Chapter 25: The Star’s Hollow Heart

The Comet's Breath

The comet painted the sky in hues of emerald and obsidian, its tail scorching the clouds as it hurtled toward the estate. Lyra stood on the terrace, her scar pulsing in time with the celestial fire. Below, the gardens writhed—roses snapped at the air, roots clawed through soil, and the once-vibrant peonies oozed black sap.

"It's herding us," Evangeline signed, her hands sharp with urgency. "The comet isn't a threat. It's a beacon."

Jack gripped the balustrade, his knuckles white. "For what?"

Lyra's scar flared. "For them."

In the distance, the woods groaned. Trees bent like supplicants, their branches forming a corridor toward the horizon. Toward the dead star.

The Girl Without a Name

Evangeline found her in the cellar, crouched beside the Rosa Noctis. The girl mirrored Lyra's stance—knees drawn to her chest, storm-gray eyes fixed on the pulsating bloom—but her scar was different. Brighter. Hungrier.

"Who are you?" Evangeline demanded, dagger loose in her grip.

The girl turned, her fingers brushing the rose's stem. The thorns recoiled. "I am what grows in the cracks," she signed, her motions fluid, ancient. "A shadow. A seed."

Lyra descended the stairs, drawn by the garden's whisper. "She's like me. But… older."

The girl stood, her scar rippling gold. "Older. Wiser. Weary."

Jack's breath hitched. "You're a vessel. From before Seraphine."

The girl's smile was a sickle. "I am the First Gardener's regret."

The Road of Bones

They left at midnight, the comet's light guiding their path. The girl walked ahead, her bare feet leaving blooms of withered grass. Evangeline watched her, torn between suspicion and pity.

"She's a liability," she muttered to Jack.

"Or our only chance," he replied, eyes on Lyra, who lingered at the girl's side, signing questions only they could see.

The woods gave way to a wasteland of jagged stone and skeletal trees. The air reeked of ozone and rot. Alaric's journal had called this place the Road of Bones—a path tread only by those the garden wished to claim.

The girl paused, her scar brightening. "They're here."

Thorned creatures erupted from the ground, their bodies woven from roots and shattered glass. The girl raised her hand.

"Enough."

The creatures froze, then crumbled to dust.

The Eclipse Gate

At the wasteland's edge stood a gate of petrified wood, its archway carved with roses eclipsing suns. Beyond it, the dead star loomed—a colossal, crystalline spire jutting from the earth, its surface cracked and bleeding starlight.

Lyra's scar burned. "This is where it began. Where the First Gardener split the sky."

The girl placed her palm on the gate. "And where it will end."

The ground quaked. The gate split, revealing a staircase spiraling into darkness.

Evangeline eyed the girl. "You've done this before."

"Many times. Many gardens. All burned."

Jack stepped forward. "Why help us?"

The girl's gaze fell on Lyra. "Because she is the first to choose."

The Hollow Heart

The dead star's core was a cavern of light and shadow. Starlight dripped from the ceiling, pooling in a basin at the center. Above it floated the Eclipse Rose—no longer void-black, but blinding white, its roots spearing the basin like veins.

"The First Gardener's creation," the girl signed, her face grim. "A rose meant to heal worlds. But it hungered."

Lyra approached the basin. The scar on her arm unraveled, tendrils of gold stretching toward the light. "It's alive."

"And it knows you," the girl warned.

The Eclipse Rose shuddered. A voice, vast and ancient, shook the chamber.

"FINALLY. A VESSEL WORTHY OF THE CROWN."

The Crown of Thorns

The light coalesced into a figure—a woman with Lyra's eyes and Seraphine's smile, her body woven from starlight and thorns. She extended a hand, a crown of shattered glass hovering above her palm.

"Take it," the First Gardener crooned. "Rule the gardens. Devour the stars."

Lyra's scar surged, gold veins consuming her arm. "No."

"You cannot deny your blood. You are mine."

The girl stepped forward, her scar blazing. "She is hers."

The First Gardener laughed. "You, broken thing? You failed. As all vessels fail."

The girl seized Lyra's hand. "But she is not a vessel. She is a storm."

Together, their scars erupted.

The Fracture

Gold and white light collided, tearing the chamber apart. The Eclipse Rose screamed, its roots withering. The basin cracked, starlight bleeding into the void.

The First Gardener's form fissured. "You… cannot… destroy… me…"

Lyra's voice echoed, raw and resonant. "I don't have to. I'll starve you."

She plunged her scarred hand into the basin. The light dimmed. The rose died.

The Cost of Dawn

They emerged at dawn. The comet had shattered in the sky, its fragments raining like dying fireflies. The estate's gardens lay still, the roses dormant.

The girl faded first, her scar dissolving. "It is done. For now."

Lyra caught her arm. "Who are you? Really?"

The girl's smile was fleeting. "A memory. A warning. You."

She vanished, leaving only a single petal—gold-edged, impossibly fragile.

The Garden's Whisper

That night, Lyra dreamt of the dead star.

The First Gardener's voice lingered, faint but unyielding. "You cannot kill what is eternal. The gardens will rise again."

Lyra knelt in the ashes of the Eclipse Rose. "Let them. I'll be waiting."