Lord Arion observed the final moments of the encounter through his scrying pool, his ancient mind processing every detail. He saw the gift. He saw the profound respect in his Guardians' postures. And he most certainly saw the lingering, charged gaze between the human and Elara.
When the portal vanished, he summoned all three Guardians to his chamber. They arrived in silence, Valerius placing the basket of offerings on a stone pedestal in the center of the room. The vegetables seemed to hum with a quiet, vibrant energy, their colors shockingly vivid even in the soft light of the Druid's Grove.
"He made an offering," Elara stated, her voice steady, betraying none of the turmoil she felt inside.
"The first harvest," Arion murmured, his eyes fixed on a perfect, crimson tomato. "We have seen him consume these plants himself, with no ill effect. It is only right that we honor his gift by partaking."
With a wave of his gnarled hand, a single silver knife appeared on the pedestal. Valerius, as the one who had accepted the gift, had the honor. He carefully sliced one of the carrots into four equal pieces. The crunch was crisp and clean, and a fresh, earthy scent filled the air.
Each of them—Arion, Elara, Lyra, and Valerius—took a piece. As they chewed, a collective, silent understanding passed between them. The flavor was exquisite, a pure and potent essence of 'carrot' that was far beyond anything grown outside the dome. But more than that, there was the effect.
For the three younger elves, it was a subtle, pleasant warmth behind the eyes, a slight sharpening of their already perfect vision. But for Lord Arion, whose ancient body was beginning to feel the gentle decay of millennia, the effect was more pronounced. The faint cloudiness that had begun to plague his far-vision for the last century seemed to recede, if only for a moment. It was a minuscule improvement, but it was an improvement nonetheless—something his own powerful restorative magic had failed to achieve.
"Incredible," Lyra whispered, her eyes wide. "These are not just plants. They are conduits for the Sanctum's life-force."
"Indeed," Arion said, his gaze thoughtful. "His world's seeds, planted in our world's soil, watered with the Wellspring's gift. It has created something new. Something potent." He picked up a tomato, feeling its strange, solid vitality. "These creations hold properties of restoration. Minor, perhaps, but undeniable."
He set the tomato down and his wise old eyes fell upon Elara. She stood stoically, but he could see the subtle disturbance in her aura, like a still pond after a stone has been dropped into it.
"He looked at you, Elara," the Grand Druid said, his voice soft but clear. "For a long time. There was... a connection."
Elara's composure faltered. She looked down, her silvery hair masking her expression. "I do not know what it was, my Lord."
"I think he fancies you," Arion stated simply, cutting through the elven tendency for poetic subtlety.
Valerius and Lyra looked at Elara with renewed interest. Romantic entanglements were rare and quiet affairs in their long lives, but a potential courtship with the being they believed to be the primordial creator of their most sacred place? That was the stuff of foundational myths.
"It is an opportunity," the Druid continued, his mind seeing a path forward. "We cannot communicate with him through words. Our languages are worlds apart. But actions… actions speak a universal tongue." He looked pointedly at Elara. "You should approach him. But with the utmost care and respect. Show him he is welcome. We must learn more."
He then looked past them, his gaze seeming to pierce the very walls of his chamber, out toward the city of Silverwood.
"The Great Tree feels it," he said, a note of awe in his voice. "We have all felt it, but have been too preoccupied to name it. Since the Gardener's arrival—since he began to actively tend to the Sanctum—the ambient magic has grown stronger. The air outside the dome is cleaner, the leaves on the boughs are more vibrant. He is not just cultivating a garden; his very presence is rejuvenating the Wellspring itself. The dome's health is improving."
The implication was staggering. This creature wasn't just maintaining his "garden." He was healing their world. His presence was a blessing.
"Elara," Lord Arion said, his voice firm with purpose. "Go to his plot of earth. Do not hide. Do not feign meditation. Take up one of his strange metal claws and... plant with him. Work beside him. Let him see that we are not just passive observers of his work, but willing participants. Let him see that we honor his creation."