CHAPTER 5

6

Aria and I navigated our way through the cloud garden, an expanse divided into six distinct sections, each denoted by the cardinal directions. The north, southeast, northwest, southwest, east, and west—each realm unique in its own right. The garden's layout mirrored the library but surpassed it in size, connected by broad pavements and imbued with an ethereal charm.

Our journey brought us toward the southwest section. The pavements led the way, branching off toward four different regions.

Notably, to access the southern section, we diverged from the main path. This route held an intriguing quality—it wasn't as illuminated as the other areas, instead enveloped in a subtle haze that draped it in an enigmatic allure. The color palette of this domain, a deep and endless dark green, painted the space with an air of mystery.

I suspected the garden's ability to control weather was at play here, casting a shroud of change over each section.

Despite the veiled sky above, the ground remained discernible. Intriguing tree-like plants sprung forth at the entrance, their myriad forms and sizes an enchanting sight.

In the southwest, a grove of trees greeted us, their heights and spacing creating a picturesque tableau.

Amidst the array of arboreal beauty, one tree stood as a sentinel, towering above the rest. It exuded a commanding presence, a ruler amongst its brethren. An aurora of light illuminated it from above, casting a dance of luminous curtains through the clouded atmosphere. This tree demanded attention, its roots curving outward in a testament to its vitality.

As we ventured closer, a greenhouse unveiled itself beneath the canopy of this majestic tree. The structure mimicked a tree's shape, its form nestling seamlessly against its botanical counterpart.

Nestled atop a gentle slope, the greenhouse stood adorned with vibrant flowering patches, a testament to nature's artistic palette.

A glass slide door beckoned at the base of a cylindrical structure, framed by a mosaic of glass screens in varying sizes and configurations.

The greenhouse's architecture blended accessibility with security, its open-air design coexisting harmoniously with its air-tight construction.

Upon entering, a familiar sight greeted us—a figure poised in thought atop wooden stairs, reminiscent of 'The Thinker.' It was Loy, a white-haired boy with azure eyes, lost in contemplation. My curiosity piqued, I queried, "What are you doing, Loy?"

Loy seemed unaware of his blockade and our presence, but recognition soon dawned as he rose and exclaimed, "Blur, you're back!"

heaved a deep sigh and looked up and down with what appeared to be a dead fish's expression, but at that precise moment, his expression shifted from contemplative to one of relief, as if salvation had arrived in the form of our return.

"You want to know what I'm doing" he exclaimed happily.

"Well, it's not like I really want to know" I said, realizing that what was about to happen wasn't something I wanted to be a part of. But it was too late; he kept going despite my ignorance.

I silently muttered, "Here he goes again," as I disregarded his tributes and went to the greenhouse.

"I looked for the ideal subject for my drawing, but they all seemed to have been done before, and none of them seemed to capture the essence of what it means to be perfect, so I thought, if I want to draw a perfect piece, why don't I become the perfect piece? So I wandered around looking for the ideal location for drawing and ended up in the greenhouse, and that's when it dawned on me. I'm on my own to draw it because I lost my sense of craftsmanship and, sadly, fell into the abyss…"

His voice carried throughout the entire greenhouse, resembling a priest reciting a sutra.

Loy's words flowed, a river of musings that wove through the space.

Meanwhile, the greenhouse unfolded in a tapestry of vibrant vegetation. The atmosphere was humid, the temperature somewhat cooler than the outside world.

A multitude of plants graced the space, their diverse colors and forms arranged in a harmonious dance. Some shimmered like precious gems under the gentle light, their brilliance a testament to nature's artistry.

An adjacent wooden cabin held fresh produce, fruit, vegetables, and grains—all nestled beside one another in welcoming harmony.

With a swift exploration of the offerings, Aria and I procured the ingredients we needed.

Emerging from the greenhouse, we found Loy stretched out on the grass, the voice of his contemplative chant now absent.

Distributing the ingredients, I beckoned, "There you are, help us carry this." Loy's response was marked by a hint of sadness, a complaint against the lack of attention.

Nevertheless, he accepted the task, shouldering the burden of ingredients as we departed for our picnic area.

7

As we reached the chosen spot for our impromptu picnic, the scene felt oddly familiar.

Lily and Lia sat upon white sheets sprawled against the lush green grass, mirroring our previous rendezvous.

Yet, subtle differences emerged—logs of wood branches flanked the sheets, casting an air of rustic charm, and an additional figure joined our company, emanating an aura of despondency.

It was apparent that we couldn't entirely hold him accountable for his state.

His struggle was a shared experience, one that linked us all in a web of understanding and compassion.

As I spoke up, "We're back," Aria placed the collection of ingredients beside the white sheet.

The response was swift, accompanied by a slightly melancholic tone, "Oh... welcome back. It was shorter than I anticipated."

Aria's reply prompted a quizzical look from me.

"What did you think I went to do?" I questioned, curiosity dancing in my eyes.

Her response hinted at a sense of time warped by anticipation. "I see that your numbers have grown," Lia observed, a playful hint in her voice. Turning my head, I followed her gaze to find him approaching. Running like an eager student towards his favorite teacher, he appeared both earnest and forlorn.

His arrival at the sheets was marked by a sudden halt, his form sinking into a kneel.

In a voice strangled by emotion, he stammered, "H-hear this... Blur, he ignored me." Lily's response was tender and maternal, a nurturing embrace offered with open arms and a soothing tone.

She cradled him against her chest, her voice a lullaby of reassurance accompanied by an endearing smile.

In his eyes, she likely appeared as a guardian angel, a symbol of unwavering support.

As the tears ebbed, a different atmosphere took hold.

A profound intensity radiated from behind Aliza, a force that demanded attention.

His gaze followed the source of this burgeoning aura to Lia, whose expression held a clear warning: "Cease this behavior or face the consequences." It was a glance laden with a quiet threat, one that bespoke the dynamics and complexities of their interactions.

The scene encapsulated the intricacies of our shared dynamics—moments of solace, camaraderie, and unspoken tensions.

Aria and I had returned to a tableau enriched by the presence of those who knew us, understood us, and sometimes challenged us. It was a snapshot of our shared life within the enigmatic cloud garden, where relationships intertwined and flourished in the midst of our extraordinary circumstances.