No one really knew how or why it was made, and no one of the village dared to enter either, for it was said that the garden whispered secrets to those who wandered too close.
One evening, a girl named Elara was standing at its gates. The waft of night-blooming flowers came to her through the wind, and the silver petals sparkled like stars fallen to earth. Unable to bear it anymore, she stepped in.
As soon as she touched the grass with her feet, the whole place shivered; a damp voice called, “You’ve come back after so long.”
Elara turned, her heart pounding. The figure before her, clothed in flowing silver robes, had eyes as deep and dark as the night sky.
“Wh-who are you?” she whispered.
The figure smiled down, placing a glowing flower in her hands. “I am a guardian of forgotten dreams, and this garden is, in its essence, you.”
Childhood memories poured back: dreams of a secret place; laughter ringing under moonlit skies; and a promise made long ago.
As the first rays of dawn brushed upon the petals, Elara realized: she was never meant to leave this place. This was where she truly belonged.
And for as long as the moon rose, the garden would call out her name.
