Chapter 3: Echoes in the Soil
They didn't speak about the garden for two days.
Partly cause Jun had a spiritual headache.
Mostly cause every time Alex tried, the roots near the barn would twitch like they were listening.
Which was creepy.
Even for a guy who regularly talked to trees and sometimes got life advice from a goat.
That morning, it rained.
Not normal rain.
The drops were heavy. Slow. And when they hit the ground?
They made sound.
Not splashes. Not plops.
Sound. Like... words.
Alex stood on his porch, listening.Jun joined him, cup of bean tea steaming.
"You hear that?"
Alex nodded slowly. "...It's whisperin names."
"Whose?"
Alex didn't answer.
In the field, the crops grew strange.
Turnips twisted into spiral shapes. Carrots pulsed faint light. Even the rice paddies had ripples where none should be.
Meilin finally said what no one wanted to.
"We didn't just open a door. We opened a path."
Alex rubbed his face. "System?"
"Root Network expanding. Past and present threads interweaving. New Echoes surfacing. Containment... no longer possible."
"Wait—what kinda echoes?"
"Memories. People. Choices left unfinished."
Jun blinked. "So... what, ghosts?"
"Memories strong enough to act like people. They may not know they're dead."
Yun'er stepped out of the house, blade already in hand.
"Well then. Let's be polite."
The first one came at sundown.
A woman.
Young. Dressed in robes like water. Eyes like forgotten moons.
She walked out of the forest, barefoot, humming.
Alex stepped forward.
"Can I help you, miss?"
She blinked. Smiled faintly. "Is this the Temple of Wind?"
"No ma'am," he said gently. "This is a farm."
Her smile didn't fade. She just looked around.
"I'm waiting for my brother. He went into the soil."
Then she vanished.
Like mist.
They came more after that.
A child who searched the field for her lost jade bell.
A man who stared at the scarecrow and whispered, "You made me."
A monk who sat cross-legged by the stream and wept until the sun rose.
All Echoes.
All remembering something.
All... unfinished.
Yun'er leaned on the railing that night, staring into the dark. "They're not violent."
"Not yet," said Meilin. "But they're gathering."
Jun stared into his tea. "Maybe they're drawn to the roots."
"Or maybe," Alex said quietly, "they're waiting."
That night, the dream came again.
Same field of ash.
Same whispering soil.
But this time, Alex knelt.
Placed his hand on the ground.
And said, "I remember you."
The earth pulsed.
A face appeared.
His own.
But older.
With gold eyes.
It spoke only once—
"Then you must finish what you began."
He woke with roots around his arm.
Gently pulsing.
Waiting.
End of Chapter 3