Chapter 4 The First Bloom

# Chapter 4: The First Bloom Thomas began working in the garden the next morning. He cleared weeds, pruned dead branches, and prepared the soil for replanting. As he worked, he noticed that certain areas of the garden seemed warmer than others, despite the cold weather. In one corner, a patch of snow melted overnight, revealing soil that was dark and rich. "That's odd," he muttered, kneeling to examine the ground. The soil was moist and smelled faintly of copper. Blood. He dismissed it as coincidence — perhaps a buried pipe had leaked. But that night, he dreamed of roses. Not ordinary roses — enormous crimson blooms with thorns like daggers, their petals dripping with something dark and viscous. He woke with a start, his sheets soaked in sweat. The dream felt real — too real. He could still smell the roses, still feel the thorns digging into his palms. "Just stress," he told himself. "New job, new environment. It'll pass."