The old path behind his grandmother's cottage had always felt too quiet. Trees leaned in like gossiping villagers, branches scratching each other when the wind ran through them. Eren Vale shoved his hands into his pockets, crunching dead leaves under his shoes.
He muttered, half to himself, half to the woods, "Guess I'll see what you were hiding, Grandma."
"Talking to trees again?"
Eren turned sharply. Talia was perched on the fence post, kicking her legs like she owned the whole countryside. Her dark braid swung with every kick, and her grin had that infuriating I caught you look.
He sighed. "Don't sneak up on people like that."
"I didn't sneak. You're just jumpy." She hopped down, landing beside him. "So… what are we doing here? Another ghost hunt? Or is this one of those 'my grandma left me a treasure chest of secrets' kind of deals?"
Eren rolled his eyes. "Neither. There's an old greenhouse back here. She never let me go near it. Said it was dangerous."
Talia smirked. "Dangerous like… haunted tomatoes?"
"More like… broken glass and rusty nails." He tried to sound serious, but his curiosity had been gnawing at him since the funeral last month. His grandmother Mira had loved stories — about magical doors, hidden gardens, places where worlds touched. And yet she kept this one place locked up tight.
Talia studied his face. "You miss her."
Eren didn't answer right away. He just nodded and kept walking.
The path narrowed, brambles catching at their sleeves. Finally, they reached it: a greenhouse slouched against the hillside, glass panels streaked with grime, ivy strangling the frame. The padlock on the front door hung broken, rust eaten straight through.
Talia whistled. "Well, it sure looks dangerous. Bet the inside's full of spiders big enough to wrestle."
"Charming thought," Eren muttered. He brushed dust off the lock, noticing how easily it crumbled under his fingers.
Talia crossed her arms. "You're going in, aren't you?"
He shrugged. "She kept it locked for a reason. Don't you want to know why?"
"Curiosity killed the cat," she warned.
"And satisfaction brought it back," he shot back automatically.
Her grin widened. "Fine. But if a man-eating fern swallows you whole, I'm telling your mom you dragged me here."
Eren laughed nervously. He tugged the heavy door. It groaned like something waking from sleep, then opened just wide enough for him to squeeze inside.
Warm air rushed out, heavy with the smell of damp soil and something sweet, almost metallic.
"Ew," Talia coughed from outside. "Smells like moldy perfume."
Eren ignored her. The inside was… alive. More alive than any garden he'd seen.
Twisting vines with leaves shaped like stars crawled over cracked benches. Flowers glowed faintly blue and green, as if someone had painted fireflies onto the petals. In the far corner, a tree no taller than him bore silver fruit, their skins reflecting light like mirrors.
He whispered, "What… is this place?"
Talia's voice echoed from the doorway. "Well? What do you see?"
Eren hesitated. "Plants."
"Plants?" she repeated flatly. "All that suspense, and it's just plants?"
"Not just plants," he said sharply. "They're… different. They look like something out of her stories."
Talia wrinkled her nose. "Or like something that's gonna give you a rash." She leaned inside but didn't cross the threshold. "Creepy."
Eren stepped closer to a glowing flower. Its petals trembled when he reached out. He pulled back his hand, heart thumping.
Talia groaned. "Go on, touch it already. What's the worst that could happen?"
"Famous last words," he muttered.
Still, he crouched, stretching his hand toward the bloom. Just before his fingers brushed the petal, a strange humming filled the greenhouse, soft but steady, like a distant choir.
Eren froze.
"Uh… did you hear that?" he whispered.
Talia tilted her head. "Hear what?"
"The humming."
She squinted at him. "You sure you're not the one humming?"
But Eren couldn't reply. His reflection stared back at him from the silver fruit — except it wasn't quite his reflection. The boy in the fruit's skin was standing in a brighter room, colors too sharp, shadows bending wrong. And behind him, in that other reflection, he thought he saw movement. A figure.
He staggered back, breath catching.
"What is it?" Talia asked, stepping in now despite her nerves.
"I… I think I saw someone," he whispered.
She raised an eyebrow. "In the reflection?"
"Yeah. In… another world."
Talia rolled her eyes. "You and your grandma's stories." But her voice shook just a little. "Don't scare me like that."
Eren didn't argue. He kept staring at the fruit, at the faint outline of a figure moving in the reflection — a girl.
And for the first time in weeks, the weight of his grief shifted into something else. Not relief. Not joy.
Something closer to wonder.