Brela - Rot (3)

Doubts crept into Brela's mind. Wouldn’t friendships fade, too, once distance began to grow between them? Already, Brela could barely feel Lot and Avee’s warmth. It was as though the air around her had grown colder, the colors in her garden dimmer. The laughter that once echoed through her thoughts now felt far away, faint as a memory carried on the wind. Luckily, that faint warmth still nourished some of the flowers within her, making them shine in lush, vivid colors. Their bond hadn’t vanished yet.

But what if it did?

She felt increasingly haunted by a terrible sense that everything she had built since the first sunrise, her bonds with her friends, with Daw, might one day wither away. Sometimes she could almost see it happening: the empty space where Avee used to sit by the river, the faint sound of Lot’s hammer no longer ringing through the village. Each absence left a hollow in her chest that no new blossom could fill. Two of them were already gone, weren’t they? No one had ever left after such a long time before. Surely, more would follow. And then everything would change.

The community she so deeply loved, the one that made her heart bloom and filled her inner garden with life and color, was already no longer whole. The evenings had grown slightly quieter; fewer voices rose in song, and even the birds seemed hesitant to land near the square. Or did she just imagine that? And within her, that dark place she tried to ignore grew larger, carrying terror with it.

Until one day, she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She crouched among her flowers as Dio worked beside her, trimming them gently. Brela swallowed hard and glanced at him, watching the calm movement of his small shears. Even the sound of them, soft clicks cutting through the hush, seemed to amplify her heartbeat. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“Dio… the place inside me… the dark path at the edge of my beautiful garden… I think it’s growing. It’s spreading. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

She looked at him and noticed a slight twitch, then that worried expression he rarely showed. A nearby petal quivered and wilted as if echoing her confession.

“That doesn’t sound good, Brela. What are you doing about it?”

She blinked. “What?”

He gave a small nod, the kind he often did, as if to reassure himself it wasn’t too personal to continue.

“You said it’s spreading. What are you doing to stop that from happening?” he asked.

“I… nothing…” she stammered, feeling the blood rush to her face as if he had caught her doing something wrong. 

Her fingers clenched in the soil, pressing into the damp earth as if trying to anchor herself. Dio pressed his index finger thoughtfully to his lips, as though restraining himself from speaking too soon. “It’s a part of you, that garden in your heart,” he said after a pause. “Is there any way you can change it intentionally? Make it grow in such a way that it covers the path?”

Brela thought for a while, brushing her fingers over the flowers in her hair. 

“That’s hard to say. I can’t really control it. The garden is simply there. It’s been growing ever since the Sun created it, sustained by the warmth I feel for each of you. But to actually direct it… I can’t,” she said, her voice heavy.

“What about the berries?” Dio asked.

She froze.

“The berries… I almost forgot about them again! Still, do you think they could help?”

“That’s also hard to say. Maybe it would be better if you thought about how much that path into decay truly troubles you—and whether you believe it will keep spreading. If it is dangerous, try to face it. If it isn't... Don’t let yourself worry too much if it isn’t necessary,” Dio said, poking at the soil with his small shovel. “In the end, I suppose there are things in all of us that we’re afraid of.”

Brela hesitated and looked at him questioningly. “What are you afraid of, Dio?” she asked, her voice so soft it was almost lost to the wind.

To her unease, she saw him flinch. The color drained from his face.

“Me? Well... Of what happens inside me when I stop learning new things… or when I learn too much,” he said, hesitating.

For a heartbeat, she thought she saw something vast flicker in his eyes—a depth that frightened her. The wind shifted through the garden, brushing against her cheek like the edge of some distant storm.

She nodded. Her thoughts drifted back to that hillside with the wooden spheres, to his expression back then, his glittering eyes, always reaching further, searching for more, already somewhere far away.

“That’s wise,” she murmured. “I think nothing is truly good in excess.”

“True,” he agreed.

They fell silent, working side by side until the garden looked a little more beautiful again. Yet Brela kept noticing Dio glancing at her, worried and watchful. She pretended not to see his concern, keeping her smile fixed and whistling softly to fill the quiet. The faint rhythm of snipping and humming became their fragile peace.

When the Sun finally sank and its last rays touched them, they strolled toward the tree trunk where Des was already waiting with his usual calm expression.

“Ah, you almost missed the sunset,” he said. “How’s the garden? Did you make progress?”

Brela smiled her usual smile and told him all they had done, Dio nodding eagerly beside her, though his thoughts seemed elsewhere that night.

When she parted from them and pushed open the creaking door to her house, exhaustion swept over her. With a sigh, Brela went to bed, curling beneath her blanket. Slowly, she slipped inward, into herself, walking among the circular beds of her inner garden. The air inside shimmered faintly, as though full of light pollen. Her fingers brushed over the leaves, smooth, oily, rough, and velvety. The colors around her gleamed sharply, and the warmth of her friends drifted through her braids, playing among the flowers in her hair. Somewhere, soft happy murmurs echoed in the distance.

She breathed in the sweet fragrances swirling around her and, at last, found peace…

…until a stench crept into her mind and made her nose twitch. 

At first, it was only a faint bitterness, as if something burned far away. Then it thickened, sour and heavy, twisting through the sweetness of her garden. Startled, she whirled around and jumped back with a cry, stumbling and crashing hard against the low wall that bordered the garden beds behind her.

Where she had just been standing, the ground had darkened. It was not rich and earthy, but decayed and cold. Pale, fibrous shapes spread across the soil, fuzzy layers she first mistook for fungi, though they looked strangely artificial. They quivered faintly, as if breathing. A thin sheen of moisture glimmered across them, reflecting the light in strange, wrong colors. Her eyes wandered over the rotting ground, then rose to the entrance of the darkness. It had grown wider. Some of the trees nearby had withered away; only sickly stumps remained, blistered with cold, pus-like bubbles that framed the path.

Brela tore herself out of her inner world and found herself sweating in bed, clawing at her hair until clumps came loose in her hands. Her breath caught, and for a moment she could still smell the decay... as though it had followed her out.

SHIT, what is that? WHAT IS THAT INSIDE ME? she screamed inwardly, but only a faint whimper escaped her lips as she covered her mouth.

What about the berries…?

Dio’s voice echoed faintly in her mind, as if to steady her, and she was suddenly grateful she had told him about the spreading rot within her. Without wasting a breath, she got up. It was still early morning, and almost no one noticed her slipping into the nearby forest. The mist hung low, silvering the undergrowth; droplets clung to her lashes. She could have brought Dio, although it felt wrong; Brela had the sense that she needed to find the berries on her own.

Her steps carried her onward through fresh undergrowth and dew-covered glades. The smell of wet bark and moss clung to her clothes. She had no idea how long she walked; the farther she went, the clearer her purpose became.

I have to find the berries. They’re out there, I know it. Golden, gleaming, graceful. They’re everything I need…

Her feet pressed on. Creatures darted across her path; streams and rocks blocked her way, yet she didn’t waver. Her legs ached, but she barely felt it. All she could focus on was the pull of something bright ahead.

I can’t let the decay spread. I can’t..., she thought, quickening her pace, reckless now as she leapt over jagged stones and rushing waters.

She could almost feel them—the berries. Golden spheres, growing far from Daw and its people, out where the Dream was still wild and malleable. They had to be there, at the edge, at the border she had never crossed.

Brela didn’t notice the days slipping past. The sky changed color, the air thinned, and her voice grew hoarse from calling into the silence. She drank from cold streams and slept beneath twisted roots, her body weakening even as her resolve grew sharper. Time lost its meaning; all that remained was the glow she felt somewhere beyond the trees.

When the moon once more poured its silver light over a clearing, she stopped.

A quiet, rising joy swelled within her. Something had crept up unnoticed in her heart and now bloomed all at once. It was too strong, almost feverish, but it was good. And there, beneath an ancient willow, hidden from both beasts and human eyes by a curtain of tangled brush, something shone in a clear, golden light that broke through branches and leaves like living fire.

She pushed through the hanging veil of soft, trailing limbs, her hands trembling as she began to uncover the glow. Her knees ached from the uneven, stony ground; sharp black pebbles dug into her skin, and she kept reaching into stony thorns that tore at her fingers. Yet she didn’t stop. Her breath came in shallow bursts, half sob, half laughter. At last, she revealed a tiny shrub...

...and there they were.

Brela gasped, disbelief catching in her throat, and clapped a dirt-streaked hand over her mouth. The berries pulsed faintly, as if breathing with her, their golden light reflecting in her tears.

“Dio, I found them!” she laughed, unable to stop a sob of relief from breaking through her voice.