In the far corner of a crumbling estate, beyond the reach of curious eyes, lay an orchard no map dared mark. The trees there bore pale, translucent fruit that glowed faintly in the mist, each berry said to contain the memory of a soul long gone. Among the leaves, unseen by most, moved the Scarab — a small, gleaming deity with wings like polished silver.
It was whispered that the Scarab was the orchard’s keeper, carrying whispers between the roots and the stars, deciding which spirits would ripen into fruit and which would return to the wind. Those who stumbled upon the grove spoke of a presence brushing past them, the soft rattle of wings, and a glint of silver vanishing into the leaves — and of waking the next day with the taste of gooseberries lingering, sweet and cold, on their tongue.
For kindred spirits, curious souls, and lovers of handmade things. The Blood & Daisies newsletter is part studio letter, part secret club — come sit with us.
Choosing a selection results in a full page refresh.
