Chapter 100: Chapter 100 Hidden Legacy
Victoria
Dawn painted the sky in hues of lavender and gold as I made my way through the dewy grass toward my mother’s garden. Despite the early hour, Leo walked silently beside me, his powerful presence both comforting and grounding. This would be my third visit to the garden since discovering my mother was alive, but today felt different—more urgent, more purposeful.
"You’re sure about this?" Leo asked, his voice low and gravelly from our sleepless night planning strategies.
I nodded, my fingers brushing against a fern that seemed to lean toward me as I passed. "The connection grows stronger each time. Yesterday I could almost hear her voice through the roses."
We reached the entrance to my mother’s sanctuary—a wrought iron archway now covered in morning glories that bloomed despite the early hour. The flowers seemed to pulse with a subtle blue light as I approached.
"They’re reacting to you," Leo observed, his voice tinged with awe.
"They remember me," I corrected softly. "And they remember her."
I squeezed Leo’s hand once before letting go, stepping through the archway alone. The garden embraced me immediately—vines reaching out like welcoming arms, flowers turning toward me like eager faces. The connection was so much stronger than yesterday, making my skin tingle with energy.
I made my way to the ancient moon laurel at the center of the garden—a tree said to be sacred to fairy kind. Its silver-backed leaves shimmered in the morning light, appearing almost liquid.
"I’m here," I whispered, placing both palms against its smooth bark. "Show me."
The response was immediate and overwhelming. Images flooded my mind—not fragmented impressions like before, but clear visions:
_My mother, younger and radiantly beautiful, dancing beneath this very tree in the moonlight. Silver energy flowing from her fingertips into the earth, making flowers bloom instantaneously around her bare feet._
_Elisabeth kneeling beside the laurel, her hands buried in the soil, whispering words in a language I didn’t recognize but somehow understood—a blessing for protection, a plea for the garden to remember._
_My mother cradling an infant—me—against her chest while pressing one hand to the laurel trunk. "Remember her," she whispered to the tree. "Remember my daughter’s essence. One day, she may need you."_
I gasped, pulling away from the trunk as tears streamed down my face. "She knew," I whispered, the realization hitting me like a physical blow. "Somehow she knew she might be taken from me."
From the corner of my eye, I saw Leo shift restlessly at the garden’s edge, clearly fighting the urge to come to me. I shook my head slightly, silently asking for more time.
Taking a deep breath, I moved to the rose bushes that had first connected me to my mother’s energy. They had multiplied since yesterday, their blooms larger and more vibrant than any natural roses should be.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I murmured, carefully touching one deep crimson bloom.
Instead of images, I felt an urgent pulling sensation—the roses wanted to guide me somewhere. I followed their direction, moving deeper into the garden toward a section I hadn’t explored before. The roses grew thicker here, forming an almost impenetrable wall around what appeared to be an ancient stone birdbath.
"The roses are protecting something," I called to Leo, who I could feel watching me intently.
"Be careful," he warned, his voice tense.
I approached the birdbath slowly, noting how the climbing roses had woven themselves into an intricate pattern around its base—not random growth but deliberate, intelligent design. The basin was filled not with water but with soil, from which grew a single white rose with petals that seemed to glow from within.
When I touched it, the petals fell away immediately, revealing a small silver key nestled where the heart of the rose had been.
"Leo," I called, unable to keep the excitement from my voice. "Come look at this."
He was beside me in an instant, moving with that preternatural werewolf speed that still caught me off guard sometimes.
"What is it?" he asked, eyeing the key suspiciously.
"I don’t know yet," I admitted, carefully lifting it from the dried petals. It was surprisingly warm to the touch, as though it had been lying in sunlight rather than hidden inside a rose. "But the plants wanted me to find it."
As if in response to my words, a section of climbing vines along the garden wall began to move, parting to reveal a narrow stone path I hadn’t noticed before.
"They’re showing us the way," I whispered, already moving toward the opening.
Leo caught my arm gently. "Let me go first."
I started to protest but saw the determination in his eyes. This wasn’t just the Alpha asserting dominance; this was the man who cared for me refusing to let me walk into potential danger unprotected.
"Fine," I conceded. "But stay close."
The path led us to a small door set into the stone wall surrounding the estate—a door I’d never noticed during my previous visits. It was made of weathered wood with intricate carvings that seemed to shift and change when viewed from different angles.
"It’s fairy craftsmanship," I realized aloud. "Look how the patterns move."
"Can you open it?" Leo asked, scanning our surroundings with the vigilance of a predator protecting his territory.
The key fit perfectly into a nearly invisible keyhole. When I turned it, the door swung open silently, revealing a hidden greenhouse I never knew existed. Unlike the manicured perfection of the main garden, this space was wild, almost jungle-like in its lushness. Vines crawled across glass walls that were nearly opaque with greenery. Strange flowers I’d never seen before bloomed in impossible colors—blues that shifted to purple when I moved, whites that sparkled like captured starlight.
"This was her true sanctuary," I breathed, stepping inside. The air was thick with magic—I could feel it on my skin, taste it on my tongue.
Leo followed, his nostrils flaring as he took in the unfamiliar scents. "These plants... they’re not from our world."
"They’re fairy plants," came a gruff voice from the shadows. "Brought here by your mother over many years."
We both spun toward the voice. Leo immediately moved in front of me, a low growl building in his chest.
"Who’s there?" he demanded, his voice carrying the unmistakable command of an Alpha.
An elderly man stepped into view, his weathered hands raised in a non-threatening gesture. He wore simple gardener’s clothes, mud-stained and worn, but his eyes held an ancient wisdom.
"Thomas," he introduced himself with a slight bow. "I’ve tended these gardens for three generations of Howlthorne wolves,and one very special fairy."