The morning mist rolled in soft and light, blanketing Anuli in a hush of peace. But within the hush, movement stirred—gentle, purposeful, like the breath of something ancient awakening.
The seeds had begun to travel.
Carried not only by the wind but by the hearts of those who had found healing in the garden, tiny glowing pods were now being planted in nearby villages. Each one brought with it a quiet magic—not loud or showy, but real enough to shift the air around it.
One seed grew in the heart of a market square and gave a tired vendor a sudden idea to teach children how to make soap—something she'd done all her life, but never thought to share.
Another grew near a lonely teacher's doorstep and bloomed into a bench where strangers began to sit and talk. Before long, it became a gathering point for ideas and friendships.
And another still, planted on a mountaintop, became a small grove of trees that hummed when the wind passed through—music for a village that had long forgotten how to celebrate.
Back in Anuli, Kaira stood in the sanctuary doorway, watching a small group of children preparing dream journals for new visitors.
"These kids," Emeka whispered beside her, "they don't just dream anymore. They build. They teach. They lead."
Kaira smiled. "Because someone believed in their dreams."
She walked to the garden's center and knelt beside the first seed she ever planted. The tree was tall now, its canopy sheltering the space where countless stories had begun.
From the branches, petals fell—not like leaves dying, but like messages being sent.
Carried by the breeze, they drifted out beyond Anuli's borders.
And wherever they landed, hope took root.