Chapter 2

The garden should not exist.

That truth grows louder with every step the group takes between glowing stalks and coiled vines. The plants don’t behave as they should. Their stems twist gently as if breathing, and their blooms turn slowly to follow Angelica’s movements—not toward the light, but toward her. Or, more precisely, the onyx pendant resting just above her heart.

“We need to spread out,” she says, her voice calm but alert. “There’s something hidden here. Several somethings.”

Matt eyes a spiral-shaped blossom that seems to rotate slowly on its own. “Define something,” he mutters. “Because most of this already qualifies as a fever dream.”

Angelica ignores him and crouches beside a large, flat plant whose veins shimmer silver under the light. She runs her fingers gently along the edge of a crimson petal, watching it tremble in response—not from the breeze, but from her touch alone. Beneath its surface, she glimpses something etched into the stem—a faint, almost imperceptible marking.

“Bo,” she calls. “Bring the light.”

He’s beside her in a moment, his flashlight sweeping low. The beam strikes the stalk, and the mark becomes clear: a tiny glyph, no larger than a fingernail, carved into the plant itself.

Jenny gasps as she leans in. “That’s the same style as the ones on the clock.”

“No,” Angelica says quietly. “This one’s different. Older.”

Bo frowns. “You can’t date a carving on a flower.”

Angelica’s eyes narrow. “No. But I can feel it.”

The glyph pulses faintly beneath her hand, and a low vibration hums up her spine. The same frequency she felt by the Euphrates. The same energy from the equinox ruins. But here, it’s denser. Rooted.

Jenny wanders further in, following a line of glowing blue blooms that seem to curl toward her footsteps. “These aren’t normal plants,” she whispers. “I touched one, and it was… soft like velvet, but cold. Like moonlight.”

Bo shifts beside her, brushing aside a translucent vine. “Some of them are warm. This one…” He holds up a petal the color of molten gold. “It’s vibrating. And this—” he points to the center, “—it’s hollow. Like a shell.”

Matt lifts a flower shaped like a chalice and squints. “I swear this one smells like cinnamon. That can’t be right.”

Angelica moves deeper into the garden. The air grows heavier with every step, dense with the scent of sap and something almost sweetly metallic. As she rounds a towering plant with leaves like spun glass, she halts.

A thin shimmer winds through the undergrowth.

The red thread.

It appears for just a moment—glowing faintly, twisting lazily around the base of a cluster of tall flowers whose stalks curve inward like protective arms. But instead of stretching toward the horizon like it had in February, the thread spirals tightly around the base of the blooms, then loops upward along their stems.

“Here,” Angelica whispers.

The group gathers behind her.

The thread pulses, coiling around the largest bloom at the center. It spirals up the stalk, wraps around a glowing blue petal, and fades into the veins—disappearing entirely.

Jenny breathes, “It’s guarding something.”

Bo brushes his fingers near the flower’s base. “There’s something under here.”

He pulls aside the thick stems and vines. The soil is soft, warm—almost unnaturally so. He begins to dig.

Angelica kneels beside him, resting her hand against the flower as Bo clears the dirt. The moment her skin touches the stalk, the vibrations increase. Her onyx necklace flashes once—just a flicker of light—and a low hum begins to echo in the ground.

The others step back instinctively.

Then, Bo’s hand strikes something hard.

Stone.

He clears the final layer of soil and reveals a flat slab about the size of a large book. Intricate carvings cover its surface, arranged in a pattern that coils inward like a spiral of flame.

Angelica reaches out with both hands. The moment her fingers touch the stone, her breath catches in her throat.

The carving at the center is unmistakable.

The glyph of Aries—etched in ancient script, surrounded by celestial symbols and a line that seems to burn across the surface even in darkness.

“The first fire,” she murmurs.

Jenny kneels beside her. “That’s the Aries sign, isn’t it? The Ram?”

Angelica nods slowly. “It’s the beginning of the next trial.”

Bo straightens. “This was buried under a garden that shouldn’t exist. What does that mean?”

Angelica stares at the glyph, her fingers still pressed to the stone. “It means something—or someone—called this garden into being. It’s not natural. It’s not random.”

Matt’s voice is low behind her. “Then what is it?”

Angelica glances at the glowing onyx at her chest, then up at the canopy of unnatural blooms above her.

“It’s a myth,” she whispers. “Come to life.”

And somewhere beneath the soil, something begins to stir.

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 3

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