The greenhouse was quiet again, as if the strange encounter had never happened. But Eren couldn't shake the lingering warmth in his palm where Lyra's reflection had met his. The silence felt heavy now, not peaceful but waiting.
Talia paced the cracked stone floor, muttering under her breath. "Unbelievable. Talking flowers. Shimmering fruit. A girl trapped in glass. Eren, do you hear yourself? This isn't magic, it's madness."
"She said her name," Eren murmured, his gaze fixed on the silver fruit tree. "Lyra. That's not madness. That's… real."
Talia threw her hands up. "Yeah, because creepy ghost girls never lie."
Eren ignored her. He stepped closer to the tree again, reaching out. The orb he touched was cool, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat. "If you're still there… show me again."
For a moment, nothing happened. Just his own reflection, pale and desperate.
Then the glass rippled.
Talia swore under her breath and stumbled back. "Oh no. Not again."
Eren's reflection wavered and dissolved. Lyra's face emerged from the shimmer, clearer than before. Her curls floated around her like strands of ink in water, and her eyes glowed faintly silver in the dim greenhouse light.
"You came back," Eren whispered.
Lyra's lips curved faintly. "I said I would."
Talia stood behind him, arms crossed tight over her chest. "Great. You two can flirt through fruit. Meanwhile, I'll be over here, pretending this isn't happening."
Lyra tilted her head curiously. "Who is she?"
"My friend," Eren said quickly. "Talia. She can… kind of hear you. Sometimes."
"Not by choice," Talia muttered.
Lyra's expression softened. "Then she is braver than most. The garden doesn't usually allow two voices."
That made Talia straighten. "The garden allows? Like it's in charge? Because I did not sign up for a field trip into the stomach of a plant god."
Eren glanced at her. "Talia, please."
But Lyra was watching him. "You heard me clearly," she said. "That means the bond has started."
"Bond?" Eren echoed.
She nodded. "The first bloom chose you. It listens to your voice now. That is why we can speak."
Eren's mind spun. "So the seed… the flower I grew… that was the first bloom?"
"Yes." Lyra's gaze sharpened. "And there will be more. Each bloom will open another path. But you must be careful. The garden remembers every promise made within it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means words have roots here. They grow, whether you want them to or not."
Talia muttered, "Oh, wonderful. So if you say something dumb, we're doomed. Eren, you're definitely doomed."
Eren shot her a glare, then turned back. "Why are you trapped? How long have you been here?"
Lyra hesitated. Her hand pressed to the glass, fingers splayed. "Time doesn't pass the same between. I don't remember the beginning. Only that the vines closed around me… and I could not leave."
Her voice dropped lower. "I thought I'd never be seen again."
Eren's chest tightened. "But now I can see you."
Lyra's expression softened, fragile and hopeful. "Yes."
Talia groaned. "And now what? You want us to… rescue you? What if this is some horror-movie trick? Pretty reflection girl lures boy in, boy gets eaten by killer tomatoes."
Lyra tilted her head, puzzled. "What is a… tomato?"
Eren almost laughed, despite everything. "It doesn't matter. Look, Lyra, I want to help you. Just tell me what to do."
Her eyes searched his, as though weighing something unseen. Finally, she said, "The second bloom. You must find it. Only then will the bridge open further."
"The second bloom…" Eren repeated. "Where?"
"In the garden's heart," she whispered. "But the vines will test you. They do not yield their secrets easily."
Eren straightened. "Then I'll find it."
Talia's jaw dropped. "You'll what? Eren, did you miss the part where creepy vines 'test' you? That sounds like plant-speak for 'chew you up and spit you out.'"
"I don't care," Eren said firmly. "If there's a chance to free her, I have to try."
Lyra's gaze lingered on him, a strange mixture of sadness and admiration. "Be careful. Once you take the first step, you cannot turn back."
"I won't."
The orb shivered, cracks racing across its surface. Lyra's form flickered. She pressed her hand harder against the glass. "Eren—"
Her voice cut off as the orb shattered. Silver light exploded outward, blinding them both.
When Eren's vision cleared, the orb was sealed again, as if nothing had happened. Lyra was gone.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Talia spoke first, her voice shaky. "Congratulations. You just promised a ghost girl you'd march into the heart of a man-eating greenhouse. Fantastic."
Eren exhaled slowly, heart still racing. "She's not a ghost. She's real. And she's counting on me."
Talia pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why do I always get dragged into your disasters?"
He gave her a faint smile. "Because you're my best friend."
"Ugh," she groaned, turning away. "Don't you dare use friendship guilt on me."
But even as she grumbled, Eren saw her glance back at the tree, unease in her eyes.
He whispered to himself, testing the name again. "Lyra."
The air didn't answer. The fruit didn't glow. But deep down, Eren knew the garden had heard him.
And somewhere, beyond the glass, Lyra had too.