Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 40: Chapter 40
You are reading Dahlia and the Garden of Light, Chapter 40: Chapter 40. Read more chapters of Dahlia and the Garden of Light.
Northern Alberta – Snowline Ridge
The air in the mountains bit like old iron. Wind clawed through the trees, and frost clung to the underbrush like it had something to hide.
Markus crouched by a small creek bed, gloved hand brushing a crushed petal — faintly glowing violet, slightly warm even in the cold.
He exhaled, quietly.
“She was here,” he murmured.
He stood slowly, eyes sweeping the frozen terrain. His breath steamed. Tracks faded north — small, deliberate. Three people. Their pace was uneven.
“She’s tired,” he whispered, “but she’s smart.”
He didn’t follow them — not directly.
Instead, he turned toward the nearby town of Red Ash, population 920. There, he had a contact. Someone who could help seed the ground with protection.
Red Ash Tavern – Private Booth
The door creaked open, and Thomas stood, taller and broader than Markus remembered. His grizzled beard and flannel jacket didn’t hide the fact that he still moved like a soldier.
Markus grinned. “You got older.”
“You got skinnier,” Thomas smirked, pulling him into a firm hug. “Still carrying the world on your back, huh?”
Markus didn’t waste time. He slid a small velvet pouch across the table. Inside — twelve pressed flower petals, radiant even in the dim light.
“Looks like art,” Thomas said, examining them. “Feels like… something more.”
“They heal,” Markus said. “People, land, sickness. But they do more than that — they confuse the ones tracking her. If the wrong hands get her—”
Thomas interrupted, jaw tense. “You mean the girl?”
Markus nodded. “Her name is Dahlia. She’s real. She’s good. She’s in danger. The people looking for her want to cage her, use her, control her brother — a ten-year-old with powers of his own.”
Thomas sat back, gaze hardening. “And you want me to help spread a myth.”
Markus leaned in. “I want you to help protect the truth — by hiding it under noise. These petals can fool the scanners. Make people believe she’s somewhere she’s not. And at the same time, they actually help people. Real medicine. Real healing. She left behind light. Let’s make it blinding.”
Thomas stared at the pouch again, thumb pressing against the cloth.
“You saved my life in Fallujah,” he said quietly. “So I’ll trust you now.”
Ottawa – Thomas’s Inner Circle Gathering
In a private lodge near the capital, Thomas brought together his closest allies — environmental leaders, scientists, and two government advisors. Among them, Dr. Eileen Rourke, biochemist and health policy lead; Colonel Jean-Pierre Marchand, ex-military strategist; and Admiral Keira Song, head of disaster logistics.
He laid out the petals and Markus’s story. The reactions were immediate.
Dr. Rourke: “These flowers… they stabilize cell degeneration? This could be world-changing.”
Marchand: “If the government wants to own her, it means they know what she is. If we spread this cure… they lose that leverage.”
Admiral Song: “And what if they find out we’re involved?”
Thomas met their eyes. “Then let them come. But they won’t find her. They’ll only find rumors, recovery clinics, and a hundred people ready to say she was just here — and gone again.”
Meeting With the Canadian President – A Private Garden
Later that week, Thomas stood in a discreet greenhouse on Parliament Hill. President Annalise Monroe walked beside him, hands behind her back, a flower petal tucked in a sealed vial.
“She healed a burned child in the Amazon. Brought sight back to a grandmother in Uganda,” Monroe whispered. “This girl…”
“She’s more than her gift,” Thomas said gently. “And she’s not a threat. But the ones chasing her — they are.”
The President looked at the petal.
“Where is she now?”
Thomas’s smile was subtle. “Everywhere. And nowhere.”
She glanced toward the horizon. “You’ll have my silence. And my support — quietly. Canada will not aid those hunting her.”
Back in Red Ash – Markus’s Camp
Markus crouched near the fire, flanked by loyal townspeople now armed with stories, petals, and false trails. A young girl with a respiratory condition breathed easy again after inhaling the steam of Dahlia’s flower. Her mother wept, holding Markus’s hand.
Nearby, a hunter whispered to his dog, “She was real. I felt it. Her kindness stayed.”
Markus packed his things and stared into the fire.
“Keep her safe,” he whispered to the flames, then disappeared into the forest once more — chasing footsteps made of light and snow.
The air in the mountains bit like old iron. Wind clawed through the trees, and frost clung to the underbrush like it had something to hide.
Markus crouched by a small creek bed, gloved hand brushing a crushed petal — faintly glowing violet, slightly warm even in the cold.
He exhaled, quietly.
“She was here,” he murmured.
He stood slowly, eyes sweeping the frozen terrain. His breath steamed. Tracks faded north — small, deliberate. Three people. Their pace was uneven.
“She’s tired,” he whispered, “but she’s smart.”
He didn’t follow them — not directly.
Instead, he turned toward the nearby town of Red Ash, population 920. There, he had a contact. Someone who could help seed the ground with protection.
Red Ash Tavern – Private Booth
The door creaked open, and Thomas stood, taller and broader than Markus remembered. His grizzled beard and flannel jacket didn’t hide the fact that he still moved like a soldier.
Markus grinned. “You got older.”
“You got skinnier,” Thomas smirked, pulling him into a firm hug. “Still carrying the world on your back, huh?”
Markus didn’t waste time. He slid a small velvet pouch across the table. Inside — twelve pressed flower petals, radiant even in the dim light.
“Looks like art,” Thomas said, examining them. “Feels like… something more.”
“They heal,” Markus said. “People, land, sickness. But they do more than that — they confuse the ones tracking her. If the wrong hands get her—”
Thomas interrupted, jaw tense. “You mean the girl?”
Markus nodded. “Her name is Dahlia. She’s real. She’s good. She’s in danger. The people looking for her want to cage her, use her, control her brother — a ten-year-old with powers of his own.”
Thomas sat back, gaze hardening. “And you want me to help spread a myth.”
Markus leaned in. “I want you to help protect the truth — by hiding it under noise. These petals can fool the scanners. Make people believe she’s somewhere she’s not. And at the same time, they actually help people. Real medicine. Real healing. She left behind light. Let’s make it blinding.”
Thomas stared at the pouch again, thumb pressing against the cloth.
“You saved my life in Fallujah,” he said quietly. “So I’ll trust you now.”
Ottawa – Thomas’s Inner Circle Gathering
In a private lodge near the capital, Thomas brought together his closest allies — environmental leaders, scientists, and two government advisors. Among them, Dr. Eileen Rourke, biochemist and health policy lead; Colonel Jean-Pierre Marchand, ex-military strategist; and Admiral Keira Song, head of disaster logistics.
He laid out the petals and Markus’s story. The reactions were immediate.
Dr. Rourke: “These flowers… they stabilize cell degeneration? This could be world-changing.”
Marchand: “If the government wants to own her, it means they know what she is. If we spread this cure… they lose that leverage.”
Admiral Song: “And what if they find out we’re involved?”
Thomas met their eyes. “Then let them come. But they won’t find her. They’ll only find rumors, recovery clinics, and a hundred people ready to say she was just here — and gone again.”
Meeting With the Canadian President – A Private Garden
Later that week, Thomas stood in a discreet greenhouse on Parliament Hill. President Annalise Monroe walked beside him, hands behind her back, a flower petal tucked in a sealed vial.
“She healed a burned child in the Amazon. Brought sight back to a grandmother in Uganda,” Monroe whispered. “This girl…”
“She’s more than her gift,” Thomas said gently. “And she’s not a threat. But the ones chasing her — they are.”
The President looked at the petal.
“Where is she now?”
Thomas’s smile was subtle. “Everywhere. And nowhere.”
She glanced toward the horizon. “You’ll have my silence. And my support — quietly. Canada will not aid those hunting her.”
Back in Red Ash – Markus’s Camp
Markus crouched near the fire, flanked by loyal townspeople now armed with stories, petals, and false trails. A young girl with a respiratory condition breathed easy again after inhaling the steam of Dahlia’s flower. Her mother wept, holding Markus’s hand.
Nearby, a hunter whispered to his dog, “She was real. I felt it. Her kindness stayed.”
Markus packed his things and stared into the fire.
“Keep her safe,” he whispered to the flames, then disappeared into the forest once more — chasing footsteps made of light and snow.
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 40. Continue reading Chapter 41 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.