Into the Garden of Unwritten Memories

The wind howled through the desolate plains as Sunny stood before the entrance to the Garden of Unwritten Memories, the map tightly gripped in his hands. The path was barely visible beneath the overgrown thorns, the air thick with an unsettling silence. The map had led him here, but it didn't explain what awaited beyond.

Sunny took a step forward, each footfall echoing in the stillness. The garden loomed ahead, not in grandeur, but in an eerie, quiet sadness. The trees twisted in unnatural angles, their bark black as though charred by some forgotten fire. The ground was soft, the soil rich with a scent of decay that filled his nostrils and sank deep into his bones.

It was as if the place itself had been forgotten by time.

"This is where memories go to die," a voice whispered from behind him.

Sunny turned, his heart quickening as he spotted the figure that had spoken. It was the boy—the Seer. But there was something different now in his eyes, something deeper.

"Why are you here?" Sunny demanded, though his voice faltered slightly. He had expected answers from the Seer, but not this.

The boy's expression was unreadable, as though he had been here for far too long to care for answers anymore. "You're not the first to come seeking what is lost." He stepped closer, his steps light as if he were walking on air. "And you won't be the last."

Sunny's grip tightened on the map. "What's waiting for me here?"

The Seer gestured toward the garden's entrance, his hand sweeping across the tangled, dark foliage. "The memories of those who once sought truth. But not all memories should be found. Some are better left hidden."

Sunny didn't respond immediately. His mind was racing, thinking about the fragment of his past he might uncover—what kind of truth would await him here? And how would it change him?

"You seek your past, Sunny, but not all paths are meant to be walked. You are already part of this story, and you may not like the ending."

Sunny's gaze darkened. "I'll decide what happens next."

The Seer gave him a solemn nod. "Then go. But remember—some truths are sharp. And some… they cannot be forgotten."

With that, the boy faded into the air, leaving behind only the rustle of the wind through the dead branches.

Sunny moved forward, his feet slow but determined. Every step felt like a descent into another world—one where the boundaries between the living and the dead, between memory and truth, were indistinguishable. The deeper he walked, the more he could feel the pull of his own history, winding around him like a chain.

As he ventured further into the garden, he began to see things—glimpses of moments from his past. His mother's face, soft and loving, smiling at him when he was young. His father, stern and distant, watching him from a distance with silent disapproval. A shadowy figure that resembled someone else, someone he couldn't quite place—then it was gone, just as quickly as it had appeared.

He continued walking, trying to ignore the growing sense of dread in his chest. He had to find the truth. Had to find whatever was hidden in these twisted branches.

And then he saw it.

A small, fragile garden bench, overgrown with vines. The words "To forget is to live" were etched into its surface.

Sunny's breath caught in his throat as he kneeled beside the bench, his hands trembling. A feeling of recognition washed over him, an aching emptiness in his heart.

"This place," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's where everything went wrong, isn't it?"

The garden seemed to respond, the vines shifting, opening a path to something deeper—a hidden place beneath the bench.

It wasn't a place.

It was a memory.

The moment it dawned on him, Sunny felt a sharp pain in his head. His knees buckled as the vision flooded into his mind—a memory long buried.

The moment when his life had truly changed.

He saw a man. Not a man, but a beast—his father's eyes twisted with rage, and Sunny felt his heart race as the image played out. The feeling of cold steel. The words his father had whispered, twisted with malice. A betrayal. A family torn apart.

And then, a fleeting image—a woman's voice. Someone telling him, "You're not alone, Sunny."

The truth hit him like a wave.

His past wasn't just pain. It was a betrayal—a loss he had buried so deep inside that he had forgotten its weight.

The garden shifted, darkness creeping up the edges of his vision. But the truth remained.

It was more than he had imagined.