After the momentous call with his father, Leo felt a profound sense of forward momentum. His business wasn't just a solo hustle anymore; it was becoming a family enterprise. Fueled by adrenaline and excitement, he crushed a workout at the gym, then made his daily trip to the Sanctum.
He spent a blissful hour tending his garden, marveling at the vibrant life springing from the dark soil. Today, however, he had a different goal. He had received a gift from this place—a seemingly endless well of opportunity and health. And while he couldn't thank the forest directly, he could thank its inhabitants. Or, at least, its guardians.
He carefully harvested a small, perfect selection of his finest produce: three flawless, crimson tomatoes; two crisp heads of deep green lettuce; and four of the most vibrant, perfectly-formed orange carrots. He arranged them in a small, sturdy basket he'd woven from fallen vines. This felt far more appropriate than his own canvas bag. It was time to make a proper offering.
He walked towards the Living Gate, his heart thumping with a nervous rhythm. He was grateful they had left him alone, but he still felt like an intruder, a stranger profiting from their sacred space. This gift was a small gesture of peace, of gratitude.
In his high chamber, Lord Arion watched the scrying pool intently. The human—the Gardener, as he now thought of him—was approaching the Living Gate. In his hands, he carried a basket filled with the first fruits of his labor on their sacred soil.
"He is coming," Arion's voice echoed in the minds of the three guardians, a ripple of pure thought. "He carries an offering. Assume your positions. Do not engage unless he initiates. Receive what he gives. Be as stone, but be respectful."
Instantly, Lyra, Elara, and Valerius, who had been cautiously observing the garden from a distance, sped back to the gate. They settled onto their meditation stones just as Leo cleared the last copse of trees, resuming their facade of serene, motionless contemplation.
Leo saw them as he approached, sitting just as he remembered, like beautiful, living statues. He slowed, his palms growing sweaty. He took a deep breath and walked into the clearing before the gate, stopping a respectful twenty feet away.
He set the basket on the ground, then gave a small, slightly awkward bow. He didn't know the proper custom for interacting with ethereal elven beings, but it felt right.
As he straightened up, the three elves opened their eyes in unison. They did not look at him with confusion or fear, but with an expression of profound, soul-deep respect. It was the look one gives to a revered and ancient creator. It completely unnerved Leo.
He gestured to the basket. "A gift," he said, his voice quiet. He knew they wouldn't understand the word, but hoped the intent was clear.
Valerius, the stoic male elf, rose gracefully. His movements were so fluid they seemed to defy friction. He approached Leo, and for the first time, Leo saw one of them up close. He was stunningly handsome, with features so perfectly sculpted he could have been a marble masterpiece. The thought flickered through Leo's mind, absurd and unbidden: Wow. If he made a pass at me, I'm not sure I'd say no. And I'm not even into guys.
Valerius stopped before the basket, bowed his head deeply to Leo, and picked it up. He held it as if it were a holy relic. The animals of the Sanctum—sacred spirits in their own right—had eaten from the Gardener's plot, signifying that the offerings were blessed. To be offered them directly was an immense honor. He turned without a word and presented the basket to his companions.
But as he moved, Leo's gaze slid past him and met the eyes of the female guardian on the left, Elara.
And the world fell away.
Her eyes were molten silver, but they held galaxies of ancient wisdom and a startling, intense presence. She was beautiful in a way that transcended simple aesthetics; it was a beauty that radiated from her very essence, like the light from a star. A jolt, sharp and electric, shot through Leo's chest. His heart hammered, not from fear, but from a sudden, overwhelming sense of… connection. It was as if a dormant part of his soul had just been struck by lightning. He forgot to breathe.
He had seen pretty women before. Jessica, the disastrous blind date, was conventionally gorgeous. But this was different. This elven woman didn't just look beautiful; she was beauty. After seeing her, Leo had the distinct and troubling feeling that all the women back on Earth would seem like faded, black-and-white photographs in comparison.
Elara held his gaze, her own serene composure momentarily shaken. She saw not the Gardener, not the ancient creator, but a young man with wide, startled brown eyes, radiating an aura of such raw, untamed potential it was staggering. It was like looking at a thunderstorm contained in human form.
The moment stretched, thick with unspoken intensity.
It was too much for Leo. He felt raw, exposed. With a final, mesmerized glance at Elara, he did the only thing he could do. He vanished.
The portal snapped shut, leaving the three elves standing in the silent Sanctum. The air still crackled from his departure.
Valerius looked at the basket of perfect vegetables. Lyra looked at the empty space where the human had stood.
But Elara was still staring at that spot, her hand unconsciously rising to her chest, where her own heart was beating with a rhythm it hadn't known in centuries. The Gardener had given them a gift, but he had taken something from her in return: her peace.