Truus Taal paused, the chill seeping into the embroidered sleeves of her gown. The eggs… they multiplied each hour, spilling across the forest floor like fallen jewels. A bargain, she’d thought. Just one small task for the Spring King's favor: to hold his skull-egg. Now, it pulsed with a faint warmth in her grasp, and the air tasted of honeyed decay. He wanted more than just painted shells; he craved something far darker blooming beneath the twisted roots of this place. The floral crown felt heavy on her head, and Truus knew she was running out of time to decide if the reward was worth the cost.