The streets of Sector Seven were unlike any they had walked before. Quiet. Too quiet. The air was thick with moisture, almost sweet, as if it had been untouched by the decay consuming the rest of the city. It unsettled them.
Elian slowed his pace.
"This doesn't feel right," he muttered.
Maren stayed close beside him. "It's like... something's watching us."
And yet, strangely, the silence brought not fear—but sorrow.
As they turned a corner, a shocking sight awaited them.
A garden.
An entire courtyard, blooming in vivid, almost unnatural color. Wildflowers stretched toward the cracked sky. Ivy climbed the walls. Water flowed from a broken fountain, its song clear and clean.
The group froze, caught between awe and disbelief.
"Is this real?" Sora whispered, stepping forward slowly.
She bent down to touch a pale blue petal. It didn't vanish. It didn't fade.
It was alive.
Jonah's jaw tightened. "This wasn't here in the satellite scans. It shouldn't exist."
"No," Elian agreed. "But it does. And something—someone—is keeping it alive."
---
As if summoned by their presence, a soft rustle came from the far end of the garden. They all turned, tense.
A woman stepped forward from the overgrowth. She looked ethereal—tall, slender, cloaked in silvery white robes stitched with green vines. Her eyes were a haunting violet, and her skin was porcelain pale.
"Welcome," she said, voice soft as falling leaves.
Elian took a cautious step forward. "Who are you?"
The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "My name is Caliera. And you are trespassing in the Garden of Echoes."
Maren's voice was firm. "We didn't mean to—"
"I know why you're here," Caliera interrupted gently. "You're not the first. You won't be the last."
Her tone wasn't threatening. It was sad. Deeply sad.
---
Elian narrowed his eyes. "What is this place?"
Caliera looked out at the garden, a faint wistfulness in her expression. "This used to be a haven. Before the war. Before the betrayal. The Resistance built it as a sanctuary. A place to remember what we were fighting for."
"And now?" Sora asked.
"Now... it is a graveyard."
The words hit like a cold slap.
"A graveyard?" Jonah repeated, stunned.
Caliera nodded. "Each flower you see bloomed from where someone fell. Their echoes live on in the soil. Their memories feed the earth."
Elian swallowed hard, suddenly seeing the beauty for what it truly was—mourning painted in color.
---
"You can stay here," Caliera offered. "Rest. Let go of the pain. No one will follow you here. No one will hurt you."
It was tempting. Too tempting.
The silence. The safety. The warmth.
But Elian could feel something tugging at his core. A voice—faint, persistent—urging him not to give in.
Maren looked torn. "It's beautiful... but is it real?"
"It's real," Caliera said. "But it is not life."
Jonah frowned. "So it's a prison in disguise."
Caliera didn't deny it.
"Then we can't stay," Elian said firmly.
Caliera studied him, then gave a sad smile. "Then you will have to walk through it. The center of the garden... holds the exit. But it will cost you."
As they followed the cobbled path into the heart of the garden, each of them began to hear faint voices.
Their own voices.
Regrets whispered on the wind.
Maren heard the sound of her sister's final breath, a moment she had long buried.
Sora was confronted with the words of her father, spoken in anger before she left home.
Jonah walked in silence, but tears slid down his cheeks, unseen.
And Elian—
Elian heard the voice of his mother, calling him back. Telling him he wasn't ready. That he had failed her. That he had failed everyone.
His steps faltered.
But then a hand slipped into his—warm and grounding.
Maren.
"We're still here," she said softly. "You don't have to carry it alone."
He nodded, tears threatening to fall. "I know. I just... I want to fix it all."
"Then we walk through this together."
The center of the garden was not a gate.
It was a tree.
Ancient and twisted, its bark gleamed like obsidian, and its leaves shimmered silver under the dim light.
Caliera was waiting beside it.
"You made it," she said. "But now comes the cost."
Elian looked at her. "What do you mean?"
Caliera reached out and gently touched Maren's shoulder. "One of you must leave a memory behind. Something precious. Something that defines you."
Maren tensed. "No. You said—"
"That you could pass," Caliera finished. "But everything has a price."
---
Elian looked at the others, then stepped forward.
"I'll do it," he said.
"No—" Maren tried to stop him, but he shook his head.
"It has to be me."
He placed his palm against the tree. There was a pulse—like a heartbeat. And then a flicker of light surged through him.
He remembered—
The last day with his younger brother. Playing in the field behind their house. Laughing. Promising they'd always be together.
The tree took it.
And just like that, the memory was gone.
Elian staggered, gasping, as if a piece of his soul had been cut away.
The bark split open, revealing a dark passage.
Caliera nodded solemnly. "You may go."
---
As they stepped through, the garden behind them began to shimmer and blur, as though it were being erased.
Caliera gave one final look at them. "May your echoes become stars, not flowers."
And then she was gone.
---
They emerged into another part of the city. Grey. Broken. Familiar.
But something had changed.
Elian looked at the others, and though pain still clung to them, so did purpose.
They were alive.
And they would fight for those who weren't.
---