Dahlia and the Garden of Light - Chapter 88: Chapter 88
You are reading Dahlia and the Garden of Light, Chapter 88: Chapter 88. Read more chapters of Dahlia and the Garden of Light.
After weeks of planning tracking roots and connecting contacts it's finally time to set out.
The morning smelled like wet grass and promise. The sky above the Anderson estate was soft with early light, petals fluttering gently in the breeze that slipped between the tall cedars and flowering plum trees. Derek stood near the gate with his backpack slung over one shoulder, and Leo—barefoot, twitching his shoulders beneath a tan cotton hoodie—stood beside him, tailing his fingers along the wrought-iron fence.
Christian was the first to reach them.
“Try not to start any revolutions without telling us first,” he said, handing Derek a pouch of field-grade antiseptic herbs. “You’re not invincible. And that goes double for your feline shadow.”
Leo blinked. “I’m not a shadow.”
Christian smirked. “Then don’t sneak onto the rafters again. That was... unsettling.”
Markus approached next, quieter. He handed Derek a small folding knife and Leo a map hand-drawn on parchment, (because paper smells funny) covered in soft symbols and notations. “These are the known flower sites from Eliot and Dahlia’s expansion efforts. If you ever need sanctuary… let the petals guide you.”
Leo opened the map with reverence, tracing one clawed fingertip over the mountain site near Nepal. “You drew all this?”
“With Eliot,” Markus nodded. “We’ve been listening. Watching where they grow strongest.”
Eliot jogged up last, tucking a tiny flower-shaped chip into Leo’s satchel. “Tracker—secure, encrypted. Only we can see your position. Just in case.”
Dahlia was the last to arrive, brushing dew from her gown as she stepped barefoot over the moss-lined stones. “I made you both something.”
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out two soft white flowers—like tiny stars with golden centers—and pressed them into their palms.
“They’ll only bloom when you’re safe,” she said. “When your hearts are clear.”
Leo stared at the flower, then up at her. “You smell like peace.”
Dahlia grinned. “You smell like wet fur and mangoes.”
Everyone laughed. Even Leo.
Then the silence came—gentle and heavy.
Derek turned, pulling Leo and Dahlia into a brief hug. “We’ll be back. I promise.”
Dahlia nodded, tears bright in her lashes. “We’ll keep the forest blooming for you.”
Markus raised two fingers in a silent salute.
Christian just muttered, “Don’t die,” and turned back toward the house.
Eliot waved long and slow. “We’ll be watching the satellites.”
And then Derek and Leo were walking down the path, through the garden gate, and out into the world again
The morning smelled like wet grass and promise. The sky above the Anderson estate was soft with early light, petals fluttering gently in the breeze that slipped between the tall cedars and flowering plum trees. Derek stood near the gate with his backpack slung over one shoulder, and Leo—barefoot, twitching his shoulders beneath a tan cotton hoodie—stood beside him, tailing his fingers along the wrought-iron fence.
Christian was the first to reach them.
“Try not to start any revolutions without telling us first,” he said, handing Derek a pouch of field-grade antiseptic herbs. “You’re not invincible. And that goes double for your feline shadow.”
Leo blinked. “I’m not a shadow.”
Christian smirked. “Then don’t sneak onto the rafters again. That was... unsettling.”
Markus approached next, quieter. He handed Derek a small folding knife and Leo a map hand-drawn on parchment, (because paper smells funny) covered in soft symbols and notations. “These are the known flower sites from Eliot and Dahlia’s expansion efforts. If you ever need sanctuary… let the petals guide you.”
Leo opened the map with reverence, tracing one clawed fingertip over the mountain site near Nepal. “You drew all this?”
“With Eliot,” Markus nodded. “We’ve been listening. Watching where they grow strongest.”
Eliot jogged up last, tucking a tiny flower-shaped chip into Leo’s satchel. “Tracker—secure, encrypted. Only we can see your position. Just in case.”
Dahlia was the last to arrive, brushing dew from her gown as she stepped barefoot over the moss-lined stones. “I made you both something.”
She reached into her sleeve and pulled out two soft white flowers—like tiny stars with golden centers—and pressed them into their palms.
“They’ll only bloom when you’re safe,” she said. “When your hearts are clear.”
Leo stared at the flower, then up at her. “You smell like peace.”
Dahlia grinned. “You smell like wet fur and mangoes.”
Everyone laughed. Even Leo.
Then the silence came—gentle and heavy.
Derek turned, pulling Leo and Dahlia into a brief hug. “We’ll be back. I promise.”
Dahlia nodded, tears bright in her lashes. “We’ll keep the forest blooming for you.”
Markus raised two fingers in a silent salute.
Christian just muttered, “Don’t die,” and turned back toward the house.
Eliot waved long and slow. “We’ll be watching the satellites.”
And then Derek and Leo were walking down the path, through the garden gate, and out into the world again
End of Dahlia and the Garden of Light Chapter 88. Continue reading Chapter 89 or return to Dahlia and the Garden of Light book page.