Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 56: Chapter 56
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Live Feed Transmission – Global Broadcast Room, Ottawa
“Replay that,” Prime Minister Annalise Monroe said, eyes locked on the screen.
The broadcast played again—Dahlia’s eyes fluttering open, her frightened whisper, “Who are you?” and her trembling embrace of Markus.
Thomas, her chief advisor and longtime confidant, looked pale. “She doesn’t remember. But she’s alive.”
“She’s alive,” Annalise echoed.
The room fell silent, except for the hum of screens and the soft clicking of a tech's keyboard.
“Do we issue a statement?” Thomas asked.
Annalise didn’t answer right away. She stared at the final freeze-frame of Dahlia’s face—lost, confused, glowing faintly. The image had already been clipped and shared across every network.
Finally, she said, “No. Not yet. The world is going to speak without us. Let’s listen first.”
Northern Amazon Basin – Maria’s Camp
The jungle canopy seemed quieter, reverent. Maria stood on a moss-covered platform, her laptop resting on an upturned crate. The signal was weak, but Eliot’s livestream had reached even here.
She replayed the footage three times.
“She woke,” she whispered. “My flower girl woke up.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
Beside her, Nakoa—the silent tracker who hadn’t spoken in days—let out a low exhale. “But she doesn’t know herself.”
Maria nodded. “That’s worse than death.”
“She remembered the boy,” Nakoa murmured.
“Markus. Why him?” Maria’s fingers tightened on the wooden crate. “Why not Amy? Or the brothers? Or her father?”
“Maybe the heart remembers before the mind,” Nakoa said.
Maria stood. “Then we bring the world back to her heart. Every song, every name, every healed wound.”
Southern Africa – Secret Refuge
Morris sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the wall of the stone refuge. Beside him, Camara clutched a battered tablet, buffering the livestream footage for the fifth time.
“She’s different,” Camara said, his voice trembling. “She doesn’t remember the family. But she’s still… her.”
“She remembered nothing. That means they used her up,” Morris snapped.
Camara looked up, startled.
Morris’s hands were shaking. “Four months of silence. Then she wakes as a child with no memory. That isn’t healing—it’s cost.”
Camara pressed the tablet to his chest. “But she’s alive.”
“For now. The world won’t let her stay peaceful.”
He stood, pacing. “We need to go dark. Again. If they track us through her—”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“She doesn’t know us, Camara. She doesn’t remember any of this.”
Camara whispered, “Then we remind her.”
Louis in Dakar, Senegal – Teaching Hospital
Cheers erupted in the teaching hospital. Someone had wheeled in a projector. Nurses, students, and old patients crowded the walls to see the girl who had healed so many.
“She’s awake!” a nurse shouted. “The Flower Child is back!”
Louis, standing in the back, felt pride surge through him.
“Professor!” a student called, “You knew her, right? You worked with her!”
Louis nodded, holding back tears. “and I taught her what I could. She taught me more.”
“But… she doesn’t remember?” another student asked, voice cautious. “Doesn’t that mean she’s… different now?”
Louis considered. “When a flower forgets how it bloomed, do we say it’s no longer beautiful? No. We water it. We wait. We trust the roots to remember.”
A student raised her hand. “What happens now? If the world sees she’s weak… won’t they try to control her again?”
Louis’s jaw tensed. “Then the world will meet resistance.”
Digital Space – Worldwide Chat Forums, Social Media, Encrypted Channels
@BloomSurvivor_88: SHE’S BACK. SHE’S BACK. SHE’S BACK.
@MiraWitchEyes: no memory... is that a side effect of what she did? what did she give up??
@FaithInPetals: I don’t care if she forgot us. I’d forget everything too if it meant saving people. She’s still Dahlia.
@KesslerWasRight: She’s dangerous. She wiped her own mind—what if she lashes out next time?
@AmyAndDahliaForever: She held Amy’s hand through the worst storms. She’ll remember. Love always does.
@TheRealTruthLeaks: why did she remember only one person? smells like programming or manipulation.
Private Chat – Rebel Network Fragment (Encrypted)
M1: She's awake. It changes the timeline.
N3: Good. Let them get comfortable. She’s a child now. A symbol. Symbols can still be broken.
M1: Or used.
United Nations Roundtable – Emergency Session
“Madam Chair, the situation with Dahlia Anderson must be reviewed immediately,” barked the delegate from the European Coalition.
“We are not here to dissect a young woman’s trauma,” countered the African Union chair. “She saved more lives than your treaties ever did.”
“She is unstable. You saw the vines. What happens if she lashes out?”
“She didn’t hurt anyone,” said the South American delegate. “Even in fear. That speaks volumes.”
Annalise’s screen flickered on. “Enough. This is not a tribunal. This is a turning point. She is not our weapon. She is not our liability. She is a person. And right now, she’s lost. What she needs is compassion.”
The room buzzed with silence.
Then someone muttered, “Compassion didn’t stop Kessler.”
Back on the Island – That Night
Dahlia stood quietly by a window, watching the moon reflect off the ocean. Vines gently swayed around her ankles.
She could feel the eyes of the world—even if she didn’t understand them.
Amy sang softly in the next room. A familiar tune. Dahlia didn’t recognize it—but her heart stirred.
And for a second…
She almost remembered.
“Replay that,” Prime Minister Annalise Monroe said, eyes locked on the screen.
The broadcast played again—Dahlia’s eyes fluttering open, her frightened whisper, “Who are you?” and her trembling embrace of Markus.
Thomas, her chief advisor and longtime confidant, looked pale. “She doesn’t remember. But she’s alive.”
“She’s alive,” Annalise echoed.
The room fell silent, except for the hum of screens and the soft clicking of a tech's keyboard.
“Do we issue a statement?” Thomas asked.
Annalise didn’t answer right away. She stared at the final freeze-frame of Dahlia’s face—lost, confused, glowing faintly. The image had already been clipped and shared across every network.
Finally, she said, “No. Not yet. The world is going to speak without us. Let’s listen first.”
Northern Amazon Basin – Maria’s Camp
The jungle canopy seemed quieter, reverent. Maria stood on a moss-covered platform, her laptop resting on an upturned crate. The signal was weak, but Eliot’s livestream had reached even here.
She replayed the footage three times.
“She woke,” she whispered. “My flower girl woke up.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
Beside her, Nakoa—the silent tracker who hadn’t spoken in days—let out a low exhale. “But she doesn’t know herself.”
Maria nodded. “That’s worse than death.”
“She remembered the boy,” Nakoa murmured.
“Markus. Why him?” Maria’s fingers tightened on the wooden crate. “Why not Amy? Or the brothers? Or her father?”
“Maybe the heart remembers before the mind,” Nakoa said.
Maria stood. “Then we bring the world back to her heart. Every song, every name, every healed wound.”
Southern Africa – Secret Refuge
Morris sat cross-legged on the floor, his back against the wall of the stone refuge. Beside him, Camara clutched a battered tablet, buffering the livestream footage for the fifth time.
“She’s different,” Camara said, his voice trembling. “She doesn’t remember the family. But she’s still… her.”
“She remembered nothing. That means they used her up,” Morris snapped.
Camara looked up, startled.
Morris’s hands were shaking. “Four months of silence. Then she wakes as a child with no memory. That isn’t healing—it’s cost.”
Camara pressed the tablet to his chest. “But she’s alive.”
“For now. The world won’t let her stay peaceful.”
He stood, pacing. “We need to go dark. Again. If they track us through her—”
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“She doesn’t know us, Camara. She doesn’t remember any of this.”
Camara whispered, “Then we remind her.”
Louis in Dakar, Senegal – Teaching Hospital
Cheers erupted in the teaching hospital. Someone had wheeled in a projector. Nurses, students, and old patients crowded the walls to see the girl who had healed so many.
“She’s awake!” a nurse shouted. “The Flower Child is back!”
Louis, standing in the back, felt pride surge through him.
“Professor!” a student called, “You knew her, right? You worked with her!”
Louis nodded, holding back tears. “and I taught her what I could. She taught me more.”
“But… she doesn’t remember?” another student asked, voice cautious. “Doesn’t that mean she’s… different now?”
Louis considered. “When a flower forgets how it bloomed, do we say it’s no longer beautiful? No. We water it. We wait. We trust the roots to remember.”
A student raised her hand. “What happens now? If the world sees she’s weak… won’t they try to control her again?”
Louis’s jaw tensed. “Then the world will meet resistance.”
Digital Space – Worldwide Chat Forums, Social Media, Encrypted Channels
@BloomSurvivor_88: SHE’S BACK. SHE’S BACK. SHE’S BACK.
@MiraWitchEyes: no memory... is that a side effect of what she did? what did she give up??
@FaithInPetals: I don’t care if she forgot us. I’d forget everything too if it meant saving people. She’s still Dahlia.
@KesslerWasRight: She’s dangerous. She wiped her own mind—what if she lashes out next time?
@AmyAndDahliaForever: She held Amy’s hand through the worst storms. She’ll remember. Love always does.
@TheRealTruthLeaks: why did she remember only one person? smells like programming or manipulation.
Private Chat – Rebel Network Fragment (Encrypted)
M1: She's awake. It changes the timeline.
N3: Good. Let them get comfortable. She’s a child now. A symbol. Symbols can still be broken.
M1: Or used.
United Nations Roundtable – Emergency Session
“Madam Chair, the situation with Dahlia Anderson must be reviewed immediately,” barked the delegate from the European Coalition.
“We are not here to dissect a young woman’s trauma,” countered the African Union chair. “She saved more lives than your treaties ever did.”
“She is unstable. You saw the vines. What happens if she lashes out?”
“She didn’t hurt anyone,” said the South American delegate. “Even in fear. That speaks volumes.”
Annalise’s screen flickered on. “Enough. This is not a tribunal. This is a turning point. She is not our weapon. She is not our liability. She is a person. And right now, she’s lost. What she needs is compassion.”
The room buzzed with silence.
Then someone muttered, “Compassion didn’t stop Kessler.”
Back on the Island – That Night
Dahlia stood quietly by a window, watching the moon reflect off the ocean. Vines gently swayed around her ankles.
She could feel the eyes of the world—even if she didn’t understand them.
Amy sang softly in the next room. A familiar tune. Dahlia didn’t recognize it—but her heart stirred.
And for a second…
She almost remembered.
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 56. Continue reading Chapter 57 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.