Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 39: Chapter 39

Central Operations – Classified Government Facility
The room was a vault of cold steel and static screens, illuminated by wall-sized displays of global heat maps, surveillance logs, intercepted transmissions, and satellite recon.
Agent Kessler stood at the center — tall, composed, jaw clenched like a steel trap. Around him: the four best trackers in the department.
• Silas, the surveillance tech expert.
• Camara, the field tactician.
• Ruth Vega, psychological profiler.
• Derrick Moss, bio-signature analyst.
All eyes were on the primary display: three red markers fading out over Africa, Brazil, and a blurred signal in Australia.
Kessler snapped, “What do you mean we lost all of them?”
Silas tapped furiously on his tablet. “We didn’t lose them. We lost the real one among the dozens of false positives. They’re burying her in echoes.”
Ruth leaned forward. “And it’s not just the girl. It’s her family. Every sighting ends with petals. Sick people healed. Animals trailing villages like ghosts. They’re not hiding — they’re confusing the narrative.”
Camara grunted. “It’s a psychological war. She's not running. She’s being protected. And every local we question gets poetic — ‘she became the wind,’ ‘the flowers whispered her name.’ It’s madness.”
Derrick tossed a folder onto the table — marked: BLOOM TRACE//C-CLASSIFIED.
“Analysis shows eighty-seven confirmed flower signature matches in the last thirty-six hours. That’s impossible unless she can teleport or replicate.”
Silas glanced at his screen. “She can’t. Not based on what we’ve got from her hospital files — and whatever’s left of her mother’s redacted psych profile.”
Kessler’s nostrils flared. “Speaking of which — where’s Mira?”
Ruth dropped a report. “Still no digital footprint. No social media, banking, transit, or rental logs since she left the hospital ten years ago. Whoever helped her disappear is very good. Possibly ex-military. Possibly someone we trained.”
Camara muttered, “We should’ve grabbed her the second she showed up at the Anderson estate.”
Kessler growled. “You think I didn’t try? That entire property is shielded tighter than a presidential bunker. That old man — William — has diplomatic protections from three countries. And Antonio? He's on a dozen buried government lists.”
Silas pulled up a live feed: a zoomed-out map of Anderson-adjacent locations.
“Meanwhile, someone named Amy — probably the girl’s friend — is passing out flower traces like trail mix. We’ve got her on camera in Uganda, Brazil, and two shipping ports. She’s leaving petals, but no Dahlia.”
Kessler pointed to the board.
“Three fronts, same plan. A fabricated trail to protect one real girl. They’ve turned sentiment into camouflage.”
Ruth frowned. “And it’s working.”
Elsewhere in the Room – Quiet Conversation
In the corner, Moss and Camara spoke low.
“You ever wonder,” Moss asked, “if maybe we’re on the wrong side of this?”
Camara raised a brow. “You mean the gifted girl healing the sick while we hunt her like a threat?”
Moss hesitated. “Just... we’ve seen what real weapons look like. She doesn’t feel like one.”
Camara nodded. “Doesn’t matter. If someone wants her, it means someone can use her. That’s the risk.”
Moss looked toward Kessler, who was now barking orders.
“And what if someone’s already using her? And not for power — but for good?”
Back at the Table – Tension Rising
Kessler pulled up Dahlia’s file — the only photo they had was years old, and yet every line on the screen pulsed like a heartbeat.
“She’s not a ghost,” he said. “She’s a living weapon, shaped by unknown forces, guarded by an elite paramilitary family, and now traveling with a known rogue and a brother with confirmed para-natural traits.”
He slapped the table.
“I don’t care how many flowers they plant. We will find her.”
Ruth, quiet but clear, added, “And then what? You cage her? Turn her into something worse?”
Silas coughed to break the silence. “There’s something else.”
He pulled up a slow satellite feed over northern Canada — one of the few places not saturated with Dahlia sightings.
“No trace of her here. But one of the Anderson family’s private gliders was seen passing over this area — no transponder, no passenger manifest, no exit scan.”
Kessler leaned in.
“Then that’s where we go next.”