15. Eve

15

EVE

T he morning sun filters through the leaves of the small plant cutting I've been nurturing since we left the abandoned castle. I gently touch its delicate leaves, smiling as I notice new growth.

"How's our little traveler doing?" Mordakus asks, his gruff voice softer than usual.

I look up, surprised by his interest. "It's thriving," I say, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "See these new leaves? It's adapting well to our journey."

Mordakus kneels beside me, his large frame dwarfing the tiny plant. "What kind is it again?"

"It's a rugen cutting," I explain. "My mom used to grow it in our garden. The scent always reminds me of home."

His eyes soften at the mention of my past. "Tell me more," he says, settling down next to me.

As we eat our meager breakfast, I find myself sharing stories of the garden I grew up tending with my parents. The tomato plants that grew taller than me, the fragrant herbs my mom used in cooking, the wildflower meadow my dad surprised us with one spring.

"It sounds beautiful," Mordakus says when I pause, lost in memories.

I nod, blinking back tears. "It was. And someday, I hope to create something like it again. A place of life and growth, you know?"

He's quiet for a moment, then says, "I think you will, Eve. If anyone can bring beauty back to this world, it's you."

His words warm me more than the morning sun. As we pack up camp and continue our journey, I cradle the rugen cutting carefully, my mind full of plans and possibilities.

By midday, we come across the remains of a small town. Buildings stand in various states of decay, nature slowly reclaiming the streets.

"Might be worth checking out," Mordakus says, ever practical. "Could find supplies."

We make our way cautiously into the town, alert for any signs of danger. As we pass by various buildings, I can't help but imagine what they once were – homes, shops, lives lived and lost.

"Look," I say, pointing to a building with faded lettering above the door. "I think that's a library!"

Mordakus raises an eyebrow. "Books aren't exactly a priority, Eve."

"Knowledge is always valuable," I counter. "Besides, there might be practical guides we could use."

He sighs but nods, following me into the musty interior of the old library. Sunlight streams through broken windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air. The smell of old paper and forgotten stories surrounds us.

As we explore, I run my fingers along the spines of books, marveling at the wealth of knowledge preserved here. Then, I spot something that makes my heart leap.

"Mordakus!" I call out, pulling a large, colorful book from the shelf. "Look at this!"

He joins me as I reverently open the book, revealing page after page of gardening tips, plant illustrations, and landscape designs.

"It's perfect," I breathe, drinking in the images of lush gardens and thriving plants. "With this, we could create something amazing at the golden coast."

I look up to see Mordakus watching me, an expression on his face I can't quite read. "What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

He shakes his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Nothing. Just... I've never seen anyone get so excited over a book before."

I laugh, clutching the book to my chest. "It's not just a book, Mordakus. It's a blueprint for our future."

As we continue to explore the town, I share my growing vision with Mordakus.

"Imagine a community garden," I say, gesturing expansively. "A place where everyone can come together to grow food, healing plants, flowers. Where children can learn about nature, and adults can find peace after everything they've been through."

Mordakus listens intently, asking questions and offering suggestions. His enthusiasm, subtle though it may be, fuels my excitement even more.

"Tell me more about this garden of yours," Mordakus says as we walk. "What else do you want to grow?"

His interest warms me to my core. As I describe my plans – the vegetable patches, the herb spiral, the garden – I notice Mordakus watching me with a softness in his eyes I've never seen before.

"What?" I ask, pausing in my enthusiastic description.

He shakes his head, but his smile remains. "Nothing. Just... you make me see beauty in this world, Eve. In a way I'd forgotten was possible."

His words catch me off guard, and I feel a blush creeping up my cheeks. "Oh," I stammer. "I... thank you."

We walk in comfortable silence for a while, the weight of unspoken feelings hanging between us. Finally, I gather my courage.

"Mordakus?" I say softly. "I'm glad it's you I'm sharing this journey with. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else."

He's quiet for a long moment, and I fear I've said too much. But then he reaches out, taking my hand in his.

"Neither can I, Eve," he says, his voice gruff with emotion. "Neither can I."

As the sun begins to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues, we make camp for the night. While Mordakus secures the perimeter, I tend to my rugen cutting, whispering encouragement to it.

"One day," I promise it. "You'll be part of something beautiful. We all will."

I look up to find Mordakus watching me, an unreadable expression on his face. But there's a warmth in his eyes that makes my heart skip a beat.

As I drift off to sleep that night, Vincent curled up beside me and Mordakus keeping watch, my dreams are filled with images of the future. A thriving garden by the sea, a community coming together to heal and grow, and Mordakus – always Mordakus – by my side through it all.