Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 136: Chapter 131: The Herb Garden

Location: Pavilion - Botanical Garden

Time: Day 509/207 (Subjective/Actual)

Realm: Starforge Pavilion (Personal Dimension)

The corridors changed as they walked.

Crystal walls gave way to living wood—actual bark texture beneath Jayde’s fingers when she touched them in passing. Vines crept up architectural features that shouldn’t support organic growth, leaves rustling in air that had been still moments before.

The smell hit first. Growing things. Rich earth and green life and something else—something that made her lungs expand fuller, easier.

”This section was locked for over a thousand years,” Isha said, tails swishing with barely contained excitement. ”Your contractor advancement—and your worthiness—opened it. Each tier unlocks new areas, but some... some wait for the right person.”

Made sense. The Pavilion responded to growth, rewarded progress with access. Federation facilities worked similarly—higher clearance, deeper access, better resources.

They turned a corner and stopped.

Where blank wall had stood yesterday, ornate wood now materialized. Rich dark timber—ironwood maybe, or something cultivated across dimensions. Carvings covered every inch: leaves, flowers, vines intertwining in patterns that seemed to shift when she wasn’t looking directly at them. Some plants she recognized from Doha’s forests. Others looked completely alien.

A brass handle shaped like a curled fern gleamed with green patina.

Above the door, flowing script declared: Botanical Garden. Cultivated with Care. Honor the Green.

”Ready?” Isha placed one translucent paw on the handle.

(What’s behind there?)

Unknown facility. Proceed with caution.

But Isha’s expression carried none of his usual sarcasm—just pure, genuine enthusiasm.

”Ready,” Jayde said.

The door swung open.

The BLAST of scent actually made her stagger back.

Fresh mint cooling her sinuses. Lavender calming something tight in her chest. Rich earth grounding her feet. Citrus notes energizing. Floral sweetness from a dozen different sources. And underneath it all—green. Growing. Life itself concentrated into breathable form.

She took a shaky breath. Another. Her eyes adjusted to the light spilling through the doorway.

”Oh...”

Couldn’t say more. Too much to process.

Ten acres spread before her.

Impossible. Spatial dimensions don’t—

(But they do. We’re standing in it.)

Not possible from the outside. Another spatial expansion, like the dragon sanctuary being built in parallel space. Sky stretched overhead—artificial but perfect. Warm sun. Gentle breeze carrying a hundred different fragrances.

Everything ALIVE. Everything THRIVING.

A main path of crushed stone stretched ahead, branching into organized sections. She could see for hundreds of meters—paradise of plants extending further than should fit in any building.

”Previous contractor spent over a century here,” Isha said quietly, walking beside her down the main path. ”Collected specimens from across dimensions over a lifetime of five hundred years. Some species are extinct in their origin worlds—this garden may hold the only surviving specimens in existence. It’s...” He paused, searching for words. ”A priceless archive. Both practically and historically.”

Jayde’s tactical mind tried categorizing. Systematizing. Making sense of the overwhelming abundance.

To their left: medicinal section. Three full acres of healing plants organized by function.

Healing moss beds sprawled in bright green carpets, springy under nearby footsteps. ”Absorbs blood, promotes clotting,” Isha explained. ”Common but essential. Ten points per basket.”

Silver-green leaves grew in neat rows, cool to touch even from a distance. ”Fever reduction. Five points per bunch.”

Ugly twisted roots that smelled bitter: ”Anti-poison. Twenty points each—cheap considering they neutralize most common toxins.”

White flowers with gold centers: ”Bone-mending. Fifteen points per flower. Expensive for commons because they actually work.”

The rare varieties made her breath catch.

Flame-red grass that moved like fire itself. ”Phoenix feather grass,” Isha said reverently. ”Inferno affinity enhancement. One hundred points per stalk. This is genuinely rare, Jayde. Most gardens never see it.”

Roots that felt warm when she knelt to examine them closer. Smoky aroma. ”Dragon’s breath root. Cultivation breakthrough aid. Two hundred fifty each. Very few gardens have these growing wild.”

A pond section held blooming lotus flowers that seemed to glow with internal moonlight. ”Only bloom at night,” Isha explained. ”Torrent cultivation boost. One fifty per flower.”

Silver thistle with crystalline spikes: ”Mental clarity enhancement. Prevents Qi deviation. One fifty because it’s expensive but necessary for anyone pushing their cultivation hard.”

(All this... just growing here?)

Resource assessment: Substantial wealth in natural form. Strategic value high.

To their right: culinary and alchemical section. Two acres of organized chaos—multiple basil varieties, seven different types of thyme, sage for both cooking and spiritual work, rosemary, mint families spreading in controlled beds.

”Binding agents, catalysts, stabilizers,” Isha pointed out labeled sections. ”Everything needed for potion-making. And here—” He gestured to another area with barely contained glee. ”Qi-infused spices. Cultivation enhancement through food. Cooking becomes cultivation.”

Saffron that glowed faint red. Ginger with blue undertones. Turmeric that pulsed green. Pepper that seemed to shimmer.

”Previous contractor was a genius,” Isha said simply.

Further back: magical reagents organized by element. Inferno corner with red and orange plants in fire-resistant containers. Torrent area misted constantly with blue and silver specimens. Verdant section exploding with green diversity. Voidshadow corner with dark plants thriving in manufactured shadow. Each element represented, each section carefully maintained.

(Someone loved this place)

Observation: Extensive personal investment evident. Decades of cultivation and care.

They walked for twenty minutes just surveying the main sections. Trees and perennials in another area—spiritual fruit trees centuries old, medicinal bark specimens, essence-producing flowering trees that bloomed in careful cycles.

An experimental section held what Isha explained were crossbreeding attempts. Some failed but preserved for study. Some succeeded, creating entirely new species. Notes left behind documented everything with scientific precision.

And in the center of it all: a small building. Weathered wood exterior showing no rot, no age damage despite obvious centuries of existence. Magical preservation formations visible as faint glowing lines in the structure itself.

The garden shed.

The door stood slightly ajar.

”After you,” Isha said.

Jayde stepped inside and froze.

Bigger inside than outside—another spatial expansion. PACKED wall-to-wall with shelving systems reaching from floor to ceiling. Wooden crates stacked with military precision. Clay jars labeled in neat handwriting. Glass bottles gleaming in perfect rows. Dried bundles hanging from rafters like botanical stalactites.

Hundreds of specimens. All preserved perfectly under active stasis formations.

Each item labeled: plant name in both common and scientific notation, harvest date, quality grade, storage requirements, usage notes, market value estimate.

She walked down the first aisle with growing disbelief. Some plants she recognized from her books. Many completely unknown. But the dates—

”Harvested 1,345 years ago.”

”Collected 1,512 years ago.”

”Dried 1,689 years ago.”

All still perfect. As if picked yesterday.

”How long was the contractor here?” she asked, voice barely above whisper.

”Left thirteen hundred years ago,” Isha said quietly. ”These are even older—collected over five centuries before contracting the artifact. A lifetime’s work spanning half a millennium, all brought here. And when he died...” His tails drooped slightly. ”The stasis formations triggered automatically. Everything preserved. The entire garden section sealed, waiting for someone worthy. Over a thousand years of waiting.”

A small desk occupied one corner, covered in papers. A leather-bound journal sat prominently in the center.

Isha picked it up carefully. ”Inventory master log. Previous contractor was meticulous.” He handed it to her. ”See for yourself.”

Jayde opened to the first page.

Complete Garden Inventory. Updated Quarterly.

Last entry: thirteen hundred years ago.

She began reading.

Summary Page:

847 individual herb specimens Organized by category, rarity, quality grade, quantity Total estimated value: 78,450 points

Her hands shook slightly.

”By all the gods...” The whisper escaped involuntarily. ”This is a fortune.”

She flipped through detailed entries:

Ancient Moonflower x8. Quality: Exceptional. Harvested 1,423 years ago. Market value: 500 points each = 4,000 total. Notes: ”Peak bloom preservation. Rare opportunity.”

Dragon’s Breath Root x12. Quality: Superior. Various dates. Market value: 250 each = 3,000 total. Notes: ”From Dragon Realm. Risky acquisition.”

Void Orchid petals (dried) x50. Quality: Pristine. Harvested 1,689 years ago. Market value: 200 per petal = 10,000 total. Notes: ”Life’s greatest find. Will never sell.”

Page after page. Each entry detailed, personal, caring.

Then she found the personal reflections scattered throughout.

Entry 1 (1,520 years ago): ”Today I contracted the Divine Tome. The artifact called to me in a dream. I’ve spent my life studying plants—perhaps this is why. The garden here is abandoned, overgrown, dying. Previous contractor cared nothing for it. I will fix this. I will make it live again.”

Her throat tightened.

Entry 50 (1,480 years ago): ”Successfully revived the Millennium Ginseng! Previous contractors nearly killed it through neglect. It took forty years of careful tending, but today I saw new root growth. I wept with joy. Some lives are worth saving, no matter how long it takes.”

(They understood)

Entry 203 (1,350 years ago): ”The garden is thriving now. I’ve added seventeen new species this year alone. The Void Orchid finally bloomed—I stood and watched for six hours straight. Worth every moment. Plants don’t betray you. They don’t lie. They simply... are. There’s peace in that.”

(We’re the same)

Entry 389 (1,315 years ago): ”I’m old now. Body failing. But the garden is immortal. I’ve done everything I can to preserve it. Whoever comes next—please. PLEASE care for them. They’re living things, deserving respect. Don’t harvest everything and abandon them. Don’t let my life’s work die. Please.”

Tears blurred the final entry.

Final Entry (1,300 years ago): ”I can feel death approaching. Strange—not afraid. I’ll become part of the earth, like the plants I’ve tended. To whoever inherits this: be kind to them. They’re not just resources. They’re LIVES. Honor that. I beg you.”

(I wish I could have met you)

”After he died,” Isha said softly, ”three contractors came over the next century. Each harvested aggressively. Sold everything, replanted nothing. The garden nearly died again—twelve hundred years ago, the artifact locked this section completely. Went into stasis waiting for someone worthy.” He looked at her directly, golden eyes serious. ”Over a thousand years of waiting, Jayde. The garden chose YOU. You GROW things. You understand.”

Jayde closed the journal carefully. Set it down with reverence.

Thirteen hundred years. Over a millennium of preservation, of waiting. The contractor had died begging the future to care for their life’s work, and the garden had waited—through three abusive contractors, through centuries of sealed darkness, through over a thousand years of stasis—for someone who would understand.

For her.

The weight of it settled in her chest. Not burden—responsibility. Honor.

”Let’s plant the Afeaso,” she said, voice rough. ”Properly.”

***

They chose a spot in the legendary section. Perfect soil enriched with centuries of care. Optimal Qi density. Jayde knelt, preparing the bed with hands that knew exactly how to work earth—muscle memory from Telia returning.

She planted each seed with precision. With care.

(Grow strong here)

Like you helped me grow.

Water from a magical spring—pure, perfect temperature. She whispered the blessing almost unconsciously:

”Thank you for saving Yinxin. Thank you for giving me purpose. Grow well, little ones.”

Isha watched in silence. Then: ”Previous contractor would like you.”

***

”Let me show you something,” Isha said, pulling up a holographic interface.

Garden System Status

Level 1: Basic Preservation

- Time dilation: 1:1 (none)

- Qi infusion: Minimal

- Harvest: Manual only

- Growth rate: Normal

- Maintenance: Manual required

”This explains why previous contractor spent so much time here,” Jayde murmured. Everything manual. Every plant requiring personal attention.

”Level 2 costs 1,500 points,” Isha said. ”Gives you time dilation—ten to one. Ten days inside equals one day outside. Moderate Qi infusion. Semi-automated harvest. Enhanced growth rate. Mostly automated maintenance.”

Jayde checked her points: 9,510 remaining after the dragon sanctuary purchase.

”Do it.”

The garden GLOWED as the upgrade applied. She could actually FEEL the Qi density increase around them. Plants visibly perked up, colors brightening subtly.

Time dilation activated. The Afeaso seedlings she’d just planted—they’d mature in about eighteen days outside time instead of two years.

Worth every point.

”Level 3 costs 3,000,” Isha continued. ”Fifteen-to-one dilation. High Qi infusion. Fully automated harvest and preservation. Double normal growth rate. And...” He paused significantly. ”Selective breeding enabled. You could continue previous contractor’s hybridization work.”

She’d have over five thousand points left even after both upgrades. Sustainable. Smart investment.

”Let’s do Level 3 too,” Jayde said. ”Right now.”

Isha’s eyes widened. ”You’re sure?”

”The garden waited over a thousand years for someone who’d care properly. I’m not going to half-ass it now.”

His grin was pure approval. ”Purchase confirmed.”

The garden transformed again. The Qi density nearly doubled—she could feel it pressing against her skin like warm pressure. Plants seemed to straighten, colors deepening further. The time dilation shift was almost disorienting, like reality briefly stuttered.

POINTS: 8,010 → 5,010

Fifteen-to-one. The Afeaso seedlings would mature in just over a week outside time. Rare herbs that normally took years would grow in months. The breeding experiments could continue, generations compressed into manageable timeframes.

”Now,” Isha said, expression shifting to something almost predatory—fox-sharp and business-focused. ”We need to talk about maintaining and growing this wealth. Let me manage the trading.”

He pulled up another interface—the interdimensional market. Fifteen active dimensions. Thousands of buyers. Real-time supply and demand fluctuations scrolling past faster than she could track.

”This is full-time work,” he said seriously. ”You need to focus on cultivation, missions, training, survival. Let me handle the business side.” Hesitation. Rare vulnerability. ”I’ve been doing this for millennia. Every contractor I’ve served, I managed their trades. Built fortunes. And honestly?” His voice softened. ”I LOVE this. I’m support role, not warrior. But I’m damn good at support. Let me do what I do best.”

Delegation: Strategically sound. Isha demonstrates expertise. Accept support.

(Trust)

Let others help.

”Okay,” she said. ”You manage the trading. I trust you.”

Isha’s genuine smile transformed his usually sarcastic expression. ”I won’t disappoint.”

His fingers danced over the interface immediately, muttering to himself. ”Stock levels here... market analysis there... oh, Dimension 7 needs healing herbs, perfect timing...”

PING.

A hologram notification appeared.

SALE COMPLETED

50 points earned

Fever-reducing leaves x10

Buyer: Dimension 3, Healer’s Guild

Another ping.

SALE COMPLETED

150 points earned

Dragon’s Breath Root

Buyer: Dimension 12, Cultivation Sect

Isha grinned. ”And so it begins.”

Within five minutes: six more sales. 480 points total.

”Conservative estimate with Level 3 garden,” Isha said, still working. ”Three to five thousand points per week minimum. Within a month, as rare herbs mature and our reputation grows, could hit eight thousand weekly. That’s over thirty thousand per month. Sustainable passive income that doesn’t touch your existing reserves.”

(Financial security)

Real, lasting security.

(Can afford to take any risk now)

Can afford to HELP people freely.

(No more choosing between food and safety)

No more survival mode only.

Tears threatened. She blinked them back but Isha saw.

He paused his frantic interface work. ”Jayde. You’ll never be that powerless again. I promise you. You have wealth now—five thousand points in reserve, dragons safe, herb garden generating thousands more weekly. The artifact provides. The garden provides. You’ve earned this security.”

Simple statement. But it meant everything.

She stood, walked back to the shed, touched the journal again.

”Be kind to them,” she whispered, reading the plea one more time.

”I promise. I’ll honor what you built. I’ll continue your work. Thank you for this gift.”

For just a moment, she felt something—like a presence approving. Peaceful. Satisfied.

Connection to the garden itself, maybe. Or just her imagination.

Didn’t matter which.

Jayde walked back outside, stood in the center of the medicinal section. Closed her eyes.

She could FEEL it. Hundreds of plants, each one growing. Each one thriving. Life radiating in concentric circles around her like Qi but different—organic, patient, enduring.

(This is what peace feels like)

Not emptiness. Fullness.

(Life, not death)

Growth, not destruction.

Environmental analysis: Optimal conditions. Sustainable resource generation. Strategic value: Immeasurable.

(We’re part of this now)

We belong here.

For the first time since waking in this world with two souls and impossible memories, Jayde felt it completely:

Home.

Not the cave. Not even the Pavilion as a whole.

Here. Among growing things that asked nothing except care. That gave freely when tended properly. That didn’t betray or lie or hurt.

They simply were.

And so was she.

”Thank you,” she said to the air, to the memory of a contractor who’d loved plants more than people, who’d understood that sometimes green peace was the only peace possible, whose garden had waited over a thousand years for someone who would care again.

Behind her, Isha’s trading notifications continued pinging. Wealth accumulating. Future securing.

Above her, an artificial sun warmed leaves that had waited thirteen centuries for gentle hands.

Around her, life. Everywhere. Thriving.

In forty-eight hours, dragons would fly in their sanctuary.

But right now, in a garden inherited from someone who’d begged the future to be kind, in a space that had waited over a millennium for worthy hands, Jayde stood among herbs that didn’t judge and finally—finally—let herself breathe.

The journey continued.

But she’d found something worth protecting.

Worth growing.

Worth calling home.