Emiren stood among the dark trees, a deep calm in his heart and a heavy weariness on his shoulders. He still couldn’t get used to the fact that the Garden of Time had changed, that Aliana was gone, and that he remained alone—not just as the guardian of this place, but as the only Creator who maintained the balance. He was the only one who could help this garden either blossom or perish. And this realization weighed heavily on his soul.
The rustling of the leaves was a faint accompaniment, reminding him that life still existed around him, even if this world seemed to be losing its shape. The trees that once flourished in all their grandeur now hung dead, like forgotten wallpaper of time, weathered and withered.
He walked through the dark forest, each step seeming to echo what once was—life, time, light. And this was only the beginning, just the first stir of what he felt. But when he reached the central gallery, the place where shadows meet reality, his gaze met another figure.
Mereza. She stood among the trees, as if she were part of this Garden, but her eyes were hard to read. She was not just a person; she was a Creator, and it was visible in her aura that pulsed with dark energy, moving as if reality itself were alive.
“You are alone,” she said, as though she could see into his soul, not just his physical form.
“Yes, I am alone. But what does that change?” Emiren replied, not trying to hide the pain in his voice.
Mereza approached him, her steps silent. She was almost part of this place, and although he couldn’t explain why, in her presence, the Garden seemed alive, breathing, mysterious.
“The Garden is changing. And you have changed,” she said. “But like me, you want to understand what happened. We Creators, but do we truly understand what’s going on?”
Her voice was calming, yet there was something unfriendly in it. This question had a deeper meaning, and Emiren felt his heart tremble at the unspoken threat.
“What happened to Aliana?” Mereza asked, her gaze never leaving him.
Emiren lowered his eyes. He couldn’t tell her about the sacrifice. It was too painful, and even now, his mind refused to believe it.
“She is gone,” he said, maintaining a cold appearance, though a pang of grief stirred within him. “She left to save this world. And her sacrifice was necessary.”
Mereza fell silent, but her eyes spoke more than words. Her gaze was piercing, observant. She was studying him, as though looking for the key to some deep secret.
“Do you still believe in balance?” she asked suddenly.
Emiren raised his gaze. The shadows, which once seemed sharp and clear, now began to fade, blending with the light that could scarcely be distinguished from the dark. He was deep in thought. His belief in balance wavered, like a thin thread.
“I no longer know what to believe,” he admitted.
Mereza smiled faintly, but it wasn’t joy—it was cold irony.
“How interesting a response from a Creator,” she said. “You’ll eventually come to the same conclusion we all did. Shadows… Time… They tear through reality, and there’s no way to turn it all back. Sacrifices like hers were in vain.”
Emiren fell silent. His fists clenched, but he held himself steady. The Garden around them began to change: the trees began to bloom again, but their glow was pale, as if they were once more trying to resist chaos.
“You don’t understand,” he said, turning his head towards Mereza. “The Garden doesn’t wait. It changes faster than we can realize. We must act immediately.”
She didn’t respond right away. Perhaps she understood that one could no longer stand aside and watch as this world crumbled. But her shadows unfolded, and her internal struggle was evident in every movement.
“You have chosen this path,” she said at last. “But whether you remain alone, or find someone to share your will, it no longer matters.”
She left, leaving Emiren with his thoughts.