Elara's POV
"Victor's retreating!" my father shouts. "Everyone, HOLD POSITIONS!"
But I'm not listening. I'm running straight toward Victor's army as they pull back into the darkness.
"ELARA, NO!" Kieran roars, but I'm already moving, my hands glowing green.
Because I saw something everyone else missed—a small figure stumbling behind Victor's forces. A child. Maybe seven years old. Chains around his wrists. Terror on his face.
Victor's using a kid as a shield.
"Please!" the boy screams. "Help me!"
I don't think. I just act. My power shoots forward—not attacking, but protecting. Vines explode from the ground, creating a wall between the child and Victor's monsters. I grab the boy and pull him behind me just as something with too many teeth lunges for where he stood.
The creature's claws rake across my arm instead. Pain explodes white-hot.
Then Kieran's there, his claws tearing the creature apart before it can strike again. My parents flank us, their combined power driving Victor's army back further.
"Retreat means RETREAT!" my mother snaps at me, healing my bleeding arm with a touch. "Not 'run toward danger like an idiot'!"
"He was going to die," I gasp, holding the trembling child.
"So were you!" But her eyes are soft. Proud. "That was incredibly brave and incredibly stupid, daughter."
The boy clings to me, crying. "They took us. So many of us. Kids with powers. Victor's gonna hurt us—"
"How many?" my father demands gently, kneeling beside us. "How many children did Victor take?"
"T-twelve. Maybe more." The boy hiccups. "We're in a dark place underground. Cold. Scary. They said they're gonna use us for 'the ritual' when they catch the Garden-Speaker lady—"
His eyes go wide as he looks at me. "You're her. You're the one they want."
"Hey." I cup his face, wiping his tears. "What's your name?"
"T-Tommy."
"Okay, Tommy. I'm Elara. And I promise—I'm getting your friends out."
Victor's voice booms across the ruined greenhouse, amplified by dark magic: "ENJOY YOUR SMALL VICTORY, GARDEN-SPEAKER! I HAVE WHAT I NEED. SEE YOU SOON."
Then he's gone, his army melting into shadows like they were never there.
Silence falls. The World Tree's roots slowly withdraw. My parents sag with exhaustion—they might have escaped Victor's prison, but eighteen years of torture left them weak.
"Everyone back to base," Kieran orders the other Garden-Speakers. "Now. Before Victor regroups."
The "base" turns out to be Silvercrest's abandoned botanical gardens on the east side—a massive glass structure that's been closed for ten years. But when we arrive, I understand why Kieran chose it.
It's not abandoned. It's sleeping.
The moment I step inside, every dormant plant wakes up. Roses uncurl from dead-looking stems. Trees that seemed like bare sticks suddenly sprout leaves. Flowers bloom in impossible colors.
"Whoa," Tommy breathes. "Are you doing that?"
"I... think so?" I watch in amazement as the entire garden comes alive around me.
An older Garden-Speaker—a woman with silver hair and kind eyes—approaches. "I'm Vera. I've been maintaining this place with eleven others, keeping it alive in secret. We're the last free Garden-Speakers. Well—" she smiles, "—we were. Until you woke up."
Over the next three days, more allies arrive.
First come the other Guardians—seven ancient warriors who look at Kieran with respect mixed with wariness. He's legendary, apparently. The "Silver Death" who hunted Victor's people for centuries.
"Didn't think you'd ever call for help," one Guardian named Marcus says. He's built like a mountain and has a scar across his face. "Heard you preferred working alone."
"I did." Kieran pulls me close. "Then I found something worth protecting besides revenge."
The Guardians kneel before me—actually KNEEL—and pledge their service. It's overwhelming and embarrassing and I make them all stand up immediately.
"I'm just Elara," I protest. "You don't have to—"
"You're the first Garden-Speaker born in three hundred years," Marcus interrupts gently. "You're hope. Let us protect that."
Next come the werewolves—a pack of twelve led by a woman named Luna who transforms between human and wolf so casually it's like watching someone change shirts.
"Victor's been hunting our cubs," Luna growls. "Any enemy of his is family to us."
The friendly fae arrive after that—beautiful, dangerous beings with sharp teeth and sharper smiles. Their leader, Ash, has wings like a dragonfly and eyes that swirl with colors.
"We hate Harvesters," Ash says simply. "They cage what should be free. We'll help you tear them down."
Finally come the refugee mages—humans with magic who escaped Victor's experiments. They're scarred, traumatized, but burning with the need for justice.
By the end of day three, we have an army of forty-seven. It's not much against Victor's hundreds, but it's a start.
I spend those three days learning, training, and healing.
My mother teaches me advanced techniques—how to speak to entire forests at once, how to accelerate growth across miles, how to draw power from the earth itself without exhausting myself.
My father teaches me combat—using plants not just for defense but as weapons. Vines that can crush steel. Thorns that pierce armor. Seeds that explode into instant barriers.
But the most important thing I learn is this: my power grows stronger when I share it.
When I heal a werewolf's wounds, the grateful wolf lends me some of its strength. When I revive dying plants, they boost my energy in return. When I feed magic to exhausted mages, they channel some back through our connection.
"Garden-Speakers are called that for a reason," my mother explains. "We don't rule nature. We're part of its network. Give and receive. Share and grow. The more you connect, the stronger everyone becomes."
On day four, I bring the entire botanical garden to full bloom—acres of plants all thriving at once. Everyone stops to stare.
"She's glowing," someone whispers.
I look down. They're right. Green light pulses under my skin like veins of pure life.
"That's impossible," Vera breathes. "That level of power takes decades to develop—"
"She's had eighteen years of compressed emotion," my father says quietly. "Every tear she cried into plants. Every moment she poured love into broken things. All that stored energy is awakening now."
Kieran finds me later, sitting under a willow tree I just grew from a seed in ten minutes.
"You're terrifying," he says, settling beside me. "In the best way."
"I scared Marcus. A giant Guardian warrior is scared of ME."
"You made a tree appear out of nothing in ten minutes, Elara. I'm a little scared of you too." But he's smiling. "It's a good look on you. Power."
"I don't feel powerful. I feel..." I struggle for words. "I feel like I'm finally becoming who I was always meant to be. Does that sound stupid?"
"No." He takes my hand. "It sounds perfect."
We sit in comfortable silence while the garden hums around us. Then Kieran tenses.
"Someone's coming. Fast."
Everyone's on their feet instantly, weapons ready. A figure stumbles through the garden entrance—bloodied, limping, barely standing.
Adrian.
Kieran moves to attack but I grab his arm. "Wait."
Adrian collapses to his knees, gasping. He's been beaten badly. One eye swollen shut. Cuts everywhere. When he looks up at me, there's no arrogance left. Just fear.
"Message," he coughs. "From Victor. He sent me because he knew you wouldn't kill the messenger."
"Smart man," Luna growls. "Talk fast before we change our minds."
Adrian pulls out a phone with shaking hands. Presses play.
Victor's face fills the screen. Behind him are cages. Inside the cages are children—dozens of them, including more kids who must have been with Tommy. They're crying, terrified.
"Hello, Garden-Speaker," Victor purrs. "By now you've met young Tommy. He was bait, in case you're wondering. Deliberately left where you'd find him. See, I know you. You can't resist saving innocents. It's your weakness."
My blood runs cold.
"Here's my offer," Victor continues. "Surrender yourself to me by midnight tomorrow, and I'll release these children unharmed. Refuse, and I'll drain every drop of power from their small bodies, killing them slowly, one by one. Your choice."
The screen goes black.
"It's a trap," Kieran says immediately. "Obviously a trap. He'll kill them anyway once he has you."
"Maybe." I stare at Adrian. "What do you think? You worked for him."
Adrian flinches. "He'll kill them whether you come or not. But if you don't show up, he'll make it hurt. He's done it before."
"Why are you here?" my mother demands. "Why bring this message? You betrayed Elara. You should be with Victor celebrating."
"Because I'm done." Adrian's voice breaks. "He killed my sister. Lydia. Said she failed him, so he drained her power and threw her away like trash. She was a monster, but she was my—" He chokes on the words. "I'm done being his puppet. I'm done watching children die. If you're planning something, anything, I'll help. I'll tell you everything I know about his facility."
"How do we know this isn't another trap?" Ash asks suspiciously.
"You don't." Adrian meets my eyes. "But I'm here anyway. I can't undo what I did to you, Elara. I destroyed your life. I made you think you were worthless. But maybe I can help save theirs." He gestures to the phone showing frozen images of caged children.
Everyone looks at me. Waiting for my decision.
The old Elara would have been paralyzed by doubt, too afraid to choose, desperate for someone else to decide.
But I'm not her anymore.
"We're going," I say firmly. "But not to surrender. We're going to burn his facility to the ground and save every single child."
"Elara—" Kieran starts.
"Those kids have powers like us. They're scared and alone and thinking no one will save them." My hands glow brighter. "I spent eighteen years feeling that way. I won't let them suffer one more second."
"It's suicide," Marcus warns.
"No." My mother stands beside me, my father on my other side. "It's war. And we've been waiting eighteen years to fight back."
Over the next hours, we plan. Adrian draws maps of Victor's underground facility. Reveals guard rotations. Secret entrances. Where the children are kept.
"There's something else," Adrian says quietly. "Victor's planning a ritual at midnight tomorrow. If it succeeds, he'll drain the children's powers and use them to become immortal. He's dying. That's why he's so desperate for Garden-Speaker abilities—you're the only ones who can heal his condition. But he'd rather steal your power than ask for help."
"Then we hit him before midnight," Luna says. "We go in fast, grab the kids, get out."
"And Victor?" Kieran asks.
"We end him," I say, and my voice doesn't shake. "Whatever it takes."
That night, everyone prepares for battle. Weapons are sharpened. Magic is gathered. Plans are reviewed.
Kieran finds me in my corner of the garden, surrounded by blooming night flowers.
"You don't have to do this," he says softly. "No one would blame you for running. You've already been through so much."
"Those children are going through worse." I stand, facing him. "And I'm not running anymore. From anything. Ever."
He cups my face, his golden eyes intense. "Then come back to me. Promise me you'll come back."
"Always," I whisper.
He kisses me like it might be the last time. Deep and desperate and full of unspoken fears. When we break apart, both our hearts are racing.
"If something happens to me—" I start.
"Nothing will happen to you," Kieran says fiercely. "I won't let it."
"But if it does—"
"Then I'll tear through heaven and hell to get you back." His voice is absolutely serious. "You're mine, Elara. The universe doesn't get to take you from me."
At midnight, we move out. Forty-seven supernatural beings, united by hope and rage, heading straight into Victor's trap.
Tommy grabs my hand before I leave. "Save them. Please."
"I will," I promise. "All of them."
We travel through underground tunnels Adrian guides us through. The facility appears ahead—a massive concrete structure buried beneath the city. Guard towers. Patrol routes. Everything Adrian described.
"Once we're inside, we split up," Kieran reminds everyone. "Team one—rescue the children. Team two—hold off Victor's forces. Team three—find Victor and end this."
"Which team are you on?" I ask.
"Whichever one keeps you alive," he says simply.
We breach the facility walls. Alarms scream. Guards rush to meet us.
And then everything goes wrong.
The guards aren't human. They're not even alive.
They're the missing Garden-Speakers. The ones Victor captured over the years. But they've been turned into something else—mindless, obedient, their eyes empty and glowing with Victor's dark magic.
"No," my mother gasps. "He turned them into puppets. Slaves."
"Can we save them?" I ask desperately.
"Maybe. If we can break Victor's control—"
One of the corrupted Garden-Speakers attacks. My father barely blocks it.
"They're still in there somewhere," he says. "Don't kill them. Restrain only."
But restraining forty corrupted Garden-Speakers while also trying to rescue children and fight Victor's army? It's impossible.
We're being pushed back. Overwhelmed. People are getting hurt.
Then I feel it—a familiar presence. Coming from deep below. Calling to me.
"The children aren't in the cells," I realize with horror. "They're in the ritual chamber. Victor's starting early!"
"We're pinned down!" Luna snarls, her pack fighting desperately against corrupted Garden-Speakers. "We can't reach them!"
"I can." I pull away from Kieran. "I can feel the children. They're reaching for me through the earth. They're Garden-Speaker descendants—they can sense me too."
"If you go alone, you'll die," Kieran says.
"If I don't go, they'll die." I grab his face. "Trust me. Trust that I'm strong enough."
For a long moment, he just looks at me. Then he kisses my forehead.
"Run fast. Fight hard. And come back to me."
"Always."
I take off running, following the pull from below. Down corridors. Down stairs. Down, down, down into the earth.
Until I reach a door that pulses with dark magic.
Beyond it, I hear children crying.
I blow the door apart with a thought.
The ritual chamber is huge—and in its center, twelve children float in magical circles, their power being slowly drained into a crystal that glows sickly red.
Victor stands at the controls, smiling.
"Right on time," he says. "I knew you'd come. Heroes are so predictable."
Then the door slams shut behind me.
And I realize too late—this wasn't about the children at all.
It was about getting me alone.
"Welcome, Garden-Speaker," Victor purrs, his eyes blazing with hunger. "Let's begin."