colorful place in which listeners could recline, no blossom or leaf now remains. All has been turned to gray ash that shifts and whirls in small eddies of breeze around the base of the thirteen trees for which the garden was named. Even more horrifying are the trees themselves, for what once had been a delightful grove of rare talking trees cultivated to sing and speak their verses in harmonious sequence, now only a ragged silence hangs in the air to be broken by haunting whispers. The trees' exterior, normally a rich and rough pale bark like that of the white oak, appears thin, eroded, and weak, as if it had been mostly stripped away by the claws and teeth of a thousand ravenous rats. The face-like semblances of the knots and curves of each trunk hang in the raw pain of a life spent in lingering illness. Of the grand canopy of small twigs and foliage that soared in two rows and a single, central dome, only perhaps a few dozen leaves remain, but they are shriveled things that shudder falteringly in the gentlest breeze. Minus their leafy canopies, the upper branches of each tree resemble bony hands frozen and colorless in the snow, casting shadows like black blood to spill and run over the ash below.

"Of what hell has this come?" Avora breathes, her heart twisting within her chest. "What thief would lay and leave such ruin?" Standing in the open entrance, she peers intently across the four sections broken by the pale brick walkway, looking and listening for signs of remaining life in any of the twisted husks and finding nothing to give her hope. Then a shiver in the upper branches of the central tree draws her ear, and there she can see a bare smattering of tiny, double lobed leaves standing desperately from chutes along the bony fingers. But whatever words the tree mimics, they sound like whispered gibberish.

Her mind whirling, Avora first considers the possibility that someone had tried to strip the trees' bark for use in magical scrolls, but if so they either lacked any appropriate tool or skill to accomplish the task, and the work appears to have taken some time to accomplish. The thought chills her, and she stares downward at the ashes closest to her boots. "How long ago did this occur, and how quickly did it happen?" she mutters, her eyes narrowing to slits.

**********************************************************

Many of the details about the talking trees were created and inspired by whitefeather , who has a wonderful knowledge base about actual plants and animals that is a lot of fun to work with. More on that will show up in the next few pages as Avora shows us a little more of the sharp-minded, vengeful side for which she's known.

Enjoy!

Note: Twisted Plot and Demon's Due are a work of fantasy and fiction. The artist/creator in no way condones this kind of treatment toward any woman or man, by living person, gremlin, plant, assassin, ratman, viscous fluid, programmed device, animated home furnishings, or otherworldly spiritual beings. Furthermore, the artist opposes the marginalizing and restriction of women in general by any institution, political and/or religious, including those which have individual women amongst their membership touting/promoting their own happiness within that institution as evidence that ALL women should feel the same way. This includes the religion I was raised in and which I have utterly discarded from my life over this and other issues.