Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 75: Chapter 75
You are reading Dahlia and the Garden of Light, Chapter 75: Chapter 75. Read more chapters of Dahlia and the Garden of Light.
Spring Equinox – Wedding Day, March 21st
The Forest Clearing – Nightfall
From where Jack stood beneath the arch of woven vines and moonflowers, the forest shimmered in ways that felt more like a dream than reality.
The clearing had transformed.
Silver lanterns, each glowing with soft, amber light, hung between the trees like stars that had descended just for the night. Moss lined the aisle in deep velvet greens, gently lit by Orchid’s quiet presence—her small hands clutching Marshmallow the rabbit somewhere near the flower path’s edge.
The trees leaned in, but gently, their branches dressed in ribbons, crystal droplets, and petals that shifted color with every breath of wind. Ferns sparkled faintly with dew and golden pollen. The altar had been shaped from old oak, with Dahlia’s vines grown and sculpted into an arch that looked like it had always belonged here — a cathedral of wild things.
Jack exhaled slowly, eyes blinking against the ache behind them.
“She’s not even here yet and you’re already crying,” Christian teased softly, clapping him on the back.
“Shut up, I’m overwhelmed.”
Christian laughed. “Good.”
—
Along the Path – The Guests Gather
Guests filled the wooden benches that curved in a soft crescent, each one carved and moss-cushioned. Some whispered, others stared wide-eyed as Derek’s soft army of forest creatures emerged one by one.
A ring of squirrels with ivy garlands carried blossoms and gently tossed them toward the aisle. Tiny birds—finches, robins, even a cardinal—carried glowing lanterns of pale firelight, suspended by threads of bark and string, and flew in formation overhead.
“What is this place?” a guest whispered.
“I heard the bride's friends can speak to the forest.”
“No, no—one of them heals people with flowers.”
“Those aren’t special effects,” someone murmured. “That’s real moss glowing. Look!”
And indeed, as Amy’s name was softly spoken, the moss beneath the aisle path brightened — only slightly, like it recognized the weight of each step she would take.
Eliot, seated near the edge, leaned over to Theo and whispered, “This is what magic looks like when it’s loved.”
Theo nodded. “And when it’s protected.”
—
The Bridesmaids’ Walk
First came Dahlia, in a flowing sage-green dress that caught the moonlight like dappled water. She smiled, holding a single sunflower and letting her fingers trail the moss, which rippled lightly behind her like water disturbed by a gentle hand.
Amy’s other close friends followed, each in shades of the forest — soft browns, golds, greens — trailing soft floral perfumes and sunlight woven into fabric.
As they passed, Dahlia quietly coaxed blooms to rise and open from the grass, creating a carpet of flowers behind them that seemed to chase their steps.
—
Jack at the Altar
Jack shifted slightly, his thumb brushing the edge of the vow card tucked into his pocket.
“She’s coming,” Eliot whispered, grinning from the row behind the altar.
The music shifted — no orchestra, but something deeper. A hum that came from the forest itself: crickets, wind through the trees, the faint rustle of leaves. Dahlia had said it was how the woods sang when they were happy.
And then—
Amy.
—
Amy and Her Father – The Aisle
She appeared at the edge of the clearing in a gown of soft white silk and petals, like the sky had spun her from cloud and sunlight. Her veil shimmering, her bouquet alive with subtle pulsing light — Dahlia’s work again, quiet magic nestled within camellia and honeysuckle.
Orchid stood near the front, whispering in awe, “She looks like the moon is in love with her.”
Her father — formal, stiff at first — loosened as they walked, his hand over hers. His voice, just above a whisper:
“You’ve always walked your own path, Amy. And now you’ve made a garden out of it.”
Amy blinked, her eyes misty.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Behind them Elise, walking gracefully but with wide, awestruck eyes. Her fingers curled around Amy’s veil, which trailed behind in sheer waves embroidered with tiny white blossoms that shimmered faintly under the enchanted lighting.
Jack took one step forward as she approached. Elise laid the veil in place, nodded once to her sister, and stepped aside.
Amy and Jack’s eyes met.
For a moment, all the whispers, all the flickering lanterns, all the rustling of magic and memory—fell away.
—
Among the Guests – Whispered Reactions
“I’ve never seen anything like this…”
“I thought weddings were just food and toasts. This… this is sacred.”
“That’s Amy Smith?” a distant cousin asked. “She always disappeared at family parties.”
“She’s not disappearing now.”
—
At the Altar
The priest — a kind-eyed woman in silver robes, known to both families as an old friend of William’s — raised her hands.
“Tonight,” she said, “beneath the first spring moon, among the roots and branches that have watched your love grow, we bear witness to a new beginning. Not just of a marriage, but of a truth chosen — and tended — like a garden.”
Amy looked at Jack. Jack couldn’t speak yet.
Dahlia, standing behind her, gave the smallest nod of encouragement.
“You found each other,” the priest said. “Now, will you walk forward together — always?”
They both nodded.
Hand in hand, they turned toward the light rising slowly through the trees.
The Forest Clearing – Nightfall
From where Jack stood beneath the arch of woven vines and moonflowers, the forest shimmered in ways that felt more like a dream than reality.
The clearing had transformed.
Silver lanterns, each glowing with soft, amber light, hung between the trees like stars that had descended just for the night. Moss lined the aisle in deep velvet greens, gently lit by Orchid’s quiet presence—her small hands clutching Marshmallow the rabbit somewhere near the flower path’s edge.
The trees leaned in, but gently, their branches dressed in ribbons, crystal droplets, and petals that shifted color with every breath of wind. Ferns sparkled faintly with dew and golden pollen. The altar had been shaped from old oak, with Dahlia’s vines grown and sculpted into an arch that looked like it had always belonged here — a cathedral of wild things.
Jack exhaled slowly, eyes blinking against the ache behind them.
“She’s not even here yet and you’re already crying,” Christian teased softly, clapping him on the back.
“Shut up, I’m overwhelmed.”
Christian laughed. “Good.”
—
Along the Path – The Guests Gather
Guests filled the wooden benches that curved in a soft crescent, each one carved and moss-cushioned. Some whispered, others stared wide-eyed as Derek’s soft army of forest creatures emerged one by one.
A ring of squirrels with ivy garlands carried blossoms and gently tossed them toward the aisle. Tiny birds—finches, robins, even a cardinal—carried glowing lanterns of pale firelight, suspended by threads of bark and string, and flew in formation overhead.
“What is this place?” a guest whispered.
“I heard the bride's friends can speak to the forest.”
“No, no—one of them heals people with flowers.”
“Those aren’t special effects,” someone murmured. “That’s real moss glowing. Look!”
And indeed, as Amy’s name was softly spoken, the moss beneath the aisle path brightened — only slightly, like it recognized the weight of each step she would take.
Eliot, seated near the edge, leaned over to Theo and whispered, “This is what magic looks like when it’s loved.”
Theo nodded. “And when it’s protected.”
—
The Bridesmaids’ Walk
First came Dahlia, in a flowing sage-green dress that caught the moonlight like dappled water. She smiled, holding a single sunflower and letting her fingers trail the moss, which rippled lightly behind her like water disturbed by a gentle hand.
Amy’s other close friends followed, each in shades of the forest — soft browns, golds, greens — trailing soft floral perfumes and sunlight woven into fabric.
As they passed, Dahlia quietly coaxed blooms to rise and open from the grass, creating a carpet of flowers behind them that seemed to chase their steps.
—
Jack at the Altar
Jack shifted slightly, his thumb brushing the edge of the vow card tucked into his pocket.
“She’s coming,” Eliot whispered, grinning from the row behind the altar.
The music shifted — no orchestra, but something deeper. A hum that came from the forest itself: crickets, wind through the trees, the faint rustle of leaves. Dahlia had said it was how the woods sang when they were happy.
And then—
Amy.
—
Amy and Her Father – The Aisle
She appeared at the edge of the clearing in a gown of soft white silk and petals, like the sky had spun her from cloud and sunlight. Her veil shimmering, her bouquet alive with subtle pulsing light — Dahlia’s work again, quiet magic nestled within camellia and honeysuckle.
Orchid stood near the front, whispering in awe, “She looks like the moon is in love with her.”
Her father — formal, stiff at first — loosened as they walked, his hand over hers. His voice, just above a whisper:
“You’ve always walked your own path, Amy. And now you’ve made a garden out of it.”
Amy blinked, her eyes misty.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Behind them Elise, walking gracefully but with wide, awestruck eyes. Her fingers curled around Amy’s veil, which trailed behind in sheer waves embroidered with tiny white blossoms that shimmered faintly under the enchanted lighting.
Jack took one step forward as she approached. Elise laid the veil in place, nodded once to her sister, and stepped aside.
Amy and Jack’s eyes met.
For a moment, all the whispers, all the flickering lanterns, all the rustling of magic and memory—fell away.
—
Among the Guests – Whispered Reactions
“I’ve never seen anything like this…”
“I thought weddings were just food and toasts. This… this is sacred.”
“That’s Amy Smith?” a distant cousin asked. “She always disappeared at family parties.”
“She’s not disappearing now.”
—
At the Altar
The priest — a kind-eyed woman in silver robes, known to both families as an old friend of William’s — raised her hands.
“Tonight,” she said, “beneath the first spring moon, among the roots and branches that have watched your love grow, we bear witness to a new beginning. Not just of a marriage, but of a truth chosen — and tended — like a garden.”
Amy looked at Jack. Jack couldn’t speak yet.
Dahlia, standing behind her, gave the smallest nod of encouragement.
“You found each other,” the priest said. “Now, will you walk forward together — always?”
They both nodded.
Hand in hand, they turned toward the light rising slowly through the trees.
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 75. Continue reading Chapter 76 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.