Chapter 8) Beneath the Garden of Silence
The world had grown quieter since the second petal arrived.
Not silent—just quieter. As if everything had leaned in, waiting.
Caelum held the petal between his fingers, letting its soft texture whisper against his skin. It was just a flower. A fragment. And yet it carried the weight of something vast and unseen.
He'd hidden it beneath a loose floorboard along with the first petal, Selene's coin, Lira's card, and Maribelle's charm. It was becoming a shrine, unintentionally—a collection of strange, beautiful burdens.
He sat in the pale morning light, staring at the floorboard, wondering what it meant that someone was watching. That he was being followed. That every step he took might ripple across eyes he could not see.
He didn't tell anyone. Not this time.
Not even Maribelle.
---
It was a gray morning when the summons came again, this time in the form of a rolled parchment delivered by a messenger in storm-colored livery. The seal was unfamiliar—half-moon and thorn.
The message was simple.
> You are cordially invited to the Northern Gardens by Princess Selene of Sloth.
Midday. No escort. No guards. Come alone.
He stared at the letter for a while, then packed his things slowly. He wore a light cloak—nothing too fine, nothing too plain. Just enough to pass as someone between worlds.
It was a long walk.
The Northern Gardens sat on the edge of the city, near the cliffs that overlooked the sea. Not many went there. It was too far, too quiet. Said to be cursed by old winds.
He passed through the final gate at noon.
And the world changed.
---
The garden was not like the others. It wasn't manicured or sculpted. It was wild.
Vines clung to stone archways. White flowers bloomed in unruly patches. Willow trees dipped their branches into forgotten ponds. The scent of salt and damp moss filled the air, and the wind carried whispers he could almost understand.
He found Selene beneath a tree with silver leaves, reclining on a circular bench carved from marble.
She wasn't wearing court attire.
Instead, she wore a dark shawl over simple robes, her hair braided loosely down her back. A book lay open beside her. A candle, despite the daylight, flickered at her side.
"You came," she said, not looking up.
"I said I would."
She nodded. "Then sit."
He obeyed.
For a long while, she said nothing. The breeze moved around them like a ghost. Birds chirped distantly. The sea sighed beyond the cliffs.
Then she spoke.
"Do you know what this place used to be?"
He shook his head.
"It was a sanctuary," she said. "A place where the first queens would come to pray when the wars ended. Each planted a tree. That one"—she gestured to the silver-leaved tree—"was planted by Queen Erythea. They say she buried a dagger beneath it."
"Why?"
"To remind herself that peace is always sharpened by sacrifice."
Caelum glanced down at the roots.
"I like that," he said softly.
Selene turned to face him.
"You're different," she said.
He raised an eyebrow. "You've mentioned that."
"No, I mean it. The others see your face, your charm. But I see the fractures."
"Fractures?"
"You hide them well," she said, eyes narrowing slightly. "But they're there. You think too much. You hesitate. You fear hurting others."
"I consider that a strength."
"It can be. But it can also be a blade turned inward."
Caelum stared at the flickering candle.
"Why did you ask me here?"
"To show you something."
She reached beneath the bench and pulled out a small scroll, bound in black ribbon. She unrolled it carefully, revealing a sketch. Not of him—but of seven trees, all arranged in a circle, roots tangled together.
"This is a prophecy," she said.
He swallowed. "Of what?"
"Of the One Between Crowns."
"The… what?"
She looked him dead in the eyes.
"There's an old myth. That one day, when the seven kingdoms grow too prideful, the balance of the land will shift. And someone—neither royal nor peasant—will appear. They will not wear a crown, but they will carry all seven in their shadow."
He felt a chill dance down his spine.
"That's just a story."
Selene tilted her head. "Is it?"
He looked at the scroll again. The seven trees. The interwoven roots.
"What are you saying?"
"I don't know yet," she said quietly. "But the Veil believes it's beginning. And I think… you're the storm in the center."
Caelum stood.
"This is insane."
She didn't stop him.
"I'm not a symbol. I'm not some… chosen figure. I'm a boy who came to a festival, danced with the wrong girls, and now everyone thinks I'm dangerous."
Selene stood too, her eyes sharper than the sea air.
"You think this is about romance?"
He blinked.
She stepped closer.
"You are not being watched because of who wants to kiss you, Caelum. You are being watched because you unbalanced a game that was meant to be eternal. You changed something. You became a variable. And now all the powers—seen and unseen—are trying to decide whether to use you or erase you."
The words hit like stones.
He felt his breath tremble.
"I didn't ask for any of this," he whispered.
"No one ever does," she replied, gently now.
She reached out, and to his surprise, took his hand.
"Walk with me."
They moved through the garden slowly, passing over broken paths and moss-strewn statues. Flowers bloomed from cracks in the stone, and old windchimes tinkled from forgotten branches.
"I don't know if you're the one in the prophecy," Selene said at last. "But I do know this—nothing stays ordinary forever. Especially not you."
He said nothing.
But in his chest, something shifted.
---
They returned to the fountain by dusk.
Selene lit another candle, this one with a strange red wick.
Caelum watched the flame flicker. "What's that one for?"
"For truth," she said.
"And the others?"
"White is for protection. Green is for memory. Blue is for silence. I light them when I need clarity."
"Do they work?"
"Sometimes."
She blew out the red flame.
"I think the next days will be dangerous."
Caelum looked at her. "Why?"
"Because you're starting to believe it."
---
That night, back in his room, he opened the floorboard again.
The second petal had begun to wilt.
He stared at the small collection. Not treasures. Not trophies.
Just pieces of something growing too large for him to carry alone.
A knock came at the door.
Sharp. Urgent.
He stood.
Opened it.
And found Elira standing there, sword on her back, fury in her eyes.
"Come with me," she said. "Now."
He didn't question.
He followed.
---
The alleys of Rivelan were darker tonight. Even the lamps felt dimmer, shadows dancing like secrets. Elira moved swiftly, speaking only once they reached a narrow bridge over the river.
She turned, her voice low.
"They tried to frame you."
"What?"
She handed him a folded letter. Caelum read it—and his heart stopped.
It was a forged confession. His name. His signature. Stating he had been blackmailing the princesses.
"Where—"
"It was found in the chambers of Lord Cassair. Pride's cousin. Veina intercepted it."
"Why me?"
"Because the court is splitting. Some want you protected. Some want you ruined."
He let out a shaky breath. "What do I do?"
Elira stepped forward.
"Fight."
Caelum blinked.
"You think I'm a warrior?"
"No," she said. "But you are surrounded by them. And you're smarter than half the court."
She placed a dagger in his hand—sleek, black steel.
"Keep this with you. And don't trust anyone blindly. Not even me."
He looked at her.
"I trust you."
She didn't smile. She only said:
"Then stay alive long enough to prove it."
---
By the time Caelum returned home, the night had grown thick and silent.
He sat beside his window, staring out at the stars.
For the first time, he let the thought settle fully.
This wasn't just about dances anymore.
This wasn't about charm, or rumors, or petals.
It was about survival.
And destiny.
And the line between the two growing thinner by the day.