Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 36: Chapter 36
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Location: Classified Government Facility — Sublevel 4, Command Briefing Room
Time: 0300 hours, less than twelve hours after the Anderson standoff
The room buzzed with tension and recycled air.
Agent Kessler stood at the head of the oval table, arms behind his back, eyes burning holes through the holographic projection of the Anderson estate. Surveillance drones caught only flashes — a boy speaking to animals, a storm of deer and birds, and Dahlia’s healing light. The footage froze mid-glow, her hands cradling her brother’s head, petals rising like ash around them.
“Gone,” Kessler said tightly. “Again.”
He turned. His core team sat in grim silence.
• Dr. Reva Lin, geneticist and anomaly analyst, tapped her stylus nervously.
• Agent Jules Nivens, field coordinator, leaned back with a bandaged arm from the stampede.
• Major Grant Sorell, military liaison, arms crossed, jaw like granite.
• Director Carmen Velez, internal intelligence, watched with eyes narrowed like blades.
“Seventeen months,” Kessler said. “We tracked Mira across three continents. Waited for a mistake. And what happens when she finally surfaces?” He gestured sharply. “The Andersons shelter her. They shelter all of them.”
“We should’ve hit harder,” said Sorell. “You gave them too much warning.”
“We needed data,” Reva muttered. “We needed Dahlia to use her ability. And she did.”
Director Velez finally spoke, her voice like dry steel. “She healed the boy. That’s confirmation of transference capacity. Possibly even cross-bloodline regeneration.”
“And now they’re all in the wind,” Jules added, rubbing his shoulder. “The animals were coordinated. That wasn’t instinct — that was command.”
“They call it the Bloom Gift,” Reva said, flicking through genetic overlays. “What she has is not just healing. It’s botanical control merged with… something pre-human. The brother’s is more primal. Linked to animal cognition, possibly electromagnetic empathy.”
Kessler’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “We don’t care what they call it. What we care about is containment.”
Sorell stood. “The Andersons are no longer just a rogue family. They're an influence cell. They blocked federal ops, harbored two unregistered paranormals, and made a mockery of protocol.”
“They made us look like the villains,” Jules muttered.
“They’re training her,” Velez added. “All of them. The girl has military reflexes, tactical sense, and supernatural healing. And she chose to disappear.”
Reva looked up slowly. “What if she wasn’t running from us… but running toward something else?”
Kessler walked to the screen and pressed his hand against a still frame: Dahlia’s face in the moment before she vanished into the forest. Calm. Decided. Powerful.
“Dahlia is not Mira,” he said quietly. “Mira ran to hide. Dahlia ran to protect.”
He turned to the others.
“She’s a threat now. Not because she wants to be. But because if she keeps using that power, people will come for her. Not just us. Foreign governments. Tech syndicates. Private armies.”
“We need to move carefully,” Velez said. “Another failure makes us look weak. Worse — if public gets wind of this—”
“They won’t,” Kessler snapped. “But we don’t strike again until we know what we’re dealing with. No more assumptions.”
Sorell slammed a folder on the table. “And what about the Andersons? You want to sit back while they build an underground of supernatural mercenaries?”
“They’re not mercenaries,” Reva said quietly. “They’re a family. That’s what makes them so effective. So dangerous.”
A long silence.
Jules looked around. “So what’s the play?”
Kessler slowly lifted his eyes.
“We watch. We listen. We cut their communications. We follow their allies, their supply lines, their favors. We find the brother again. That boy doesn’t have control yet.”
“And Dahlia?” Velez asked.
Kessler's voice dropped a tone.
“When she breaks — and she will — we’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
Time: 0300 hours, less than twelve hours after the Anderson standoff
The room buzzed with tension and recycled air.
Agent Kessler stood at the head of the oval table, arms behind his back, eyes burning holes through the holographic projection of the Anderson estate. Surveillance drones caught only flashes — a boy speaking to animals, a storm of deer and birds, and Dahlia’s healing light. The footage froze mid-glow, her hands cradling her brother’s head, petals rising like ash around them.
“Gone,” Kessler said tightly. “Again.”
He turned. His core team sat in grim silence.
• Dr. Reva Lin, geneticist and anomaly analyst, tapped her stylus nervously.
• Agent Jules Nivens, field coordinator, leaned back with a bandaged arm from the stampede.
• Major Grant Sorell, military liaison, arms crossed, jaw like granite.
• Director Carmen Velez, internal intelligence, watched with eyes narrowed like blades.
“Seventeen months,” Kessler said. “We tracked Mira across three continents. Waited for a mistake. And what happens when she finally surfaces?” He gestured sharply. “The Andersons shelter her. They shelter all of them.”
“We should’ve hit harder,” said Sorell. “You gave them too much warning.”
“We needed data,” Reva muttered. “We needed Dahlia to use her ability. And she did.”
Director Velez finally spoke, her voice like dry steel. “She healed the boy. That’s confirmation of transference capacity. Possibly even cross-bloodline regeneration.”
“And now they’re all in the wind,” Jules added, rubbing his shoulder. “The animals were coordinated. That wasn’t instinct — that was command.”
“They call it the Bloom Gift,” Reva said, flicking through genetic overlays. “What she has is not just healing. It’s botanical control merged with… something pre-human. The brother’s is more primal. Linked to animal cognition, possibly electromagnetic empathy.”
Kessler’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. “We don’t care what they call it. What we care about is containment.”
Sorell stood. “The Andersons are no longer just a rogue family. They're an influence cell. They blocked federal ops, harbored two unregistered paranormals, and made a mockery of protocol.”
“They made us look like the villains,” Jules muttered.
“They’re training her,” Velez added. “All of them. The girl has military reflexes, tactical sense, and supernatural healing. And she chose to disappear.”
Reva looked up slowly. “What if she wasn’t running from us… but running toward something else?”
Kessler walked to the screen and pressed his hand against a still frame: Dahlia’s face in the moment before she vanished into the forest. Calm. Decided. Powerful.
“Dahlia is not Mira,” he said quietly. “Mira ran to hide. Dahlia ran to protect.”
He turned to the others.
“She’s a threat now. Not because she wants to be. But because if she keeps using that power, people will come for her. Not just us. Foreign governments. Tech syndicates. Private armies.”
“We need to move carefully,” Velez said. “Another failure makes us look weak. Worse — if public gets wind of this—”
“They won’t,” Kessler snapped. “But we don’t strike again until we know what we’re dealing with. No more assumptions.”
Sorell slammed a folder on the table. “And what about the Andersons? You want to sit back while they build an underground of supernatural mercenaries?”
“They’re not mercenaries,” Reva said quietly. “They’re a family. That’s what makes them so effective. So dangerous.”
A long silence.
Jules looked around. “So what’s the play?”
Kessler slowly lifted his eyes.
“We watch. We listen. We cut their communications. We follow their allies, their supply lines, their favors. We find the brother again. That boy doesn’t have control yet.”
“And Dahlia?” Velez asked.
Kessler's voice dropped a tone.
“When she breaks — and she will — we’ll be there to pick up the pieces.”
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 36. Continue reading Chapter 37 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.