The next morning arrived quietly. Soft light seeped into the room as Sagara rubbed his eyes. His body still ached from the previous night's struggle, but the warmth of the sun calmed him. Before long, Jati and Indri entered his room, each carrying a tray of food. It was almost routine by now—something similar had happened the night before. The same aroma. The same weight in his stomach. The same war inside him.
Sagara sat up slowly, his body heavier than it should've been, and accepted the food. As expected, once he began to eat, the hunger awakened again. That monstrous, clawing hunger that clawed at his insides as if trying to escape. He clenched his fists, struggling to suppress it, just like he did last night. It was a loop—a cycle of feeding and resisting.
But this time, Jati and Indri stood nearby and simply watched. They didn't rush forward. They didn't tie his hands. They didn't panic. They stood calmly, observing Sagara's progress with quiet attention.
There was improvement. His resistance grew stronger. Sagara fought back against his hunger more quickly. With each bite, he tensed, then slowly exhaled, waiting for the hunger to subside before taking another. Jati even sat beside him this time, eating his own food without fear. It was a sign of trust, and Sagara appreciated it more than he could say.
Once the food trays were empty, Indri collected them and headed back to the kitchen to begin preparations for the next meal. She had a lot to do—there were many people in the building who relied on her cooking.
Jati stretched and glanced at Sagara, who was still sitting on the bed.
"Boy, how about we walk around this place a little?" he said, voice friendly. "You should get familiar with it. And you need to meet the others who live here."
Sagara didn't say much. He just nodded silently. He had nothing else to do, and something about Jati's calm presence helped keep his anxiety at bay.
They walked together through familiar hallways. Sagara could see the door to Kirana's room and the entrance to the kitchen. The place smelled faintly of spices and herbs—remnants of breakfast still lingering in the air.
They ascended the staircase to the next floor. From this higher vantage point, Sagara noticed a small balcony with a clear view of the surrounding forest. Several doors lined the hallway, and Jati led him to the one furthest away. He raised his hand and knocked.
"Come in," called a voice from inside.
Jati opened the door, and the first thing that caught Sagara's attention was the towering bookshelves. They covered every corner of the room, filled with books of all shapes and sizes. In the center of the room sat a large desk, behind which a man in a wheelchair was working. He looked to be around Jati's age—young, but with a maturity in his eyes. Thick glasses framed his calm expression.
Floating above the man's head was a halo with four distinct petals, glowing faintly. Behind him stood a strange creature—a bright red, octopus-like being with eyes the size of a human head. Its long tentacles moved with quiet precision, helping the man retrieve books from shelves.
"This is Jagat," Jati said, introducing the man.
"I'm Sagara," Sagara replied, stepping forward and offering his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Jagat smiled. "I'm Jagat. Nice to meet you too."
Instead of shaking his hand directly, Jagat's creature extended a tentacle and gently shook Sagara's hand. It was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant.
"I hope you enjoy staying here," Jagat said warmly.
Then, he turned toward Jati, his expression more serious. "Jati, tomorrow you and Sagara will need to travel to another city. A new bloomer is about to awaken."
Jati raised an eyebrow. "Someone's about to bloom?"
"Yes," Jagat said simply, as if stating a fact of nature.
Sagara tilted his head, trying to follow the conversation. The words made sense, but the meaning didn't quite reach him. He glanced from Jati to Jagat, his curiosity evident.
Jagat noticed and smiled faintly. "You'll understand soon enough."
As they turned to leave, Jagat raised his voice one last time. "And don't forget to bring me an interesting book."
Jati responded with a silent thumbs-up.
Sagara looked puzzled. As they walked out into the hallway, Jati chuckled.
"You're confused, huh?" he asked.
Sagara nodded slightly.
"Well, Jagat has the ability to see glimpses of the future," Jati explained.
Sagara's eyes widened. "He can see the future?"
"Not everything," Jati said. "But enough. Enough to help us prepare."
The two continued walking through the building, which, despite its modest appearance, had four floors and was built with surprising efficiency. The structure had likely been modified over time to accommodate those who lived here. Its remote location made it a safe place—no outsiders would stumble across it accidentally.
They spent hours walking the halls, meeting a few other residents. Most of them weren't bloomers like Sagara. Some were ordinary people—supporters of the Garden, cooks, caretakers, teachers, and researchers. Others had halos like Jati, though none with more than three petals. It was a peaceful place, far removed from the chaos Sagara had experienced before.
As the day waned and the sky outside turned orange, they returned to their rooms. Before parting ways, Sagara turned to Jati with a question.
"What should I prepare for tomorrow?"
Jati scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Mmm... Just prepare your body. Maybe borrow a couple books from Jagat. They'll help."
Sagara nodded. "Alright. I'll go back to his room."
With that, he ran down the hallway and stopped in front of Jagat's door. He raised his hand and knocked twice.
Before he could knock again, the door opened—this time not by a hand, but by one of the creature's tentacles.
Jagat was already smiling, holding out two books. "Here. These are what you need."
Sagara blinked in surprise. "How did you…?"
He didn't finish the question. He took the books with a small bow and walked back to his room in silence, deep in thought.
That night, he read everything.
Maybe because Jagat could see what he needed, the books were perfect—not overly complex, but filled with important insights.
He learned a lot.
The first book explained the nature of bloomers in detail—what sparked their bloom, the emotional catalysts, the role of halos, and the terrifying transformation into corrupted bloomers if control was lost. It outlined training techniques and how different bloomers evolved.
The second book was a history of the Garden.
Sagara was especially drawn to this one.
He learned that the Garden was founded by a powerful bloomer known as the Mother. Her halo had five petals—an achievement beyond rare. She was the first to believe that blooming should not be feared, but embraced. She believed every person had the right to bloom—to awaken their inner potential, no matter how dangerous others believed it to be.
The Mother founded the Garden to protect those who had bloomed and those who hadn't yet. She opposed the way society hunted bloomers out of fear. Her ideology attracted others, and slowly, the Garden grew. But not everyone agreed.
In the Garden's early days, many other bloomers, threatened by her vision, tried to destroy her and her followers. Sagara read of multiple attempts on her life—bloody battles waged in secrecy. But she survived them all. Every assassin failed. Every threat was crushed.
Eventually, the world began to notice. Governments, organizations, and even some rogue bloomer factions realized the Garden was not to be taken lightly. It grew in power, influence, and mystery. People whispered about it. Some sought it out, while others feared it.
Now, the Garden stood as a beacon—an ideal. A place where people could bloom safely. Where they could be protected.
Sagara closed the book and rested his head against the wall.
He felt something new inside him—not just hunger, but understanding.