Chapter 2: Garden of Echoes

Najma's head throbbed as consciousness slowly returned. The first thing she became aware of was Yoko’s voice, muffled but persistent.

“Najma! Najma, wake up!”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she was met with Yoko’s panicked face hovering above her. Yoko was shaking her gently but urgently, her voice tinged with rising hysteria.

“Najma! Come on, wake up! This is seriously messed up!”

Groaning, Najma sat up, her head spinning as she tried to make sense of where they were. Her body ached from the fall, but the disorientation from her surroundings was what hit her the hardest. They were no longer in the abandoned church. That much was clear. She rubbed her temples, trying to focus.

“What... what happened?” she muttered, her voice hoarse.

“You tell me!” Yoko’s eyes were wide as she gestured wildly around them. “We fell through the floor, and now we’re in... whatever this is!”

Najma blinked and forced herself to look up. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

They were standing in what seemed like a vast, forgotten garden, one that felt both ancient and eerily familiar, as if it had been plucked straight from a distant memory. The air was thick with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, as though the very atmosphere was heavy with the weight of long-lost moments and forgotten feelings. The sky above them was a roiling mass of dark, stormy clouds, illuminated by occasional flashes of lightning. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance, and the air smelled of rain, though none fell.

Najma pushed herself to her feet, her legs shaking slightly. “What is this place...?”

Yoko looked around, her voice wavering. “I don’t know, but I don’t like it. It’s too... quiet.” She glanced at Najma, her bravado slipping. “This is seriously freaking me out.”

Najma felt it too—the strange, oppressive calm, like they had stumbled into a forgotten realm where time had lost its grip. Despite the brewing storm overhead, the garden remained eerily still.

In the center of the garden stood a grand, crumbling fountain. Once, it might have been beautiful, elegant even, but now it was ravaged by time, its stone edges chipped and worn. Still, despite the decay surrounding it, the fountain seemed to glow with a soft, ethereal light, pulling their attention toward it.

Najma stepped forward cautiously, her steps echoing unnaturally in the quiet space. Yoko followed, though she kept glancing over her shoulder as if expecting something to jump out at them.

As they approached the fountain, Najma saw what was causing the strange glow. The water inside shimmered with a soft golden hue, like liquid light, and within it, tiny sparks danced and flickered, like distant stars. Faint whispers seemed to rise from the water, as though the garden itself was murmuring to them, the voices too soft to make out but unmistakably present.

“Najma, what the hell is this?” Yoko’s voice was shaky, her usual sarcasm nowhere to be found.

Najma didn’t answer right away. She was transfixed by the fountain, by the beauty and the tragedy it seemed to embody. Carvings on the basin depicted scenes of joy, love, and sorrow—people embracing, weeping, laughing. It was as if the fountain was a memorial to all the emotions that had once existed here, now frozen in stone.

Compelled by a strange curiosity, Najma leaned closer to the fountain, her eyes drawn to the water. Among the golden sparks were darker streaks, shadowy tendrils that twisted and mingled with the light. There was a balance between beauty and despair here—something that resonated with the depths of forgotten memories, as if the fountain had seen both love and loss.

“I don’t know,” Najma finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “But it feels... old. Like it’s been waiting for us.”

Yoko shook her head, glancing nervously at the sky. “I don’t like this, Najma. I don’t like any of this. What kind of place has glowing water and... and whispers? This isn’t normal.”

Najma was about to respond when a low rumble of thunder echoed through the garden, louder than before. She instinctively took a step back from the fountain, her heart racing.

“Maybe we should go,” Najma muttered, her earlier curiosity now dampened by a rising sense of unease.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Yoko said, already backing away. “This place gives me the creeps.”

As they both turned toward the mysterious door, they abruptly collided with something—or rather, someone.

There, standing tall in front of them, was a figure so imposing that both Najma and Yoko froze on the spot. The woman towered over them, her presence dominating the entire garden. She had curling white hair cascading down her back, and her face was completely obscured by a pitch-black mask, divided into two distinct halves with intricate twists and turns. The mask’s design gave her features inscrutable, adding to the unnerving feeling that radiated from her.

Her attire was an odd fusion of medieval and 1920s elements—her long coat and belt loosely hanging from her waist gave her a timeless, eerie elegance. The brim of a wide hat partially veiled her face, further enhancing her mysterious air. The light of the fountain flickered against the mask, casting faint white outlines along its surface.

The woman—Corazon, as Najma would soon learn—was completely still, her attention fixed on the glowing fountain behind them, though her presence encompassed the entire space.

Najma’s breath hitched, and for a moment, no one spoke. Yoko leaned toward Najma and whispered, "Should we, uh, jump her?”

Najma shot her a look, her voice barely a hiss. “Are you serious? She’s twice our size!”

Yoko scoffed under her breath. “Yeah, but there’s two of us and one of her. Simple math.”

Before either of them could make a move, the woman spoke, her voice calm and low, though it carried an undeniable weight. “You should not be here.”

Najma and Yoko instinctively stepped back, their muscles tensing as they readied themselves to activate their Miracles. Najma’s fingertips tingled as she reached for the vines lurking within her, while Yoko’s aura started to shimmer faintly around her. They were both prepared for a fight.

But before they could summon their powers, the woman—Corazon—simply snapped her fingers.

In an instant, the auras surrounding both Najma and Yoko vanished, snuffed out like the flame of a candle. The energy that had been surging within them was completely neutralized, leaving them both stunned and defenseless.

Najma’s eyes widened. “What...?”

Corazon slowly turned her masked face toward them, her voice still unnervingly calm. “There is no need for such hostility. I am not here to harm you.”

Yoko took a step back. ““You! You’re the one who dragged us into this mess, aren’t you?” Yoko accused; her voice sharp with anger. Without waiting for a reply, she lunged forward, throwing a punch aimed directly at Corazon’s midsection.

Her fist connected, but to her shock, it was like hitting air. Corazon didn’t flinch; she barely even registered the blow. Instead, a soft, amused laugh escaped from behind her mask.

Yoko stumbled back, momentarily off balance. “What the—?!” she stammered, staring at her hand like it had betrayed her.

“Nice try, dear,” Corazon said, her voice playful. “But if you’re going to fight someone else, might I suggest aiming a little higher? And use more than brute force next time.” Her tone was casual, as though she were offering advice on a schoolyard brawl rather than brushing off an actual attack.

Yoko, undeterred, gritted her teeth and swung again, this time faster, trying to catch Corazon off guard. But the result was the same—her attacks seemed to land on nothing. Corazon didn’t so much as blink. In fact, the only thing that followed was another soft giggle from the towering woman.

“Come on! Fight back!” Yoko snapped, her frustration mounting. But before she could throw another punch, Corazon reached out, effortlessly grabbing Yoko by the hood of her jacket. With a casual lift, she picked her up and gently placed her beside Najma, as if handling a misbehaving child.

“There, that’s better,” Corazon said with a chuckle, adjusting her coat as she faced the two of them. Najma, who had been watching the whole exchange in a stunned silence, felt her own nerves rising.

Yoko dusted herself off, her face red with both embarrassment and anger, but she didn’t lunge again. It was clear by now that Corazon wasn’t someone she could simply fight.

The mysterious figure turned slightly, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her eyes. "I am Corazon," she said, her voice soft yet resonant, "the guardian of this garden, a keeper of stories, and a witness to the echoes of the past.”

“… What?” Najma and Yoko said at the same time.

Corazon chuckled softly at their synchronized confusion. "You heard me, dears," she said, her voice smooth. "I am Corazon, the guardian of this garden, a keeper of stories, and a witness to the echoes of the past. This place, the Garden of Echoes, holds more than just memories—it holds pieces of lives long forgotten, fragments of souls that were never meant to be disturbed."

“You can’t expect us to just take your word for it,” Najma said, her voice sharp. “This could be some kind of mind game, a Miracle messing with our heads. For all we know, none of this is even real.”

Before Najma could continue her tirade, Corazon reached out and tugged lightly on Najma’s ear.

“Ow! Okay, okay, you’re real!” Najma snapped, pulling away and rubbing her ear.

Corazon chuckled softly, as if humoring a child. “Yes, dear. Very real.”

Yoko crossed her arms, still glaring. “So, what’s the point of all this? Why are we here?”

Corazon’s amusement faded, and her voice lowered, taking on a more serious tone. “You’re here because the balance between life and death has been shattered. The Intruder—a being of immense power—has not only stolen the energy of the Soul Pulses but has also... eliminated all the guardians of this realm.”

Corazon's expression behind the mask was unreadable, but there was a heavy sadness in her voice. "The Intruder murdered every other guardian—those who once protected the flow of life and death, the energy of the Miracles.”. I am the last one left, and I now carry the burden of protecting this garden alone.”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Yoko interrupted, her arms crossed and her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Some big bad ‘Intruder’ killed off all your guardian buddies, and now you, the last one standing, are here to warn us about the end of the world? And we’re supposed to just believe that?”

Corazon, unfazed, turned her masked face toward Yoko. “Believe it or not, the truth remains the same.”

Yoko snorted. “Yeah, right. Because that’s how this stuff works. Mysterious lady shows up, throws around some cryptic warnings, and we’re supposed to trust it?”

Najma glanced between Yoko and Corazon, feeling the tension grow. Her gut told her not to trust everything Corazon was saying, but there was something about this place—the garden, the energy, the eerie stillness—that made her wonder if there was more to it than just some strange Miracle-induced illusion.

“And you expect us to believe that this so-called ‘Intruder’ is behind everything?” Najma asked, her voice sharp. “The dead coming back to life, the chaos in the world, all of it?”

Corazon’s voice softened, though it still held an air of gravity. “The Intruder has stolen the Soul Pulses, disrupting the natural balance between life and death. What you have seen—the dead returning—is not truly life. They are fragments of souls, forced back into existence by the stolen power.”

Yoko wasn’t buying it. She stepped forward, her eyes narrowed. “Sounds like a load of crap to me. If this Intruder is so powerful, why haven’t they wiped out everything already? And why would they care about us?”

Corazon tilted her head slightly, her tone patient but firm. “The Intruder looks for more than simple destruction. They want control—control over the flow of life and death. That’s why the Soul Pulses were stolen. They are manipulating the very essence of existence.”

Najma’s skepticism flared again. “And we’re just supposed to accept that you’re the good guy in all of this?”

Corazon chuckled softly. “Whether you believe me or not is your choice. But I will tell you this—your connection to the Soul Pulses, Najma, is deeper than you know. A fragment of the Messenger, the being who first brought Miracles to your world, lives within you.”

Najma froze for a second, her brows knitting in confusion. “What do you mean? A fragment?”

“It means your Miracle is different,” Corazon said, her voice calm but direct. “Stronger, but more unstable. That connection is what the Intruder fears.”

Yoko raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “So what? Najma’s supposed to stop this Intruder because she’s ‘special’? Come on.”

Corazon’s gaze remained fixed on Najma. “You may not believe it now, but your role in this is critical. If the Intruder succeeds, the boundary between the living and the dead will shatter completely. The dead will no longer be fragments—they will overrun your world.”

Najma’s mind raced, trying to piece together the strange puzzle laid out before her. She didn’t fully trust Corazon, but the idea of the world unraveling wasn’t exactly something she could brush off.

“And what about this ‘Tempest’ you mentioned?” Najma asked cautiously. “What does that have to do with me?”

Corazon’s voice dropped, a warning clear in her tone. “Tempest is dangerous. They are tied to the Intruder, and if they find you before you are ready, it could mean disaster. Be wary of them.”

Yoko’s skepticism remained; her arms still crossed. “Right. So, you’re just throwing around names of people we’ve never heard of, and we’re supposed to be scared?”

Corazon ignored Yoko’s snide remark. “I cannot fight this battle for you, but I will send someone to help. They will find you when the time is right.”

Yoko scoffed, turning to Najma. “You’re not actually buying any of this, are you?”

Najma hesitated, her doubt still gnawing at her. “I don’t know... but there’s something off about all of this. Something we can’t just ignore.”

“Great. Well, I’m not about to take orders from some masked lady who talks like a cryptic fortune teller,” Yoko muttered, still glaring at Corazon.

Corazon, still unbothered by their disbelief, stepped back and gestured toward the now-open garden gates. “The choice is yours. You can leave now if you wish. But the path you’ve started on will lead you back here, one way or another.”

Yoko threw up her hands in exasperation. “Finally, something that makes sense. Let’s get out of here, Najma.”

Najma’s instincts still screamed at her that something bigger was going on, but for now, she followed Yoko. As they stepped toward the gate, Corazon’s voice echoed once more.

“Remember, Najma—beware of Tempest. And trust the one I send to help you.”

Najma glanced back at Corazon, still unsure of what to believe. As they passed through the gates, a blinding light engulfed them, forcing them to shield their eyes.

For a moment, everything went white.

Najma blinked as the darkness faded, her senses slowly coming back to her. She groaned softly, feeling the weight of exhaustion on her body. “Najma... Najma!” Yoko’s voice jolted her fully awake.

Yoko was kneeling beside her, shaking her shoulder. “Najma, wake up! We’re back... I think...”

Najma rubbed her eyes, sitting up slowly. “Back? What...?”

As her vision cleared, she recognized the surroundings—they were in the same old church they had entered earlier. But something felt off. They both looked worn out, as if they’d been walking for hours.

“I feel like I got hit by a bus,” Yoko muttered, flopping onto the floor dramatically. Najma couldn’t help but agree. Her muscles ached, her head was pounding, and her throat was dry.

“Why does it feel like we’ve been here for days?” Najma groaned, grabbing her phone from her pocket. She unlocked it, fully expecting to see it was still the evening.

Her eyes widened as the time flashed on the screen. 12:04 AM.

“It’s... it’s midnight?!” Najma bolted upright; her exhaustion instantly gone.

Yoko raised an eyebrow, still sprawled out. “Midnight? What are you talking about?”

“Look!” Najma thrust her phone toward Yoko, who lazily snatched it out of her hand. Yoko’s half-lidded eyes went wide as she stared at the screen.

“What the—? How is it midnight?!” Yoko shot up too, her tiredness evaporating. “It was like, what, 7 PM when we got here!”

Najma shook her head, pacing back and forth. “I don’t know... it’s like time jumped. We were in that garden for hours—no, days. But it didn’t feel like it...”

Yoko’s shock quickly turned into a grin. “Najma! This is perfect! You can totally report this—get the cops involved, make this a huge story! Time manipulation! Ghost towns! The works!”

Najma, still pacing, shook her head again. “No, no, I can’t jump to conclusions. There’s still too much we don’t understand.” She ran her hand through her hair, thinking aloud. “It could’ve been some kind of illusion Miracle... or something else entirely.”

Yoko tilted her head. “An illusion?”

Najma nodded, though she seemed unsure. “Yeah, like some kind of... I don’t know, reality-warping Miracle? But that wouldn’t explain why Corazon could deactivate our Miracles so easily. It just felt... wrong.”

Yoko scratched her chin, pretending to think deeply. “So... some kind of domain expansion?”

Najma blinked at her in confusion. “A what?”

Yoko rolled her eyes. “Never mind, pop cultures clearly lost on you.”

Ignoring her, Najma sighed. “I think we should keep this to ourselves for now. Something’s off about that church. We need more info before blowing this wide open.”

Yoko shrugged. “Fine. But I’m claiming the church as our base for this investigation. We’ll gather evidence here and plan our next moves.”

Najma gave her a look, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You’re not serious.”

Yoko grinned, standing and dusting herself off. “I totally am. It’s abandoned, spooky, and no one comes here. Perfect base of operations, right?”

Najma sighed but couldn’t help a small smile. “This is a terrible idea... but since I’m here on my own, I guess I don’t have much choice but to go along with it.”

Yoko patted her on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s get out of here before we lose more time or, I don’t know, fall into another weird void.”

Najma and Yoko made their way toward the church doors, the cold night air filtering through the broken windows. The heavy silence that filled the building now seemed to follow them, clinging to their every step. Yoko was still muttering about the idea of turning the church into their “base,” though Najma’s mind was elsewhere.

As they reached the exit, Yoko pushed open the large, creaking door, the hinges groaning in protest. “Come on, Najma,” she called out, already stepping outside into the chilly night. “Let’s get out of here before something else weird happens.”

But Najma hesitated for a moment, her fingers brushing against her jacket pocket. She could feel the folded piece of paper—the ripped Bible verse she had found earlier. Something about it tugged at her, like an unfinished thought that wouldn’t leave her alone.

She stopped, pulling out the page and unfolding it slowly. The faint words stared back at her, illuminated only by the faint light coming from outside the church.

"For the child born of stars shall rise, and with him, the heavens shall tremble. The light of hope, the shadow of despair."

Najma read it again, feeling the weight of the words settle into her chest. The child of stars. Something about that line gnawed at her. But she didn’t get it.

She shook her head and carefully folded the page back, slipping it into her pocket. There would be time to figure it out later. Right now, she had to focus on what was in front of her—Ravenswood and the strange events unfolding around it.

Najma stepped through the doorway, leaving the eerie church behind. Yoko was already halfway down the path, waiting for her impatiently.

“Hurry up, Najma! I’m not sticking around here any longer than I must,” Yoko called out, hands stuffed in her pockets as she shivered in the night air.

Najma quickened her pace, catching up to her friend with a small, tired smile. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

As the two of them walked away from the crumbling church, Najma couldn’t help but glance back one last time, the haunting silhouette of the building disappearing into the shadows. There were too many questions left unanswered, too many mysteries lingering just beneath the surface. But for now, they were leaving it behind.