ed to linger. Among the most vocal skeptics was Thorne, the village elder. Thorne was a man of rigid beliefs and traditions, deepl

ge elder, he held significant influence, and the garden's growing popularity undermined his authority. He watched with incr

house, their faces etched with concern. Thorne spoke with fervor, his voice rising above the howling wind. "This garden is a blight upon o

heard of the garden's power but had not yet visited it. Torn between her grief and her loyalty to Thorne, sh

always been a place of danger. We must not be swayed by tales of miraculous he

, but her heart ached for relief from her pain. After the meeting,

urmoil. "I can see you are troubled," Elara sa

Elara listened with empathy, her heart aching for the young woman. "The garden does not demand belief,

the forest, the storm having subsided to a gentle drizzle. When they reached the Garden of Sorro

tals soft and inviting. "Sit here," Elara instructed. "Let yo

flood of memories overwhelmed her: her brother's laughter, their childhood adventures, an

sed, and as the first light of dawn broke through the clouds, Lia felt a sense of cal

her face serene. "Thank you, Elara," Lia whispered. "I

nsformation, where the old ways coexisted with the new. Thorne, however, was not ready to concede. His determination to

y the garden's quiet power. She knew the path ahead would not be easy