she did not lose her eyes. she offered them. the garden had shown her something hidden beneath beauty, beneath devotion, beneath every prayer she had ever whispered. a truth too radiant for mortal sight. she looked anyway. and when the light entered her, it consumed the only part of her that could still look away. the moths gathered around her empty gaze as if guarding a sacred wound. the flowers did not bloom from her body. they bloomed from what remained of her faith. she was not blinded by darkness. she was devoured by light.