The night was cold, and the orphanage was silent, save for the faint creaks of the old building settling into itself. The other children were sound asleep, curled beneath threadbare blankets, their dreams untouched by the darkness that lingered just outside their reach. But for Elias, there was no peace in sleep. He lay wide awake, his eyes fixed on the window, the pale moonlight casting long shadows across the floorboards.61Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOI3QVGkBdP
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The whispers had returned, stronger and more insistent than ever. They called to him from the garden, their voices weaving through his thoughts like a haunting melody he couldn’t ignore. He could almost feel the pull, like an invisible thread tugging at his chest, urging him to rise, to go to the place that both terrified and fascinated him.
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"You’re ready now," the voice from the garden whispered, its tone soft and compelling. "Come to me, Elias. There’s so much I need to show you."
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Elias sat up, his heart pounding in his chest. He glanced around the room, his gaze flickering over the sleeping forms of the other boys. None of them stirred. None of them heard the whispers. For a moment, he hesitated, his small hands clutching the edge of his thin blanket. He knew the risks. If Miss Grayson caught him sneaking out again, her punishment would be severe. But the whispers were relentless, their promises too alluring to resist.
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With a deep breath, Elias swung his legs over the side of the bed and crept toward the door. The floorboards groaned softly beneath his weight, but the boys didn’t stir. Slowly, carefully, he slipped out of the room and into the darkened hallway.
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The orphanage was a different place at night. The familiar creaks and groans of the old building took on an eerie quality, each sound amplified by the oppressive silence. The moonlight streaming through the cracked windows painted the walls in shifting shades of gray, and the shadows seemed to move of their own accord.
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Elias moved quickly, his bare feet padding softly against the cold wooden floors. He knew the route by heart—down the narrow hallway, past the kitchen, and out the back door. The door was always locked at night, but Elias had discovered a loose pane of glass that he could slip through if he was careful.
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As he reached the door, he paused, his breath fogging in the cool night air. For a moment, he thought he heard footsteps behind him, the faint echo of shoes against the floorboards. He turned, his heart hammering in his chest, but the hallway was empty. Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside and slid through the loose pane, the sharp edges of the glass biting into his palms as he squeezed through.
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The night air hit him like a slap, cold and sharp against his skin. The garden loomed before him, a dark and tangled mass of vines and brambles. The iron gate stood open, its rusted hinges creaking softly in the breeze. Elias hesitated, his small frame trembling as he stared into the darkness.
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"Don’t be afraid," the voice whispered, its tone reassuring. "You’re safe here. I’ll protect you."
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Taking a shaky breath, Elias stepped through the gate and into the garden.
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The garden was alive in a way that defied explanation. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves, and the tangled vines seemed to shift and writhe like living things. The path beneath Elias’s feet was narrow and uneven, lined with stones that glowed faintly in the moonlight.
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"You’re almost there," the voice said, guiding him deeper into the garden. "Just a little further."
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Elias followed the path, his eyes darting nervously to the shadows that seemed to close in around him. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig sent shivers down his spine. But the voice was there, steady and calming, urging him onward.
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Finally, he reached the clearing at the heart of the garden. The stone lay where he had left it, half-buried in the soil, its smooth surface glinting in the moonlight. But there was something different about it now, something... alive. The air around it seemed to pulse with energy, and the whispers grew louder, filling Elias’s mind with a strange, rhythmic hum.
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"You’ve done well, Elias," the stone said, its voice rich with approval. "You’re stronger than I thought."
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Elias knelt before the stone, his small hands trembling as he reached out to touch it. The moment his fingers brushed its surface, a shock of cold ran through his body, and he gasped, his eyes widening.
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"What… what are you?" he whispered.
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"I’m your friend," the stone replied. "I’ve always been your friend. I’ve been waiting for someone like you, someone who can hear me, someone who can help me."
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"Help you with what?" Elias asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
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"To set me free," the stone said. "To break the chains that bind me to this place. You’re the only one who can do it, Elias. You’re special."
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Elias swallowed hard, his mind racing. The stone’s words filled him with a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. For so long, he had felt invisible, forgotten, like a shadow passing through the world. But now, the stone was telling him he mattered, that he was important.
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"How can I help you?" he asked, his voice trembling.
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"There’s something buried here," the stone said. "Something the garden has been hiding for many years. You need to find it, Elias. You need to dig."
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Elias hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground around him. The soil was dark and damp, tangled with roots and weeds. He didn’t have a shovel, but his small hands would have to do.
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"Do it," the stone urged. "You’re so close."
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Taking a deep breath, Elias began to dig. The soil was cold and heavy beneath his fingers, and the roots tore at his skin as he clawed at the earth. The whispers grew louder, filling his mind with a strange, hypnotic rhythm that urged him to keep going.
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After what felt like an eternity, his fingers brushed against something hard and solid beneath the soil. His heart raced as he cleared away the dirt, revealing a small, rusted box. The metal was corroded with age, and the lid was tightly sealed.
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"You’ve found it," the stone said, its voice trembling with excitement. "Open it, Elias. Open it and set me free."
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Elias hesitated, his hands hovering over the box. There was something about it that felt… wrong. The air around him seemed to grow colder, and the shadows in the garden loomed closer, their shapes twisting and shifting in the moonlight.
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"What’s inside?" he asked, his voice barely audible.
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"Freedom," the stone replied. "For you, for me, for the garden. Open it, Elias. It’s the only way."
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Elias’s fingers trembled as he reached for the lid. The whispers swirled around him, growing louder and more urgent, until they were all he could hear. His breath came in short, shallow gasps as he pried the lid open, his heart pounding in his chest.
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And then… darkness.
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To be continued...
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