Chapter 63: Echoes of Bloom
The Garden pulsed quietly now, a low and ancient hum weaving through the massive branches and petal-covered pathways. Though the Remnant had retreated, the feeling of impending change hadn't left. If anything, it had grown stronger. Every breeze felt heavy with memories.
Riku stood at the edge of the Heart's dome, staring at the faintly glowing floor beneath his feet. Airi stood beside him, her hands folded behind her back, silent for once. The others were scattered around the Heart—some tending to wounds, some in quiet conversation, others lost in thought.
Riku's fingers brushed the pendant around his neck. The Seeds were awakening. Five now—each resonating with the next. But something about it felt incomplete. And dangerous.
"I keep hearing my brother," he said suddenly, breaking the silence. "Not in dreams. Not in visions. But... like he's close. Like he's here."
Airi didn't answer immediately. Her gaze drifted toward the dark tunnel where the Remnant had vanished. "Do you believe he left this world without a trace?" she asked. "Or that part of him was left behind?"
Riku looked down. "He left something in me. A shadow. A memory. But I'm starting to wonder if it was more."
---
Elsewhere, in the upper reaches of the Garden, Kaoru sat on a curved branch that overlooked the maze of vines and crystalline petals. Rei joined him, holding two steaming cups of tea he'd scavenged from Veyla's supplies.
"Still pretending you don't worry about them?" Rei asked.
Kaoru took the cup without looking at him. "Worrying never saved anyone."
"No, but talking sometimes does."
Kaoru's grip tightened slightly around the cup. His mind replayed the moment his sister vanished into the storm years ago—the pain, the helplessness. Her smile. The words he never got to say.
"She knew what she was doing," he murmured. "And now Kohana... she's stepping into the same kind of storm."
Rei's voice was gentle. "She's not alone."
Kaoru finally turned to him. "Neither was my sister. But she still disappeared."
---
Kohana sat near one of the stone pillars, the Wind Seed glowing faintly in her palm. She exhaled slowly, her hair fluttering with the breeze she summoned unconsciously.
She closed her eyes—and saw again the tall, cold man who had haunted her past. Her father.
"You're too soft, Kohana. Too weak."
Her younger self trembled as she tried to defend her drawings, her singing, her gentle soul. But her father never saw strength in kindness.
"If you can't harden yourself, the world will do it for you."
Now, wind wrapped around her like a soft shield. She wasn't the girl who bent anymore. She had shaped that wind into her own resolve.
Sera approached, sitting beside her in silence. The silver-haired girl gave her a tired smile.
"We're all running from something," Sera whispered.
Kohana opened her eyes. "I'm not running anymore."
Sera's lips curved. "Good. Because the Garden's about to give us something new to face."
---
That night, under a sky flickering with violet stars, Veyla summoned them all to the center.
The dome had changed. Petals rotated slowly in the air above, forming shifting patterns that pulsed with energy. In the center stood a monolith—carved from the same crystal that made up the Garden's roots. Glowing symbols danced across it.
Veyla placed a hand on it.
"The next Seed doesn't lie in this Garden," she announced. "It lies in the Bloomspire. The original tower."
Gasps spread through the group.
"That place was destroyed," Haru said. "It collapsed during the Cataclysm."
"No," Veyla said. "It fell. But it was never destroyed. What remains is buried beneath the First Crater—where the Bloom first touched this world. The Spire still lives beneath the ashes."
Rei narrowed his eyes. "And what else lives there?"
Veyla didn't answer. She let silence speak for her.
Riku stepped forward. "Then that's our next path."
She met his gaze. "Only if you're ready. The Bloomspire holds more than Seeds. It holds truths. Ones that may break you."
Riku didn't flinch. "Break us or not—we need to face them."
Veyla nodded. She pressed her hand to the monolith. A gate of petals and light spiraled open behind it, glowing faintly.
One by one, the group gathered their things, steadied their hearts, and stepped through.
---
The world on the other side was ash.
Gray skies loomed over a broken land, where charred trees twisted into blackened claws and rivers of glass ran through cracked soil. The wind carried the scent of scorched memories.
The First Crater yawned before them—a canyon filled with glowing roots, pulsating softly like veins. In the center, barely visible, was the tip of a shattered tower.
Riku stepped forward. His heart pounded. The pendant around his neck began to burn softly. His brother's voice echoed again—not in words, but a feeling.
Come find me.
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