The wind whispered through the jagged peaks of the Vallos Mountains, carrying the promise of a storm. Isla adjusted the strap of her pack and squinted at her map. The markings were faded, nearly illegible after decades of wear, but she was certain she was close.

For years, the Glass Garden had been a myth whispered among botanists and adventurers—a place where plants of crystalline beauty grew, immune to decay. Some said the garden could heal the sick; others claimed it was a portal to another realm. Isla didn’t believe in magic or myths, but she did believe in discovery.

The valley appeared suddenly, like a secret revealed only to the worthy. She scrambled down the rocky path, her boots slipping on loose gravel. When she reached the bottom, the air felt different—thicker, charged with an energy she couldn’t explain.

Then she saw it.

The Glass Garden spread before her like a dream. Trees with branches of translucent emerald reached toward the sky. Flowers with petals of sapphire and ruby swayed in an invisible breeze. The ground sparkled with shards of obsidian-like grass, and a river of liquid silver meandered through the scene, its surface reflecting the shimmering plants.

Isla approached cautiously, her heart pounding. She reached out to touch a flower, expecting it to shatter under her fingers, but it was warm, pliable—alive. When she plucked a petal, the stem emitted a soft chime, like the ringing of a bell.

She placed the petal in her specimen jar and began cataloging the garden. Hours passed as she wandered, her notebook filling with sketches and notes. She almost forgot why she’d come—to forget her grief.

Her mother had been her inspiration, a botanist who had taught her to find wonder in the natural world. But cancer had taken her months ago, leaving Isla adrift. This expedition was meant to be her way of moving forward, of finding meaning again.

As the sun dipped behind the mountains, the garden seemed to come alive in a new way. The plants glowed softly, their light illuminating the valley. Isla marveled at the sight, but then she noticed something strange—a figure moving among the trees.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice breaking the eerie stillness.

The figure stopped and turned. It was a man, his clothes faded and patched, his face weathered like old leather. He carried a staff made of crystal, its tip glowing faintly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low but firm.

Isla hesitated. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know this place was—”

“Not forbidden,” he interrupted. “Dangerous.”

The man stepped closer, his sharp blue eyes studying her. “The garden has rules. And it takes what it’s owed.”

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“What do you mean?” Isla asked.

He gestured to the trees. “The Glass Garden isn’t natural. It’s alive in ways you can’t imagine. Every gift it gives comes at a price. And you... you’ve already taken.”

Isla’s stomach dropped as she glanced at the jar in her pack. “I didn’t know.”

“You do now,” the man said. “Leave before it takes more.”

But Isla wasn’t ready to leave. “Wait,” she said. “Why are you here? Who are you?”

The man hesitated, then sighed. “My name is Corwin. I’ve been the garden’s guardian for... a long time. I protect it, and it keeps me alive.”

Isla frowned. “Keeps you alive?”

Corwin nodded. “I came here to find a cure for my wife’s illness. The garden healed her, but it made me its keeper in return. I haven’t aged a day since.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Isla said, though unease prickled at her.

Corwin’s expression darkened. “Eternal life is a prison when you’re bound to this place.”

That night, Isla set up camp near the river, unable to sleep. She kept thinking about Corwin’s warning and the price he had paid. The garden was stunning, yes, but there was something unsettling about its perfection.

The next morning, she awoke to find Corwin sitting near her campfire. He stared at the flames, his expression unreadable.

“Why did you come here?” he asked.

“My mother,” Isla admitted. “She passed away recently. She always talked about this place, but she never found it. I thought... I don’t know, maybe being here would make me feel closer to her.”

Corwin studied her for a moment. “The garden can do many things. It can show you what you want most. But it will take something in return.”

“What do you mean, ‘show me’?”

Instead of answering, Corwin stood and beckoned for her to follow. He led her deeper into the garden, to a clearing where a massive tree stood. Its trunk was pure diamond, its branches heavy with crystal fruit.

“Touch it,” Corwin said.

Isla hesitated but couldn’t resist. When her hand brushed the trunk, the world around her shifted. She was in her childhood home, her mother’s laugh ringing through the air. She turned and saw her mother standing in the kitchen, alive and vibrant.

“Mom?” Isla whispered, tears streaming down her face.

Her mother smiled. “Oh, my darling, I’ve missed you.”

It was perfect—too perfect. Isla’s rational mind fought against the illusion. She stepped back, breaking contact with the tree, and the vision dissolved.

“That’s what it does,” Corwin said. “It gives you what you want most. But it’s not real. And if you stay too long, it will take more than you’re willing to give.”

“What did it take from you?” Isla asked.

Corwin’s face hardened. “My wife. The garden healed her, but she became part of it. Now she’s... everywhere and nowhere.”

Isla felt a surge of anger. “Then why do you stay? Why not destroy it?”

Corwin shook his head. “It’s not that simple. The garden isn’t evil. It’s just... different. And it’s the only thing keeping me alive.”

Over the next few days, Isla wrestled with her choices. She could stay and risk losing herself, or she could leave and carry her grief alone.

In the end, she made her decision. She returned to the great tree and placed her hand on its trunk.

“Take my memories of her,” she said.

The garden responded, its light enveloping her. When it faded, she felt lighter, emptier. She could no longer recall her mother’s face or voice, but the pain was gone.

When she turned, Corwin was watching her, his expression unreadable.

“You paid the price,” he said. “But was it worth it?”

Isla didn’t answer. She packed her things and left the valley, her mind quiet for the first time in months.

Behind her, the Glass Garden continued to shimmer, its beauty undiminished. It had taken her grief—and with it, her most cherished memories.

But it had also given her a chance to start again.