Elara's POV
Lydia's corrupted vines shoot toward me like venomous snakes.
I don't think. I just react.
My hands fly up and the plants I'm still clutching—my basil, my ivy, my rescued succulent—explode with growth. They surge forward, creating a living shield between me and my sister's attack. Thorns sprout where there were none. Stems thicken into wood. Leaves sharpen into blades.
The vines collide with a sound like breaking glass.
"Impressive," Lydia purrs, her poisoned plants writhing around her body. "But you're still just a frightened little girl playing with flowers. I've been training with Victor for months. I'm stronger. Better. Everything you should have been."
"Training?" The word tastes bitter. "Is that what you call selling your soul?"
Her eyes flash with rage. "You self-righteous little—"
Kieran's roar cuts her off. He's fully transformed now—not quite human, not quite beast. Silver fur covers his arms and back. His eyes glow like molten gold. Claws extend from his fingers, each one looking sharp enough to cut steel.
He's terrifying. He's beautiful. He's mine.
"You want Elara?" he snarls at the twenty Harvesters surrounding us. "You'll have to go through me first. And I promise—I've torn apart armies for less."
The Harvesters attack as one.
What follows is chaos. Kieran moves like liquid death, claws flashing, taking down three men before they can even raise their weapons. But there are too many. For every one he defeats, two more take their place.
I watch him fight—this ancient, powerful being who chose to spend thirteen years as my stray cat. Who listened to all my stupid problems. Who purred when I was sad. Who's now bleeding from a dozen wounds because he's protecting me.
Something inside me cracks open. Not breaking—awakening.
"Enough!" I scream, and my voice doesn't sound like mine anymore. It sounds like wind through ancient forests. Like rivers carving through stone. Like the earth itself speaking.
Every plant in Kieran's safe house responds.
The potted trees in the corner shoot upward, their branches spearing through the ceiling. Vines burst from cracks in the floor, wrapping around Harvesters' legs and dragging them down. Flowers bloom and release pollen that makes the attackers choke and stumble.
Even the grass growing between the floorboards rises up like tiny soldiers, tangling around boots and weapons.
"The girl's power is unstable!" someone shouts. "We need to sedate her!"
"Good luck with that," Kieran laughs, dangerous and wild. He grabs my hand. "Elara, we need to move. Now. Can you run?"
I look at the battle around us—at the Harvesters still coming, at Lydia gathering her corrupted vines for another attack, at the safe house literally falling apart as my uncontrolled power tears it from the inside.
"Yes," I gasp. "I can run."
"Then run!"
We bolt for the back exit. Kieran tears through anyone who gets in our way while my plants create chaos behind us. I hear Lydia screaming in frustration, hear orders being shouted, hear the sound of motorcycles starting up again.
They're not going to stop. They'll never stop.
We burst out into the night. Rain is still falling, turning the streets into rivers. Kieran doesn't slow down. He scoops me up—plants and all—and leaps.
I swallow my scream as we soar through the air. He lands on a fire escape three stories up, the metal groaning under our combined weight. Then he's climbing, jumping, moving across rooftops like gravity is just a suggestion.
Below us, Harvesters pour out of the building. I see Lydia pointing, directing them. See vehicles speeding through the streets, trying to track us.
"Hold on tight," Kieran warns.
"I am holding—"
He jumps again. This time we're airborne for what feels like forever. We sail over an entire street, over cars and streetlights and shocked pedestrians who'll probably think they imagined us.
We land hard on another rooftop. My teeth click together. The plants I'm clutching are getting heavier, growing in response to my fear and adrenaline.
"Kieran, I can't—" I start to say, but he's already moving again.
For twenty minutes, we run. He carries me across the city like I weigh nothing, jumping impossible distances, scaling walls that should be unclimbable. Behind us, the sounds of pursuit gradually fade.
Finally, we drop into a dark alley that smells like rain and old concrete. Kieran sets me down gently, breathing hard.
"Are you hurt?" he asks immediately, his hands running over my arms, checking for injuries. "Did any of them touch you?"
"I'm fine," I manage, even though I'm shaking so hard my teeth are chattering. "You're the one who's bleeding."
He glances down at the cuts covering his arms and torso. "These will heal by morning. Guardian bodies repair themselves."
"That's convenient."
"It's necessary." He gives me a small smile. "Hard to protect people for centuries if a papercut could kill you."
Despite everything—the terror, the confusion, the absolute insanity of the last two hours—I almost laugh. Almost.
Then reality crashes back down and I'm stumbling backward until I hit the alley wall. My legs give out. I slide down to the wet ground, still clutching my plants like lifelines.
"This is real," I whisper. "All of it. Magic is real. Supernatural beings are real. My cat was secretly a man for thirteen years. People want to kidnap me and drain my power. My whole family was a lie. Everything was a lie."
Kieran crouches in front of me, his transformation receding until he looks human again. Wet silver hair plastered to his face. Golden eyes full of concern. Blood and rain mixing on his skin.
"Not everything," he says softly. "Your kindness was real. Your love for broken things was real. Every gentle word you spoke to me, every gentle touch—that was all real."
"I talked to you about boys," I groan, burying my face in my hands. "I told you about my crush on Adrian. I cried about how he never seemed to notice me. Oh god, you heard everything."
"I did." He carefully pulls my hands away from my face. "And every time you cried over him, I wanted to claw his eyes out. Every time you doubted yourself because of them, I wanted to tell you the truth—that you're extraordinary, that you deserve everything, that any man would be lucky just to breathe the same air as you."
"You loved me even when I was talking about loving someone else?"
"Especially then." His thumb brushes across my knuckles. "Because even when your heart was breaking, you still watered your plants. Still fed the stray cat. Still smiled at strangers. You never let them make you cruel, Elara. That's why I love you."
Fresh tears spill down my cheeks, mixing with the rain. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to be this person—this Garden-Speaker. I can barely keep a succulent alive and now apparently I'm supposed to control all of nature?"
"You'll learn." He says it with such confidence, such certainty. "I'll teach you. We'll figure it out together."
"What if I can't? What if I'm not strong enough?"
"You grew an entire forest in your apartment tonight out of pure instinct. You fought back when anyone else would have frozen in fear. You're already stronger than you know."
I want to believe him. I want to believe I can be the person he thinks I am.
But I'm so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of running. Tired of my entire world turning upside down.
"Can we just... stop for a minute?" I ask weakly. "Just stop and breathe?"
"Of course." He settles beside me on the wet ground, his shoulder touching mine. "We're safe for now. The protection spells I placed on this alley will keep us hidden for a few hours."
"Protection spells. Right. Because that's a normal thing people say."
He smiles. "Your new normal is going to be very different from your old one."
We sit in silence, listening to the rain. My plants rustle softly, their voices quieter now, comforting. The basil has wrapped around my arm like it's hugging me. The ivy curls protectively around both of us.
"Kieran?" I say after a while.
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For everything. For watching over me all those years. For fighting for me tonight. For..." I swallow hard. "For loving me when I thought I was unlovable."
His arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me close. "You were never unlovable, Elara. Never."
I lean into his warmth, letting my exhaustion finally catch up to me. My eyes drift closed. The last thing I feel is Kieran adjusting my position so my head rests on his shoulder, his hand gentle in my hair.
"Sleep," he murmurs. "I'll keep watch. Nothing will touch you while I'm here. I promise."
And despite everything—despite the danger, the fear, the impossible situation—I believe him.
I fall asleep to the sound of rain and his steady heartbeat, wrapped in the arms of the Guardian who loved me from the shadows.
I don't know how long I sleep. Minutes? Hours? Time feels strange and elastic.
What wakes me is Kieran going completely still.
Not relaxed still. Alert still. Predator-sensing-danger still.
My eyes snap open. "What's wrong?"
"Someone's coming." His voice is barely a whisper. "Someone powerful. Someone who shouldn't be able to find us through my protection spells."
The air in the alley grows colder. The shadows deepen, becoming almost solid. My plants start shaking, their voices rising in panic in my mind.
Danger. Danger. DANGER.
A figure materializes from the darkness at the end of the alley. At first, I think it's another Harvester. But as he steps into the weak streetlight, I realize this is something worse.
He's older—maybe mid-fifties—with silver-streaked hair and eyes that glow with cold blue light. He wears an expensive suit that doesn't have a single wrinkle despite the rain. Power radiates from him like heat from a fire.
When he smiles, it doesn't reach his eyes.
"Hello, Kieran," he says, his voice smooth as poisoned honey. "It's been a long time. Three hundred years, I believe?"
Kieran stands slowly, putting himself between me and the newcomer. His whole body is tense, ready to fight. "Victor."
Victor. The name sends ice through my veins. This is Victor Thorn—the man who's been hunting me. The man who killed the last Garden-Speakers three hundred years ago. The man who orchestrated my entire fake life.
"And this must be dear Elara." Victor's glowing eyes fix on me. "My, my. You look so much like your mother. She had the same defiant eyes right before I killed her."
Rage explodes through me—hot and fierce and completely new. This man murdered my parents. Destroyed my family. Set up my torture-disguised-as-adoption.
My hands start glowing green. The plants around me grow taller, sharper.
Victor laughs, delighted. "Oh, she has spirit. Excellent. Breaking her will be so much more satisfying." He takes a step forward. "Now then, child. Let's discuss your future. Or rather, your very brief future. You have something I need. Your power. Your life force. And I will take it—whether you give it willingly or I rip it from your dying body."
Kieran's claws extend. "You'll have to kill me first."
"That," Victor says, his smile widening, "can be arranged."
He raises his hand and the entire alley explodes with dark magic.