"Maybe I should tell you from the very beginning," Kirana said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of many untold stories.
Sagara and Jati stood across from her in the dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension. The soft hum of the ceiling fan was the only sound accompanying her words—until she spoke again.
"Listen carefully," she said, her tone growing serious, eyes narrowing slightly. "After the Second World War ended, something… divine appeared in the sky. It wasn't a weapon or a human creation. It was a being—so massive, so radiant—that people could only call it a god."
She leaned forward, clasping her hands together on the table.
"That being gave every single human on Earth a seed. Not a normal seed like the ones you plant in soil—no, this was something spiritual, something beyond our current understanding. At the time, most people dismissed it as a mass hallucination or divine metaphor. But soon after… strange things began to happen. People changed. Some transformed into monsters."
Sagara's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. "So… my dad turned into a monster because of that seed?" he asked, his curiosity tinged with dread.
Kirana nodded solemnly. "Yes. That seed was the cause."
"But… why would a god give us something that turns people into monsters?" Sagara pressed, trying to make sense of it all.
"Well," Kirana said, glancing briefly at Jati beside her, "we still don't know the purpose. Not everyone sees it as a divine gift. Some believe the seed isn't from a god at all. Some say it's the work of demons. Others whisper it's the doing of extraterrestrials—aliens. Whatever the source, one thing is certain: the seed is powerful. And it is dangerous."
She stood up slowly and began pacing as she continued.
"Your government, like many others, believes the seed is a threat. That's why you've never heard about it in school or seen it in the media. They suppress it. Cover it up. In some regions, they even go so far as to eliminate those who awaken the seed."
At this, Jati gave a small, solemn nod of agreement.
"But not everyone who awakens becomes a monster," Kirana said, stopping in front of Sagara and pointing at him. "There are others—people like you, like us—who are different."
"We're called Bloomers," Jati added quietly. "And those who fail to control the awakening… we call them Corrupted Bloomers."
"Bloomer?" Sagara repeated, confused. "Why that name?"
Kirana returned to her seat. "Because we make the seed bloom. It's a metaphor—but also literal. Look above my head."
Sagara followed her instruction and noticed, faintly, a glowing halo hovering above her—a circle with four delicate petals extending outward, spinning slowly like a celestial flower.
"And look at Jati's," she said.
Jati's halo was the same—four petals, steady and quiet.
"You have one too, Sagara," Kirana said, smiling faintly. "Take a look at your reflection."
He turned his head to the nearby window, squinting against the soft glare. There it was—a single petal halo above his own head, floating weightlessly. His breath hitched. It was real.
He raised his right hand and reached toward the petal, but his fingers passed right through it as if it weren't there at all.
"It's not something you can touch," Kirana said with a laugh. "It's not part of this physical reality."
"Then… why can I see it?" he asked, more puzzled than ever.
"That's still a mystery," she said. "Some say it's merely a projection—like the spiritual reflection of your seed. Others believe it's a dimensional marker. Regardless, it's how we know someone has bloomed."
"How do I get more petals?" Sagara asked earnestly.
"To grow more petals, you have to feed the seed—emotionally," Kirana said, her tone now far more serious. "The seed feeds on the emotion that triggered your awakening. In your case, it was gluttony. Hunger. So you'll have to feel that again. Embrace it. But be warned—"
She leaned in closer.
"If you can't control it—if you get swallowed by it… you'll become a monster. Just like your father."
Sagara went quiet. The sorrow returned to his face, heavier this time, knowing that his father hadn't just lost himself—he had been consumed.
"So," he whispered, "the Corrupted are just Bloomers who failed…"
Kirana nodded. "Yes. They couldn't overcome the emotional storm during the bloom."
A shiver ran down Sagara's spine. He remembered that moment in the white space—the unbearable hunger, the madness that led him to eat his own hand. Instinctively, he glanced at his right arm, which still bore the mark of that transformation—a long, visible slit running from palm to elbow.
Kirana noticed his gaze.
"Abilities manifest from that bloom. Your right hand is your seed's ability," she said. "Jati, for example, can sink into shadows. He can hide inside them."
Jati gave a nod, silently confirming it.
Sagara looked at both of them, hesitating. "So… what's the difference between the petals?"
"One petal," Kirana explained, "means part of your body transforms. Like your hand—or my eyes."
"At two petals," she continued, "you can summon the soul or will of a creature born from your seed."
"At three petals, you can summon a small avatar of that creature."
"Four petals… you can bring that creature into reality."
Sagara listened, overwhelmed but trying his best to understand.
"And five?" he asked.
Kirana smiled slightly. "Five is special. To reach five petals, you must become one with your creature. Merge. It's called Ascension."
He took a moment, then asked, "Why did you save me?"
Kirana leaned back, folding her arms. "Because we are The Garden. We believe the seed is a gift from God, and it's our mission to help everyone bloom—fully and safely."
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then, Sagara clenched his fists. The grief returned. The pain. The loss.
"You think the seed is a good thing?" he asked bitterly, voice rising. "Because of it, I lost everything. My family. My life. My father."
Kirana's expression changed instantly. Her eyes ignited with a dangerous flame, her presence suddenly oppressive.
"Boy," she said sharply, standing from her seat, "watch your tone. I could end you with a flick of my wrist."
The force of her aura pressed down on Sagara like gravity itself. His knees buckled, and he fell to the floor, gasping. The pressure from a four-petal Bloomer was unbearable for someone with only one petal.
"The seed is a divine gift," she said with fire in her voice. "It's humanity's only chance to evolve. You should be grateful you're a Bloomer."
Before he could respond, she waved a hand dismissively.
"Go back to your room. Think it over. I have work to do."
Sagara didn't argue. He stumbled up and left, Jati following close behind.
As they walked down the dim hallway, Jati broke the silence.
"Don't take her words too seriously."
Sagara looked at him, still trembling slightly. "Do you believe the seed is a good thing too?"
Jati didn't answer with words. He only gave a small nod.
They walked the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the fork in the hallway, Jati stopped and opened the door to his own room.
"If you need anything," he said gently, "just ask me."
Sagara nodded faintly and walked toward his own room. His steps were heavy, his mind a whirlwind of confusion, fear, and pain.
Now that he knew the truth… what was he supposed to do with it?