Chapter 2-Soil and Signals
1184 Words
Mira
Mira woke up before her alarm, the silence unnaturally loud.
It wasn't just the strange clarity in her muscles or the absence of bruises where pain should've bloomed-it was a feeling that something had shifted, like the soil beneath her life had tilted a few degrees off center.
She padded barefoot to the kitchen, flicking on the kettle and staring out at the cloudy sky. Rain still streaked the windowpanes, casting soft shadows across the ivy she coaxed to grow indoors. The plants felt restless. Or maybe she did.
Her sketchbook lay open on the table, revealing last night's impromptu: Lucien's face rendered in soft graphite. She didn't remember deciding to draw him-just the ache in her fingers until she did.
"You're being ridiculous," she said under her breath, sweeping her curls into a messy bun. "Stranger crashes into you and suddenly you're sketching his cheekbones like a lovesick cartoonist."
Yet she couldn't shake it-the calm in his voice, the way he looked at her like he recognized something. And that bruise...
She rolled up her sleeve again. Still nothing.
As the kettle whined, she grabbed her phone. One missed call from Elena, her best friend, probably checking on her post-collision drama. Mira hesitated, then opened her browser instead and typed:
Lucien Vale and ancestral bloodlines
No results. Just tech articles and paparazzi shots with vague captions about his reclusive nature.
Disappointed, she closed the tab and switched gears, pulling up her latest greenhouse project notes. She had a donor presentation to prep for- someone from ValeTech's environmental division, oddly enough. It was probably a coincidence.
Probably.
She poured her tea and stared at her plants again. Their leaves curled slightly toward her- strange behavior this early.
Mira frowned.
Something was stirring. In her greenhouse. In her research. In her blood.
And she had a feeling Lucien Vale was just the beginning.
Later the same day in the conference room at Greencore Nonprofit smelled faintly of recycled air, wilted tulips and nervous ambition.
Mira adjusted the collar of her linen blouse, the sleeves rolled neatly to her elbows- the armor for her arms. Behind her, her presentation blinked to life: Botanical Regeneration in Urban Ecosystems. The title felt clinical. Her research was anything but.
As she spoke, her voice found rhythm: the mycorrhizal networks she studied, how certain plant species responded differently when grown near ley lines anomalies, the potential applications for hearing polluted land.
Midway through her explanation of bioluminescent moss, the door opened quietly.
She didn't flinch- until she caught the scent.
Clean rain. Petrichtor and heat. Her heart stuttered.
Lucien Vale slipped inside, flanked by two Vale Tech suits who looked as though plants personally offended them. Lucien's gaze swepted the room, and when it landed on Mira, it didn't move.
She faltered. Just for a second. Enough for her to tremble over the remote.
"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "Must be a signal disruption."
Lucien sat, expression unreadable. His presence was a pardox- stifling yet electriying. She refused to acknowledge the sketch tucked into her bag, the way her dreams were warped after the collision.
When the presentation ended, polite applause fluttered around the room. Mira stepped aside, gathering her note, hoping no noticed her flushed cheeks.
Lucien approached slowly, hands in his pockets, voice quiet enough to draw her attention without demanding it.
"That was ..... unexpectedly impressive." His eyes flicked to the display. "Your theory about botanical memory and supernatural energy- is not just science, is it?"
Mira hesitated, studying him. "I don't chase myths, Mr. Vale. I observe patterns."
"Some patterns run deeper than science," he said, voice like velvet over gravel.
She didn't reply. Couldn't. Not with his presence tugging at something that was half-buried inside her.
"You didn't call," she mumered, barely audible.
Lucien's smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "You never gave me your number."
She should've walked away. Politely. Professionally. With her integrity intact and her heartbeat unbothered.
Instead, Mira stared at Lucien Vale like he stepped out of a dream she didn't remember having until yesterday.
"So, what exactly does Vale Tech want with Urban soil?" she asked, arms folded, voice steady-but her palm itched where his hand touched earlier.
Lucien's smile was quiet. Calculated. "Healing it. Protecting it. Reclaiming something ancient in the process."
His gaze lingered on the moss samples projected on the screen-flecks of green glowing like constellations.
"You mean marketing it," Mira said flatly. "Because this sounds like the kind of 'greenwashing' execs pull when they want good press."
Lucien tilted his head, the ghost of amusement flickering in his steel-gray eyes. "Or we're after something less conveniental."
Mira narrowed her eyes.
"Like ley line energy? Botanical memory? Because the last I checked, that's not a part of any tech initiative....unless you're running an experimental division I don't know about."
A beat. A breath.
Lucien stepped closer, voice lowering.
"Would you take funding if there were no strings? No branding? Just....access to better equipment. Discretion. Time."
Mira's instincts flared. She didn't trust easy promises. But something about him made her feel like the world opened sideways and she was standing in a doorway she didn't remember unlocking.
"Why me?" she asked.
Lucien's answer came after a slow inhale, like he was weighing the truth and the consequences of saying it aloud.
"Because your research might stabilize something unstable in me."
Her breath caught. In his eyes, she flickers of memory and mystery- and her face sketched in shadows she'd hadn't known were watching.
Back at the nonprofit, the wind had calmed, but the greenhouse buzzed with a kind of hush-like nature holding its breath.
Mira stepped inside and locked the door behind her. Her breath fogged the glass briefly before fading into the dimness. She hadn't turned on the overhead lights; she didn't need to. The bioluminescent moss on the western wall glowed faintly, casting green shadows across her workbench and the sleeping stems.
She came here to think. To reset. But tonight, the quiet felt too still- like someone pressed pause on the world.
She checked her elbow again. Still no bruise. No ache. Just warmth beneath her skin, almost pulsing now.
Her fingers drifted to the nearest pot-a sprig of lunar fern she'd been nuturing for weeks. It refused to bloom. But tonight, as she hovered, its leaves trembled.
And then it opened.
A silver blossom unfurled in slow motion, it's petals glistening with dew that hadn't existed moments ago. Mira jerked back, heart thudding.
"Okay....what the hell?"
She reached for her notebook and recorded everything- temperature, soil pH, humidity. Nothing has changed.
Expect her.
She turned towards the moss wall. It had darkened slightly. Almost like it was listening.
The greenhouse always been her haven. Her logic lab. But tonight it felt sentient, responsive... waiting.
Her phone buzzed.
Lucien Vale-Unknown Number
She stared at it, pulse skimming higher.
She didn't answer.
But she didn't turn it off either.
Instead, she whispered to the fern, voice trembling. "What are you trying to tell me?"
And the petals shivered once more-like memory surfacing from soil.
- Writer
