Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Book: Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 43 2025-10-07

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Two years. Ten countries. Dozens of names. Hundreds of miles.
Dahlia didn’t remember the last time she slept in the same bed for more than three nights in a row—until now.
After fleeing from Pine Hollow, they vanished into the world like wind scattering dandelion seeds. Left behind were codes, false trails, and a garden of silence. But not the truth—never the truth: that Dahlia was a healer, Derek could speak without words to beasts, and Mira had been trained by ghosts and governments both.
Their Path Across the World – With Echoes of the People They Met
Namibia
The desert was red like blood on fire. They met Ayo, a weathered tracker with eyes the color of dry leaves. He gave them shelter in a sandstone hut. Derek healed a lizard with a broken leg, and Ayo stared at him for a long time.
“You’re soft,” he said to Derek, “but the world needs soft things. Like rain.”
That night, Dahlia healed a jackal that wouldn’t stop howling in pain. It bonded with Derek instantly and never stopped following him until they left the country.
Greenland
They posed as a climate research team. In a tiny coastal village, they met Dr. Liv Haldorsen, who fed them whale stew and never asked too many questions.
“I know what it looks like when people are running,” Liv had said. “Just… leave quietly.”
Dahlia cried when the aurora lit the sky with green fire. Mira had stood back, watching her with something unreadable in her expression.
Nepal
Mira knew the monks at the Lungta Monastery. Tenzin, the blind abbot, greeted her as “ghost-child” and hugged Derek as if he were a long-lost grandson.
“Some gifts live in silence,” Tenzin told Derek. “Yours sings. Protect it.”
They left before the snow thawed. Tenzin pressed a prayer bead into Dahlia’s palm—made from petrified wood. “You carry spring in your bones. Let it rest, sometimes.”
Brazil (Amazon)
Rain was born here—a jaguar cub with a thorn in its paw. Derek called it “Flicker” until Dahlia renamed it Rain after a healing she performed that brought actual rainfall.
They stayed with a remote tribe for ten days. A girl named Isa taught Derek how to fish and Dahlia how to braid vines into traps.
Mira slept with one eye open. Always.
Turkey (Cappadocia)
They hid among ancient caves carved into the mountainside. Halim, a stone carver, let them sleep in the old monks’ quarters.
Dahlia would hum sometimes, and wildflowers would grow from cracks in the stone. Halim never spoke of it, but carved a new doorway shaped like a blooming petal before they left.
Australia (Outback)
The flower hummed like a tuning fork. Mira made them bury it miles from the small outpost. They lived in a wind-battered cabin with a reclusive botanist named Jodie, who never asked about the glowing roots in Dahlia’s pockets.
“She’s not just healing,” Jodie muttered once, watching Dahlia tend a wilting eucalyptus. “She’s remembering something older than us.”
Finland
A single song in the forest, and blue flowers burst through the snow like stars. A man in a fur-lined coat saw it. Mira grabbed their things. They were gone within the hour.
Tanzania
The elephants wouldn’t leave. Derek’s voice wasn’t louder, just gentler. A local elder, Mama Halima, watched with narrowed eyes.
“You are not a threat,” she said, touching his face. “But those who fear peace will make you one.”
Bhutan
The quiet was sacred here. Lhamo, a weaver, let them stay in a guesthouse overlooking the mist-filled valley. She showed Dahlia how to boil herbs for dreamless sleep.
Derek, sitting beside prayer flags one morning, said, “I don’t think I want to keep running anymore.”
South Korea
A woman at a train station stared too long. Dahlia had hummed under her breath while comforting a crying toddler.
“Her flowers glow,” the woman whispered into her phone.
They were gone before the sun set. Rain swam beside their freight boat as they crossed east.
Present Day: The Island Near Japan – Emberlight
The island had no name. It had wind, cliffs, and silence thick enough to taste.
The old research station was half-swallowed by moss and time. They cleaned it slowly—room by room—until it resembled something like a home. Derek named it Emberlight, after a flower Dahlia dreamed the first night they slept under its rotting beams: gold petals, ember-red core.

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