The small structure that rose from the heart of the garden became more than a building—it became a beacon.
Crafted by magic but shaped by intention, it had no locks, no gates, and no guards. Its doors were always open, and carved gently into the arch above were the words:
"Welcome, Dreamer."
By day, it was a place of laughter and learning. Villagers came to share skills—carving, painting, storytelling, even farming techniques passed down through generations. Children learned to write their dreams in journals. Teenagers brought songs and poems. Elders passed wisdom like seeds in the wind.
By night, it became a haven of quiet. Soft lanterns lit the space, and the walls glowed faintly with the energy of every dream whispered inside.
Kaira and Emeka, now seen as guardians of the garden, never claimed ownership.
"This place doesn't belong to us," Kaira would say. "It belongs to every heart that still dares to dream."
Soon, word spread beyond Anuli.
People from neighboring villages came—some in search of hope, others out of curiosity. And when they returned home, they often carried with them a small seed the garden had gifted. Not just a token, but a promise:
You, too, can plant something beautiful.
One evening, a young boy who hadn't spoken in years stepped into the sanctuary. He walked to the center, placed his tiny hands on the wall, and whispered something.
The wall lit up.
A vine spiraled upward, blooming into a glowing flower. The boy turned and smiled—a full, radiant smile.
And just like that, he began to speak again.
Kaira watched in awe. It reminded her of her first visit to the garden—the fear, the wonder, the awakening. But now, she saw something more:
The garden was no longer a secret space. It was a shared dream.
And dreams, when shared, become unstoppable.