Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 17: Chapter 17
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On the morning of their thirteenth birthday, Dahlia and Amy woke to find identical envelopes on their nightstands. Cream-colored parchment, wax-sealed with a sunflower emblem pressed in gold.
Amy’s eyes widened. “Is this... one of those fancy training things?”
Dahlia opened hers. Inside, a handwritten note in William’s tidy script:
To our bright blooms,
You are ready.
Your mission awaits. No spells. No sparks. Just instincts, trust, and wit.
Find what was taken. Restore what was lost. Begin at the old tree near the western field.
Signed, The Garden Keepers.
Amy grinned. “This is so dramatic. I love it.”
Phase One – The Clue
At the edge of the estate’s western field stood an ancient oak, gnarled and wide-armed. There, tucked in a hollow, they found a riddle carved into wood:
“What gives without taking, listens without ears, and disappears when found?”
Amy tilted her head. “A shadow?”
Dahlia shook her head slowly. “No… that doesn’t disappear when you find it.”
After a moment of silence, she whispered, “A secret.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “Nice!”
Beneath the riddle, a hidden drawer slid open, revealing a locket — empty — and a second note:
“The heart that held this locket is missing something. Find her story. Make her whole.”
Phase Two – The Puzzle
Their search led them through whispered conversations with longtime staff, decoding cryptic lines in the library’s old journals, and finally to the east greenhouse — the quiet one no one used.
Inside, they found an old photo of a girl in a sunhat, tending roses. Her smile was the same as the one on the locket’s back, etched faintly: Clara. 1925.
Amy ran her fingers over the glass. “She lived here?”
Dahlia nodded. “And she lost something.”
In the corner of the room, buried beneath dusty garden tools, was a small wooden box. Inside: dried rose petals, a cracked monocle, and a folded letter never sent.
Dearest Clara,
If I could say it out loud, I would. But you know me — always better with flowers than words.
Come find me in the wild garden. If you wear the locket, I’ll know you forgave me.
Amy whispered, “He waited for her.”
Dahlia carefully placed the locket into the box. The two girls looked at each other.
“We restored her story,” Amy said. “Not with magic… but with heart.”
Phase Three – The Return
When they returned to the main house, the adults were waiting: Antonio, Eliot, Christian, Theo, William. Even the gardener nodded solemnly.
Christian whistled low. “I thought they’d come back screaming about ghosts.”
Theo smirked. “They cracked the emotional code. Impressive.”
William stepped forward. “You two have passed your first mission. Not because you solved a riddle, or pieced together a forgotten love. But because you listened. And cared.”
Antonio placed a hand on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Strength without compassion is just power.”
Eliot tossed Amy a small badge shaped like a sunflower. “Welcome to the team, Agent Bloom.”
Amy beamed. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”
Excellent choice — here's a continuation that explores both the emotional aftermath of their first mission and sets the stage for future missions as they grow older, blending development, challenge, and the deepening bond between Dahlia and Amy.
Later that evening, after the applause and gentle praise faded, Dahlia and Amy sat beneath the stars on the estate roof, wrapped in a blanket they’d dragged up themselves.
The locket rested between them.
“I keep thinking about her,” Amy said softly. “Clara. How long her story was just… lost.”
Dahlia nodded. “It made me realize—people forget things. Even important ones. Stories vanish.”
Amy looked at her. “Do you think that’ll happen to us?”
Dahlia hesitated. “I think… it’s why we train. Not just to fight. But to remember what matters.”
Amy leaned her head on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Then promise me we won’t forget. Not each other. Not who we are.”
Dahlia reached over, lacing their pinkies together. “Never.”
From the darkness below, they heard the low whistle of the wind through the garden. Like a secret saying thank you.
That Night – Under the Stars
Later that evening, after the applause and gentle praise faded, Dahlia and Amy climbed onto the estate roof. It had taken them three blankets, a flashlight, and some suspicious rope work from the east balcony, but they made it.
They sat side by side under the summer stars, knees drawn up, the empty locket resting between them on a folded napkin.
Amy was quiet at first, chewing her bottom lip. The night was still, the only sound the occasional chirp of insects from the garden below.
“I keep thinking about her,” she finally said. “Clara. How long her story was just… sitting there. Forgotten.”
Dahlia watched the sky. “Like no one knew it ever mattered.”
“She loved someone. Someone loved her back. And it just... ended. Not even on purpose.”
There was a pause. Amy’s voice was quieter now. “Do you think that could happen to us?”
Dahlia glanced at her. “You mean like… being forgotten?”
“No. I mean…” Amy hugged her knees tighter. “Losing each other.”
That hit Dahlia like a stone skipping across still water, breaking every thought she’d been holding in. “Amy…”
“We go on these missions. We face things most people don’t even believe exist. And today wasn’t even dangerous, not really. But I felt it. That weight. Like... someday, we’re going to be the ones someone writes a letter to and never sends. Or leaves behind.”
Dahlia looked down at the locket. “I felt it too.”
A silence fell between them, long and heavy, filled with things they didn’t know how to say yet.
Then Dahlia whispered, “That’s why we train. Not just to fight. But to remember what matters. So we don’t become the people who lose their way.”
Amy’s voice cracked. “But what if it’s not enough? What if something happens and I freeze, or I forget what you taught me, or—”
“Then I’ll be there,” Dahlia said, fiercely now. “I will not leave you behind. I don’t care what’s coming. I don’t care how hard it gets. You are not alone.”
Amy’s breath hitched. “You mean that?”
“I swear it,” Dahlia said, grabbing her hand and placing it over the locket. “We started something today. Something real. We woke up girls. We came back as guardians.”
Amy’s eyes were glassy. “But I’m still scared.”
“So am I,” Dahlia whispered. “But courage isn’t about not being scared. It’s about choosing each other anyway.”
Amy reached out and laced their pinkies together. “Then promise me. Promise we’ll never forget who we are. Not when it gets dark. Not when it gets ugly.”
Dahlia tightened the hold. “I promise. You and me. No matter what.”
Amy breathed out, her shoulders finally easing. “Team Sunbloom,” she said, almost reverently. “We don’t just fight monsters. We remember the ones no one else does.”
Dahlia nodded, the stars reflected in her eyes. “And we write the stories no one else will.”
From the garden below, a warm wind stirred the flowers. The petals shivered in waves — not like fear, but like breath. Like memory waking.
And above them, two girls leaned into each other under the quiet sky. Not just agents. Not just children.
Keepers of something bigger than even they understood yet.
Amy’s eyes widened. “Is this... one of those fancy training things?”
Dahlia opened hers. Inside, a handwritten note in William’s tidy script:
To our bright blooms,
You are ready.
Your mission awaits. No spells. No sparks. Just instincts, trust, and wit.
Find what was taken. Restore what was lost. Begin at the old tree near the western field.
Signed, The Garden Keepers.
Amy grinned. “This is so dramatic. I love it.”
Phase One – The Clue
At the edge of the estate’s western field stood an ancient oak, gnarled and wide-armed. There, tucked in a hollow, they found a riddle carved into wood:
“What gives without taking, listens without ears, and disappears when found?”
Amy tilted her head. “A shadow?”
Dahlia shook her head slowly. “No… that doesn’t disappear when you find it.”
After a moment of silence, she whispered, “A secret.”
Amy’s eyes lit up. “Nice!”
Beneath the riddle, a hidden drawer slid open, revealing a locket — empty — and a second note:
“The heart that held this locket is missing something. Find her story. Make her whole.”
Phase Two – The Puzzle
Their search led them through whispered conversations with longtime staff, decoding cryptic lines in the library’s old journals, and finally to the east greenhouse — the quiet one no one used.
Inside, they found an old photo of a girl in a sunhat, tending roses. Her smile was the same as the one on the locket’s back, etched faintly: Clara. 1925.
Amy ran her fingers over the glass. “She lived here?”
Dahlia nodded. “And she lost something.”
In the corner of the room, buried beneath dusty garden tools, was a small wooden box. Inside: dried rose petals, a cracked monocle, and a folded letter never sent.
Dearest Clara,
If I could say it out loud, I would. But you know me — always better with flowers than words.
Come find me in the wild garden. If you wear the locket, I’ll know you forgave me.
Amy whispered, “He waited for her.”
Dahlia carefully placed the locket into the box. The two girls looked at each other.
“We restored her story,” Amy said. “Not with magic… but with heart.”
Phase Three – The Return
When they returned to the main house, the adults were waiting: Antonio, Eliot, Christian, Theo, William. Even the gardener nodded solemnly.
Christian whistled low. “I thought they’d come back screaming about ghosts.”
Theo smirked. “They cracked the emotional code. Impressive.”
William stepped forward. “You two have passed your first mission. Not because you solved a riddle, or pieced together a forgotten love. But because you listened. And cared.”
Antonio placed a hand on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Strength without compassion is just power.”
Eliot tossed Amy a small badge shaped like a sunflower. “Welcome to the team, Agent Bloom.”
Amy beamed. “Best. Birthday. Ever.”
Excellent choice — here's a continuation that explores both the emotional aftermath of their first mission and sets the stage for future missions as they grow older, blending development, challenge, and the deepening bond between Dahlia and Amy.
Later that evening, after the applause and gentle praise faded, Dahlia and Amy sat beneath the stars on the estate roof, wrapped in a blanket they’d dragged up themselves.
The locket rested between them.
“I keep thinking about her,” Amy said softly. “Clara. How long her story was just… lost.”
Dahlia nodded. “It made me realize—people forget things. Even important ones. Stories vanish.”
Amy looked at her. “Do you think that’ll happen to us?”
Dahlia hesitated. “I think… it’s why we train. Not just to fight. But to remember what matters.”
Amy leaned her head on Dahlia’s shoulder. “Then promise me we won’t forget. Not each other. Not who we are.”
Dahlia reached over, lacing their pinkies together. “Never.”
From the darkness below, they heard the low whistle of the wind through the garden. Like a secret saying thank you.
That Night – Under the Stars
Later that evening, after the applause and gentle praise faded, Dahlia and Amy climbed onto the estate roof. It had taken them three blankets, a flashlight, and some suspicious rope work from the east balcony, but they made it.
They sat side by side under the summer stars, knees drawn up, the empty locket resting between them on a folded napkin.
Amy was quiet at first, chewing her bottom lip. The night was still, the only sound the occasional chirp of insects from the garden below.
“I keep thinking about her,” she finally said. “Clara. How long her story was just… sitting there. Forgotten.”
Dahlia watched the sky. “Like no one knew it ever mattered.”
“She loved someone. Someone loved her back. And it just... ended. Not even on purpose.”
There was a pause. Amy’s voice was quieter now. “Do you think that could happen to us?”
Dahlia glanced at her. “You mean like… being forgotten?”
“No. I mean…” Amy hugged her knees tighter. “Losing each other.”
That hit Dahlia like a stone skipping across still water, breaking every thought she’d been holding in. “Amy…”
“We go on these missions. We face things most people don’t even believe exist. And today wasn’t even dangerous, not really. But I felt it. That weight. Like... someday, we’re going to be the ones someone writes a letter to and never sends. Or leaves behind.”
Dahlia looked down at the locket. “I felt it too.”
A silence fell between them, long and heavy, filled with things they didn’t know how to say yet.
Then Dahlia whispered, “That’s why we train. Not just to fight. But to remember what matters. So we don’t become the people who lose their way.”
Amy’s voice cracked. “But what if it’s not enough? What if something happens and I freeze, or I forget what you taught me, or—”
“Then I’ll be there,” Dahlia said, fiercely now. “I will not leave you behind. I don’t care what’s coming. I don’t care how hard it gets. You are not alone.”
Amy’s breath hitched. “You mean that?”
“I swear it,” Dahlia said, grabbing her hand and placing it over the locket. “We started something today. Something real. We woke up girls. We came back as guardians.”
Amy’s eyes were glassy. “But I’m still scared.”
“So am I,” Dahlia whispered. “But courage isn’t about not being scared. It’s about choosing each other anyway.”
Amy reached out and laced their pinkies together. “Then promise me. Promise we’ll never forget who we are. Not when it gets dark. Not when it gets ugly.”
Dahlia tightened the hold. “I promise. You and me. No matter what.”
Amy breathed out, her shoulders finally easing. “Team Sunbloom,” she said, almost reverently. “We don’t just fight monsters. We remember the ones no one else does.”
Dahlia nodded, the stars reflected in her eyes. “And we write the stories no one else will.”
From the garden below, a warm wind stirred the flowers. The petals shivered in waves — not like fear, but like breath. Like memory waking.
And above them, two girls leaned into each other under the quiet sky. Not just agents. Not just children.
Keepers of something bigger than even they understood yet.
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 17. Continue reading Chapter 18 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.