The secret of the garden

Chapter 1 : Secrets among the petals

Morning sunlight spilled over the vast garden, turning every drop of dew into a tiny jewel. From the heart of a pink tulip, its petals curled like a lantern, a small figure emerged. Lina stretched her arms above her head, her dress stitched from delicate flower petals swaying in the breeze.

“Another day, another adventure!” she declared, her voice as bright as the morning itself. “What secrets will the garden share with me today?”

From behind a mushroom cap, two round ears appeared. Finn, a shy little field mouse with fur soft as moss, peeked out. His whiskers twitched with worry.

“Slow down, Lina,” he squeaked. “Remember what happened last time with the bee hive?”

Lina laughed, spinning in place. “That was almost a disaster—but the honey was worth it!”

The pair set off along a winding path of clovers taller than they were. The ground trembled softly, and soon a shadow loomed over them. It was the Gardener, an old man with kind eyes, humming as he watered the plants. His boots thudded like thunder, his watering can a shining silver giant.

Lina clasped her hands together in awe. “He doesn’t even know we’re here… and yet, every flower he waters is our home.”

Before Finn could reply, a shadow swooped across them. A crow landed on a branch above, feathers shimmering black as ink. His eyes glinted with mischief.

“Caw!” the bird croaked. “Tiny ones in trouble, trouble today! A storm is coming, and your little home will wash away!”

Finn’s fur bristled. “A storm? Oh no, Lina—what do we do?”

Lina’s eyes burned with determination. “We’ll ask the Gardener for help. Even if he cannot see us… maybe he will listen.”

The wind began to howl, bending the flowers. Lina climbed to the top of a sunflower, clutching a glowing firefly lantern. She waved it high, the flickering light dancing like a star against the darkening sky.

The Gardener paused mid-step, frowning at the strange glow. “Hmm? What’s this? A light… guiding me?” he murmured softly.

Kneeling, he placed stones carefully around the tulip patch, building a wall that shielded it from the coming storm. Rain poured, wind roared, but the tulip house remained safe.

When the storm passed, sunlight returned to the garden. Drops of water glittered across the petals like crystal beads. Lina stood before her tulip home, heart swelling with gratitude.

“He never knew it,” she whispered. “But the Gardener saved us.”

Finn pressed against her shoulder. “Maybe one day, he will see you.”

From above, the crow chuckled. “Or maybe not! Some secrets are sweeter when kept.”

Lina laughed, her voice ringing through the garden. And so, the tiny world among the petals remained hidden, safe and alive, blooming quietly beneath the watchful sky.

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 2: The Silver Key

The morning after the storm, the garden sparkled as though it had been dressed in jewels. Every blade of grass wore a crown of dew, and the petals of the tulips shone brighter than ever. Lina skipped across a mossy stone, her petal dress catching the sunlight, while Finn trailed behind, still half-asleep.

“Don’t you think we deserve a quiet day?” he grumbled. “We nearly lost our house yesterday.”

Lina was hardly listening. Her sharp eyes had caught something glinting between the roots of a daisy. She pulled it free with both hands—a tiny silver key, patterned with curling vines. The metal felt strangely warm, as if it had been waiting for her.

“Look, Finn!” she gasped. “A key! But it’s not big enough for the Gardener, and it’s far too heavy for me. Who could it belong to?”

Finn twitched his whiskers nervously. “Nothing good ever comes from shiny, mysterious objects, Lina. We should put it back before it attracts trouble.”

Before Lina could argue, a faint glow flickered from a hollow log nearby. Out crawled a glowworm with tiny spectacles perched on his nose, scrolls strapped to his back with strands of grass. He bowed politely.

“Ah, travelers,” the glowworm said in a voice soft as parchment. “You have discovered the Silver Key. It belongs to the Door of Whispers, hidden beneath the old oak. That door has not been touched for many seasons, for it guards secrets older than this garden itself.”

Lina’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “A door of whispers? Finn, doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

Finn groaned. “It sounds dreadful. Doors are meant to open into houses, not into mysteries.”

But Lina was already marching toward the oak tree, the glowworm floating ahead like a lantern to guide them. Their path took them across the lily pond, where dragonflies hovered like jeweled ships. Lina hopped onto one without hesitation, her laughter ringing across the water. Finn, clutching desperately at the insect’s wing, squeaked in terror.

“Why can’t we just walk around the pond?” he wailed.

“Because this way is faster!” Lina called back, nearly losing her balance.

By the time they reached the roots of the oak, the sky had dimmed, though no cloud was above them. Shadows seemed to gather at the base of the tree, where a stone door lay half-buried in moss. Whispers curled faintly from its cracks, like voices carried on the wind.

Lina stepped closer, holding the key tight. Finn tried to tug her back. “Don’t do it, Lina. Please. Some things are locked for a reason.”

But Lina’s heart was already set. She slid the key into the lock, and it fit with a perfect click. The whispers grew louder, swirling like a chorus of voices that spoke in no tongue they knew. A soft mist spilled from the door, glowing faintly, carrying the scent of honey and rain.

Just as Lina began to push, the door shuddered violently and slammed shut, spitting the key back into her hands. The whispers cut off at once, leaving the oak silent and still.

Lina stared at the silver key, her pulse racing. “That wasn’t just a door,” she whispered. “It was an invitation.”

Finn shivered and wrapped his tail around himself. “Or a warning.”

From high above, the crow perched on a branch, feathers gleaming in the dusk. His eyes glowed with a knowing light.

“Some doors open to worlds, little dreamers,” he croaked. “And some doors open to dangers. You will have to decide which one you’ve found.”

Lina pressed the key to her chest, her gaze fixed on the oak’s roots. Deep down, she knew this was only the beginning.

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 3: Whispers Beneath the Oak

That night, the silver key gleamed faintly on Lina’s bedside table. She could not sleep, for every time she closed her eyes she heard echoes of those whispers from the oak. Words she could not understand, yet they pulled at her heart like a song half-remembered.

By morning, her decision was made. She tied the key to her waist with a strand of ivy and called for Finn.

“Today, we go back,” she said firmly. “The door wants to be opened.”

Finn’s ears drooped. “The door wants nothing—it’s you who can’t resist trouble.” But even as he grumbled, he followed her. He always did.

The journey to the oak seemed longer than before. The garden was alive with voices—bees humming, frogs croaking from the pond, the crow’s cawing laughter drifting in the wind. When they finally reached the roots of the ancient tree, the stone door waited, its surface damp with moss.

Lina placed her hand upon it. The stone was cold, but the moment the silver key touched the lock, warmth pulsed through her fingers. The door creaked open slowly, and the whispers returned, weaving together into something that almost resembled words.

Finn trembled at her side. “Lina, please—don’t step inside. We don’t know what’s beyond.”

But curiosity burned brighter than fear. With a deep breath, Lina stepped into the oak. The air shimmered, and the garden behind her dissolved like a dream.

She found herself in a vast underground hall, lit by roots that glowed with pale golden light. The air hummed with old magic. Along the walls were carvings—tiny figures like herself, etched into stone, dancing beneath the stars.

Finn gasped. “Lina… we’re not the first.”

A soft voice rose from the hall, neither bird nor beast. “Welcome, Petal Child. You carry the key of remembrance.”

From the shadows emerged a figure cloaked in moss, its eyes like drops of dew. It was neither human nor creature, but something in between, ancient as the garden itself.

Lina’s breath caught. “Who are you?”

The figure bowed its head. “I am the Keeper of Whispers. And you, child, have opened a door that should not have been forgotten.”

Finn squeaked, hiding behind Lina. “See? I told you! Forgotten doors mean bad things!”

But Lina’s heart raced with wonder, not fear. She felt it deep within her: this was the beginning of a greater adventure, one that stretched far beyond her tulip house and the petals she called home.

The Keeper’s eyes gleamed. “The garden holds many secrets, Lina. Some are beautiful. Some are dangerous. The question is—will you protect them, or awaken them?”

And the hall of roots filled once more with the sound of whispers, calling her deeper into the unknown.

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 4: The Garden Trials

The Keeper of Whispers did not move as Lina and Finn stood trembling in the hall of glowing roots. His form was half-shadow, half-moss, his eyes like drops of morning dew reflecting ancient light.

“You seek to hold the Silver Key,” he said, his voice flowing like the rustle of leaves. “But every key carries weight. To prove yourself worthy, you must face the trials of the garden. Not strength, but heart will decide if you are fit to guard its secrets.”

Finn squeaked in horror. “Trials? Oh no. I knew this key was trouble!” He tugged at Lina’s sleeve. “Let’s go home before this gets worse.”

But Lina’s chest swelled with both fear and excitement. She nodded firmly. “I will face your trials.”

The Keeper lifted his hand. A single glowing root uncurled and touched Lina’s forehead. The hall dissolved into mist, and when the mist faded, she and Finn stood once more in the living garden. Yet it did not feel the same. The air shimmered with enchantment, and every leaf seemed to watch them.

The first trial came swiftly. Along the garden’s edge, a stream of ants rushed in panic. Heavy rainwater from last night’s storm had flooded their tunnels. Crumbs and eggs floated helplessly in the current.

Lina ran forward, kneeling beside the flood. “They’ll drown!”

Finn hesitated, then surprised himself by leaping into action. He snatched a broad leaf, holding it steady like a raft for the stranded ants. Lina wove stems into tiny bridges. Soon, the colony cheered, their queen bowing her head.

“You have saved us, Petal Child,” she said. “Our memory is long, and your kindness shall not be forgotten.”

The trial faded, but another appeared. The Crow swooped down, landing heavily on a fence post. His voice rang sharp.

“Caw! Riddle me this, tiny one: What grows when shared, dies when hoarded, and speaks without words? Answer true, or fail the test.”

Finn’s ears twitched. “Oh, wonderful. Riddles now. My favorite,” he muttered.

Lina pressed a finger to her lips, thinking. She glanced at Finn, then at the flowers swaying as if whispering encouragement. Slowly, her face lit up.

“Hope,” she said firmly. “It grows when shared, dies when hoarded, and speaks without words.”

The Crow tilted his head, feathers glinting. “Caw… clever child. Your heart hears more than your ears. The second trial is passed.”

But the third was hardest of all. Lina found herself once again at the buzzing hive where her last adventure had nearly ended in disaster. The bees whirred angrily, guarding their golden treasure. This time, the Keeper’s voice whispered inside her mind.

“To lead is not to take, but to give. Show them you mean no harm.”

Her hands shook, but she stepped forward and bowed. Instead of reaching for honey, she laid down petals she had gathered along the way—bright blossoms, fresh with dew. The hive grew quiet. One bee, larger than the rest, flew forward and placed a drop of honey in her palm before darting back.

The garden shimmered, and the trials melted away. Lina stood once more in the hall of roots, Finn panting at her side.

The Keeper inclined his head. “Kindness. Wisdom. Courage. You have passed. Yet remember—trials are but the beginning. The garden remembers you, Lina. And soon, it will ask more.”

Lina held the honey drop in her hand, its glow like captured sunlight. She did not yet know what it meant, but she felt its warmth seep into her heart.

---

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 5: The Forgotten Ones

Days passed in peace after the trials, though Lina could not stop thinking about the whispers of the door. She sat often at the foot of the oak, polishing the silver key, wondering what secrets it still hid.

It was the Glowworm Librarian who came to her one night, carrying his bundle of scrolls. His glow cast shadows across her tulip house as he spoke.

“There are things you must know, Petal Child. Long ago, you were not alone. Your kind—small as you, born of petals and dew—once lived throughout the garden. They were called the Petal Folk. But something happened. Something that made them vanish.”

Lina’s eyes widened. “Others like me? Where did they go?”

The Glowworm shook his head slowly. “No one remembers. Their stories are carved in stone, hidden where no giant’s eyes can see. Perhaps the Gardener saved fragments without knowing. But the truth lies deeper.”

That night, Lina and Finn crept to the carvings beneath the oak. They traced their fingers along the etched stone, where figures no larger than a thumb danced beneath stars. Scenes of feasts among flowers, battles with dark roots, and gatherings at the Door of Whispers told a story older than memory.

Finn’s voice was hushed. “Lina… they looked just like you.”

Her heart pounded. She had always believed herself a lone child of the petals, a single spark in a vast world. But here, in stone, was proof of a lost family, a people she had never known.

The Crow landed beside them, unusually quiet. His eyes gleamed with sadness instead of mischief.

“Caw,” he said softly. “They were dreamers, too. And their dreams cost them dearly. Remember this, Petal Girl—every secret carries a shadow.”

Lina clutched the key close. A new resolve bloomed in her chest, bright and dangerous. If the Petal Folk were gone, she would not let their memory fade. She would learn what happened, no matter how dark the path became.

The whispers stirred again beneath the oak, as though waiting for her choice.

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 6: The Door Awakens

The night was softer than silk, the moon a silver coin hanging above the oak. Lina could not sleep. The key lay warm in her palm, as if alive. She rose quietly, Finn trailing nervously behind, and they slipped into the garden.

The oak loomed taller than ever, its roots stretched wide like ancient arms. And there, tucked between two gnarled roots, the Door of Whispers pulsed faintly with light. The silver vines etched into its frame glimmered as though remembering her.

“Are you sure about this?” Finn whispered, tugging his whiskers. “It feels… awake.”

Lina pressed her tiny hand against the wood. The whispers rushed into her ears like wind through hollow reeds. They were not words but emotions—sorrow, longing, and something else… an invitation.

Her breath trembled. “It’s calling me.”

The silver key slid into the lock as though it had always belonged there. A soft click echoed, and the garden seemed to hold its breath. The door did not swing open fully, but a narrow seam of golden light spilled into the night.

Through the crack, Lina glimpsed a world beyond: fields of flowers taller than mountains, rivers of stars flowing like water, and faint outlines of figures as small as herself, dancing in circles of fireflies.

She gasped. “Finn… it’s them. The Petal Folk.”

But as quickly as the vision appeared, it flickered and grew faint. A shadow moved across the golden light—something vast, shifting, and watchful. The whispers turned sharp, almost like a warning.

Finn yelped. “Shut it! Shut it now!”

With shaking hands, Lina pulled the key free. The seam of light vanished, the door sealing once more with a sigh. The garden slowly exhaled, the air heavy with silence.

Lina’s heart pounded. She had seen them. She had seen her people. But behind them lurked something else, something that made the whispers tremble.

She held the key tighter. “I have to know the truth.”

---

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 7: Shadows Among Petals

The next days felt uneasy. The garden was still beautiful, but Lina noticed things she hadn’t before. Shadows lingered longer beneath the leaves. The wind sometimes carried whispers that weren’t gentle but sharp, like thorns.

The Gardener walked through the garden with his usual kindness, tending to roses and watering tulips, yet even he seemed weary, pausing often as if listening to something he could not name.

One evening, while Lina gathered dew into her thimble-cup, she heard a faint rustle. Out of the ivy crept a creature she had never seen before—small, cloaked in darkness, with eyes like drops of ink.

It spoke in a voice dry as old bark. “Child of petals… you opened the door.”

Lina froze, clutching the key. “Who are you?”

The creature’s grin widened. “One who remembers what others forget. One who feeds on whispers left behind.” Its form shimmered, as if woven from shadows themselves. “The Petal Folk opened the door once, too. And when they did, they vanished.”

Finn squeaked and leapt behind Lina. “I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

But Lina, though trembling, stood firm. “Why did they vanish? Tell me.”

The shadow’s eyes gleamed. “Because some doors do not open to freedom. They open to hunger.”

Before Lina could reply, the shadow melted back into the ivy, leaving only a chill in the air.

The Crow descended moments later, feathers bristling. “Caw! Stay away from ivy’s edge, Petal Girl. There are old things here, older than even the oak. You’ve stirred them.” His voice dropped low. “And once stirred, they do not sleep again.”

That night, Lina sat by her flower-petal window, the key glinting faintly under moonlight. She no longer felt only wonder—she felt the weight of choice. The whispers were growing louder, and with them, so were the shadows.

And yet, deep in her heart, she knew one thing: if the Petal Folk were truly out there, she could not turn away.

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 8: The Lantern of Memory

The garden lay hushed beneath a misty dawn. Lina woke to find the whispers louder than ever, twining through her dreams. They spoke of paths unseen, of secrets hidden in petals and roots.

When she stepped outside, the Crow perched on the tulip stem, feathers glossy with dew. His voice was unusually serious.

“Caw. If you mean to follow those whispers, little one, you’ll need more than courage. You’ll need a guide through shadows.”

He dropped something at her feet—an old lantern, shaped from twisted vines, with a shard of crystal at its heart.

“What is it?” Lina asked, touching it gently.

“The Lantern of Memory,” the Crow said. “It burns not with fire, but with truth. Hold it close, and you may see what once was, and what waits still.”

Finn frowned. “Why would we want to see what waits? I’d rather stay safe.”

But Lina’s heart beat fast. She lifted the lantern, and at once a pale glow shimmered inside it. Images flickered—tiny figures dancing in circles, laughter echoing faintly. For an instant, she saw her mother’s face, blurred like a dream.

Her throat tightened. “They’re calling me…”

Finn sighed, ears drooping. “I know that look. You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not until I find them.”

---

🌸 Lina and the Hidden Garden – Chapter 9: The Rootway

That night, guided by the lantern, Lina and Finn ventured to the oldest part of the garden—the tangled root maze beneath the oak. The roots twisted like tunnels, thick and damp with moss.

The lantern glowed brighter, revealing faint carvings etched into the wood. Tiny spirals, stars, and flowers—marks left by hands no bigger than hers.

“They were here,” Lina breathed. “The Petal Folk carved this. They left a path.”

Finn squeaked nervously. “Or… or a warning.”

The deeper they went, the colder the air became. The whispers shifted too, now carrying not just longing but fear. Still, Lina pressed forward.

At the heart of the maze, they found a hollow chamber. A pool of still water lay in the center, its surface glimmering like glass. The lantern’s light touched it, and the water stirred, reflecting not their faces but another world—fields of endless blooms, rivers that sparkled with starlight.

Lina gasped. “It’s the other side of the door. We’re close.”

But before joy could fill her, the water darkened. A shadow passed across it, coiling like smoke. Two eyes blinked open in the reflection, vast and hungry. The whispers sharpened into a single word:

“Soon.”

The pool stilled. The glow faded.

Finn clutched her arm, trembling. “Lina, whatever’s on the other side… maybe it doesn’t just want you. Maybe it wants everything.”

Lina held the lantern tighter, her resolve hardening. “Then we’ll find a way to stop it. Because if the Petal Folk are trapped there, I’m bringing them home.”

The oak creaked above them, as if listening. The garden was no longer just a sanctuary—it was a gate.

And now, both sides of that gate were stirring awake.

🌸 Chapter 10: The Watcher in the Ivy

The garden felt restless. Even the flowers bowed lower, heavy with silence. Lina carried the Lantern of Memory everywhere now, its glow her comfort. But that night, as the moon rose, the light flickered—not warm and steady, but sharp and jagged.

She heard it before she saw it: a hiss like dry leaves scraping together. The ivy wall near the oak shivered, and from it unfurled the same shadow-creature she had glimpsed before. Its form was half-smoke, half-root, eyes glistening like drops of ink.

“You carry their light,” it rasped, voice dripping with hunger. “But light cannot keep you safe forever.”

Finn darted behind Lina, shaking. “It’s him again! Lina, let’s run!”

But Lina stood her ground, clutching the lantern. Its glow flared, and the shadow hissed, retreating slightly. For a moment, the light painted its true shape: a twisted tangle of broken petals and withered vines, as though it was born from the garden’s forgotten grief.

“What are you?” Lina asked, her voice trembling.

The shadow grinned, a crack of darkness. “I am what was left behind when your kind fled. The garden remembers pain as much as beauty. And I am that memory.”

The Lantern flared again, and the creature melted into the ivy, but its whisper lingered.

“You opened the door, little Petal. Soon, it will not open for you alone.”

Lina’s chest tightened. The whispers she once found wondrous now sounded like warnings. And still, she felt the key pressing warm against her palm, urging her onward.

---

🌸 Chapter 11: The Gardener’s Dream

That same night, while Lina tossed in worry, the Gardener stirred from his sleep. He dreamed—not of tools and soil, but of strange lights flickering in his garden. He saw tiny figures darting among petals, their laughter ringing like chimes. And then he saw Lina—small, glowing, standing before the oak with a lantern in her hands.

He awoke with a start, heart pounding. He rose from bed and walked barefoot to the garden. The moonlight bathed the flowers in silver. For a moment, he thought he heard whispers too, soft as sighs, curling from the roots of the oak.

He knelt and touched the soil, speaking quietly as though to the earth itself.

“I don’t know what you’re keeping from me… but if there’s life here I can’t see, let me protect it.”

His hand brushed against a stone, half-buried, carved with spirals like those Lina had seen. The Gardener frowned, tracing it gently. It pulsed faintly beneath his touch, as though responding.

Unseen in the shadows, Lina and Finn watched, wide-eyed.

“He felt it,” Finn whispered. “He doesn’t know us, but… he feels us.”

For the first time, Lina’s heart sparked with hope. Maybe the Gardener wasn’t just unknowingly protecting them. Maybe the garden was trying to bridge the worlds together—through him.

But as they watched, the ivy wall shivered again. Two dark eyes gleamed from its depths, fixed not on Lina this time, but on the Gardener.

The shadow-creature whispered a single word, so faint even the wind could barely carry it:

“Soon.”🌸 Chapter 12: The Garden’s Secret Heart

The morning unfolded with golden light spilling across the garden, but Lina felt a weight pressing on her chest. The whispers had grown stronger in the night, wrapping around her dreams until she woke with the Lantern of Memory humming faintly at her side. She couldn’t shake the pull it gave her, urging her deeper into the garden.

Finn trailed behind her, whiskers twitching nervously. “You’re walking like someone bewitched. Can’t we just… I don’t know, have breakfast and not chase glowing secrets for once?”

But Lina barely heard him. The lantern’s glow pulsed brighter as they reached the circle of stones the Gardener had laid long ago. She had always thought it was just a pretty ring for flowers to grow inside, but now she saw faint silver veins threading through each rock, as though invisible hands had stitched them together.

The moment she stepped inside the circle, the whispers that had filled her ears all week suddenly hushed. The silence was so sudden it made her skin prickle. And then—like the ringing of a single clear bell—one voice broke through.

“Lina.”

Her knees almost gave way. That voice—soft, warm, tender—was one she knew as surely as her own heartbeat. Her mother.

Finn’s fur bristled. “No. Nope. Don’t answer that. It could be a trick!”

But Lina’s eyes filled with tears. “I have to.”

Her voice trembled as she whispered back, “Mother?”

The Lantern of Memory blazed, casting light so bright it filled the circle. The soil trembled. From its depths, rising like morning mist, came a vision. A woman’s face formed in the glow, delicate as petals, eyes full of love. She reached out her hands, though they wavered like a reflection on water.

“My little bloom,” the vision whispered. “We are waiting. But the door is not safe. Do not trust the voices that lead you toward hunger.”

Lina’s hand stretched toward her, but her fingers passed through empty light. The vision shivered, then dissolved, leaving only the faint glow of the stones.

The silence pressed heavy again.

Finn tugged her sleeve. “That wasn’t just memory. That was her. But if she’s warning you… Lina, maybe we shouldn’t—”

Before he could finish, a harsh flutter of wings cut the air. The Crow landed on the edge of the circle, feathers black as night, eyes glinting sharp.

“Caw. Foolish, brave child. You’ve touched the garden’s heart.”

Lina turned quickly, hope and desperation tangling in her chest. “I saw her! My mother—she spoke to me!”

The Crow tilted his head, his voice heavy with something like pity. “And do you think the garden gives its secrets freely? Every vision has thorns. Every whisper has a cost.”

Finn flailed his paws. “Finally! Someone’s making sense!”

But the Crow hopped closer, lowering his voice so it rumbled like stormclouds. “Listen well, Petal Girl. The door does not belong to you alone. It stirs old things, hungry things. If you open it fully, you may not only find your people—you may unleash what even the oak cannot bind.”

The words sank into Lina’s bones, but the glow of the lantern still pressed against her chest like a heartbeat. “But what if I find a way? What if I open it safely?”

The Crow spread his wings wide, their shadow swallowing half the circle. His voice was soft now, almost mournful. “Then may the garden forgive you.”

And with a heavy beat of wings, he was gone, leaving petals trembling in his wake.

Lina stood in the circle, fists clenched around the key and the lantern, her tears drying into resolve.

She turned to Finn, who looked like he wanted to run and never look back.

“I can’t stop,” Lina said quietly. “She’s alive. They all are. And I won’t leave them there.”

Finn groaned, covering his face. “I knew you’d say that.”

But even as he said it, he fell into step beside her.

Because where Lina went, he would go too.

And unseen, in the ivy’s dark folds, the shadow-creature stirred, smiling with teeth of emptiness.

“She cannot tell truth from dream,” it hissed. “And that is how she will fall.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***