The flower that spoke had gone still, its silver-streaked petals closing again like lips pressed shut. The faint echo of his grandmother's voice lingered in Eren's ears, so sharp it made his chest ache.
Talia tugged on his sleeve, her face pale. "Eren, please. Let's get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps. I'm all for weird plants, but ghost-flowers saying your name? That's where I draw the line."
But Eren pulled his arm free. His eyes stayed fixed on the strange fruit tree. "Didn't you hear? She said I found it. That means… she wanted me to be here."
"That means you're hearing what you want to hear," Talia shot back. She crossed her arms, but her voice trembled. "Look, your grandma told great stories. Magical doors, hidden worlds, all that. But they were stories, Eren. Fairy tales to keep us entertained when the power went out. Not… this."
Her words stung, but Eren barely heard them. The tree's silver fruits had begun to ripple faintly, as though something beneath their skin stirred. One in particular gleamed brighter than the rest.
Drawn by something he couldn't name, Eren stepped closer. His reflection warped across the fruit's surface. He leaned in—then froze.
It wasn't his reflection at all.
A girl stood inside the orb's glow. She had hair that tumbled past her shoulders in untamed curls, catching faint threads of silver light. Her eyes—wide, unblinking, strangely luminous—met his as though there were no glass between them. Her lips parted in surprise, mirroring his own.
Eren's breath hitched. His throat went dry. "It's you…"
The girl's expression softened. She lifted a hand and pressed her palm against the inside of the glowing fruit.
Almost without thinking, Eren raised his own hand. The cool surface of the orb buzzed under his skin. For a heartbeat, it felt like their palms touched through the barrier.
A jolt of warmth shot up his arm.
"Eren!" Talia's voice cracked like a whip. "What are you doing?!"
He flinched and looked at her. "Do you see her?"
"See who?"
"The girl! Right there!" He jabbed a finger at the orb, his voice shaking.
Talia frowned and stepped forward, peering at the fruit. "All I see is you. A pale, panicked you, making me regret every decision that led me here."
"No—no, she's real. She's right there!" He turned back desperately, but the girl was gone. Only his own warped reflection stared back at him.
Talia reached for him again, her tone softening. "Eren… you're scaring me. I know you miss her, but reflections don't come to life. Maybe you're tired, or imagining—"
The words died in her throat as the vines above them shuddered violently. Leaves rustled like dozens of voices whispering at once. One of the fruits split down its middle with a sharp crack.
Silver liquid spilled from the seam, glowing as it pooled on the greenhouse floor. The air itself seemed to ripple.
And from the broken orb, a shimmer of liquid glass spread outward. A figure took shape within it.
The girl again.
She was clearer this time, her features sharpened by the glow. She looked about Eren's age, her gaze piercing, curious—and startlingly alive. When she spoke, her voice carried faintly, as though traveling through water.
"You can hear me…"
Eren stumbled back, heart hammering so hard it hurt. "Talia! Did you hear that?!"
For a moment, Talia just stared, frozen. Then she whispered, "I… I heard something. Not clear, but—something."
The girl's eyes flicked between them, lingering on Eren. "Finally," she breathed. "Someone who can see me."
Eren's voice wavered. "Who are you?"
Her answer floated across the air, soft but steady. "Lyra."
The name hung there, sinking deep into Eren's mind like a seed finding soil.
"Where are you?" he asked, stepping closer to the glowing orb.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile, though it carried sadness. "Here. And not here. Between."
Talia finally found her voice. "Okay, no. Nope. I don't like this. Not one bit. Talking plants are bad enough, but now we've got… mirror girls? Eren, we're leaving."
But Eren ignored her. He couldn't look away from Lyra. "Why can I see you?"
Lyra's gaze softened. "Because you listened. Most don't. Most only look at their own reflection. But you saw past yourself."
Eren swallowed hard. "You… you were in the fruit?"
Her expression tightened, almost pained. "Trapped. This place is a door. A bridge. But a bridge that locks both sides."
"Locked?"
"I can see your world, but I can't step through. Not yet."
Her words sent a thrill through Eren. Not yet. That meant it was possible. "Then how do I help you?"
Lyra hesitated. Her eyes flicked toward Talia, then back to him. "Not now. The vines listen. The garden remembers. It's not safe to speak too long."
Eren leaned forward urgently. "But—"
"Soon," she whispered. "Find the second bloom. It will guide you."
The orb shuddered. Cracks spread across its surface like veins of light. With a sharp snap, the vision shattered. Lyra's form dissolved into liquid silver, splashing harmlessly to the floor.
Silence fell again.
Eren stared at the dripping sap, chest heaving. "She's real. She's real."
Talia grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. "Eren, did you not hear the creepy ghost girl telling you about locked bridges and vines that listen? That's not the good kind of real. That's the nightmare kind of real."
"She needs help," he said firmly. "She's stuck. And Grandma… Grandma wanted me to find this place. Maybe this is why."
Talia groaned, throwing her hands up. "Of course. You get one ghostly chat and suddenly you're the chosen hero. Classic."
He looked at her with an intensity that startled even himself. "Talia, this is bigger than us. Bigger than everything. I can't just walk away."
Her glare faltered. She looked at the glowing sap pooling at their feet, then back at him. "You're serious."
He nodded.
Talia muttered, "Unbelievable. I promised your grandma I'd look out for you, not follow you into Narnia's swampy cousin."
But beneath her sarcasm was fear. And Eren knew it.
He glanced once more at the sealed orb, the vines curling tighter around it like guards protecting a secret. Then he whispered the name that still echoed in his chest.
"Lyra."