Beneath the Leaves

The morning after the garden felt distant.

Sawl moved through the compound like a man freshly returned from somewhere far off, though he'd never technically left. Everything felt more mechanical now. Conversations felt rehearsed and steps, choreographed. He followed the mission's rhythm, but it no longer synced with his own.

He had barely slept. The Helper's words still echoed beneath his breath, like a melody only he could hear. There was no longer comfort in control. No peace in precision.

When his briefings ended, he didn't return to his quarters.

Instead, his feet took him back to the garden.

The conservatory was empty again. Overgrown. Honest.

He wandered deeper this time, past the broken paths and leaning stone columns. Dew clung to his boots. The warmth of sunlight filtered through the fractured glass above.

He didn't know why he returned. Only that he had to.

It was there, beneath the shade of a willow-like tree, that he saw someone waiting.

An older man. Earth-worn but composed. Dressed in neutral, functional clothing, nothing that drew attention. He sat on a low bench, arms relaxed, eyes thoughtful as they watched Sawl approach.

Sawl slowed. Hesitated. He hadn't seen anyone else enter.

"Didn't mean to intrude," the man said calmly. "But it seems this place calls to more than just plants."

Sawl said nothing at first. The man didn't look like anyone from Novaheim's staff, but something in his posture spoke of deeper knowledge. Like he had watched too many things for too long to be surprised by much.

"I didn't expect company," Sawl replied finally.

"That makes two of us." The man smiled, then looked up through the cracked glass. "Funny, isn't it? This place survived longer than the systems around it. Left untouched, and yet… it's still alive."

Sawl glanced around, suddenly aware of the silence again. Even the birds seemed to quiet in this corner of the garden.

"Systems are cleaner," Sawl said. "Easier to maintain."

"Yes," the man nodded. "But they rarely teach you what it means to grow."

There was something in his voice. A calmness that didn't come from ignorance, but from intimacy with truth.

"What do you know of growth?" Sawl asked, curious in spite of himself.

The man leaned forward slightly. "Growth doesn't happen in sterile rooms or calibrated chambers. It comes from tension. Struggle. A crack in the surface that lets something new break through."

Sawl frowned. "That sounds… inefficient."

The man laughed softly. "It is. Wildly inefficient. But necessary."

They sat in silence for a moment, broken only by the whisper of wind across the treetops.

"You saw something, didn't you?" the man asked, not looking at him. "Not with your eyes. With something deeper."

Sawl didn't answer. The air between them was heavy now.

"You're not the first to feel it," the man continued. "And you won't be the last. But most ignore it. Push it away. They're afraid of what they'll lose if they open that door."

Sawl turned, gaze narrowing. "What door?"

The man finally looked at him, eyes sharp and kind all at once.

"The one between what you know... and what you were made to remember."

Something stirred in Sawl. He didn't like the feeling. It was too raw. Too close to the dream.

"You speak like someone who knows more than they should."

"Perhaps," the man said, standing slowly. "Or maybe I've just been paying attention longer."

He stepped past Sawl, then paused, glancing back.

"Truth doesn't arrive with force. It waits. Quietly. And it shows itself only when you're ready to see it."

Sawl turned to face him fully. "And what if I'm not ready?"

The man smiled.

"Then it will wait. But it won't stop whispering."

Without another word, he walked into the greenery and was gone.

Sawl remained beneath the willow, the sunlight dappling the stone beneath his feet. The breeze carried the smell of soil and old roots, and something else, something sacred.

He looked down at the flower still tucked in his hand.

The truth was waiting.

And now... so was he.