I went to the back of the counter and prepared the glass and the plate for Arum and Aella. As I was preparing, I tried to have a small talk with them: "So, are you Arum, the master of all elves?"
Aella immediately interjected, "Goddess Arum…Thou need to address her with the reverence due a deity!"
Arum raised a hand with a gentle motion that instantly silenced Aella.
"Peace, Aella," she said as her voice was like a soft breeze. "Let the Gardener speak as he willeth. In this place, titles hold no weight against the laws of his soil. Here, I am but a guest."
She turned her mismatched eyes to me, a faint and amused smile playing on her lips. "And thou art the host. 'Arum' is sufficient, Darya."
"Right. Arum, then…What type of coffee do you want?" I handed the menu towards them.
"I shall try this 'Koffi' thou and Aella speakest of," Arum said, her gaze drifting to the menu on the counter. She didn't read it so much as feel the intent behind the words. "But I know not the ways of its preparation. Choose for me, Gardener. Give me the brew that best captures the spirit of this seed."
"The spirit of the seed…" I mused. "Well, if we're talking about the pure taste of the bean, unmasked, it has to be an Espresso. But it's very strong. Or perhaps a pour-over, which brings out the floral and fruity notes; it might be more to your liking."
Arum smiled, the scent of blooming jasmine filling the air as if her mood was good. "Floral and fruity? It seems this dead seed remembers the garden after all. I shall try this 'pour-over'."
I looked at Aella, who was sitting stiffly beside her goddess. "And for you, Aella?"
"The previous one, I had…" she said.
"Coming right up."
I started the process. Grinding the beans for the pour-over released a rich aroma that seemed to merge with the scent Arum naturally exuded. As I poured the hot water, Arum leaned forward, watching the water filter through it.
"It is like rain falling through the canopy," she whispered. "Filtering through the earth to become the river. A simple magic, yet profound."
Arum glanced towards Orla, and asked, "Who is this sapling that clingeth to the wall? Her roots tremble, yet she standeth tall."
"That's Orla Quinn," I answered. "She's the First Commander of the Human Realm. She's here… observing."
"Observing?" Arum turned fully towards Orla. "Nay, she is enduring. The storm of my sister's child hath shaken her deeply."
She didn't move from her seat, yet her presence seemed to expand, wrapping around Orla like a warm, comforting blanket of moss.
"Fear not, little sapling," Arum said softly. "The storm hath passed. Here, the rain is gentle. Thou art safe to unclench thy roots."
Orla let out a shuddering breath, her shoulders dropping inches. She looked at the Goddess with a mixture of awe and confusion. "I… I am honoured, Goddess. I… I did not know…"
"Thou come here, and sit beside us. A sapling cannot grow in the shadow of the wall."
Orla hesitated for a moment, glancing at me. I gave her a reassuring nod. Slowly, she pushed herself off the wall and walked towards the counter. She took the seat next to Aella, who shifted slightly to make room.
"Thank you… Goddess," Orla whispered.
"Raise thy head, Commander," Arum said gently. "In this garden, we are all but guests."
She turned back to me just as I finished the pour. I removed the dripper and placed the ceramic mug in front of her.
"Here you go," I said. "A Pour-over. Pure, unmasked…"
I placed a black coffee in front of Aella, who nodded her thanks silently.
Arum lifted the mug with both hands, treating it more like a chalice than a coffee cup. She inhaled deeply.
"It smelleth of the earth after a long drought," she whispered. "Of hidden berries and sun-warmed wood."
She took a sip. She closed her eyes, savouring the taste. A moment passed, then two.
"… Curious," she whispered, opening her eyes. "It is not sweet like nectar, nor hearty like grain. It is… clear. It washeth over the mind like a cool stream over smooth stones."
She looked at me, her expression one of profound respect.
"Thou wert right, Gardener. This seed has no song of mana… But it has a voice. It speaketh of clarity. Of awakening."
"I take that as a compliment," I said. "So what is the occasion that brings you here?"
"It dependeth entirely on how thou tendest it," Arum said.
She turned slightly, her gaze shifting to Aella. "Aella telleth me thou hast a unique… knowledge, Gardener. She showed me a parchment with strange markings like in my staff. She callest it my name. Marks she saith thou callest 'Aksara'."
She lifted her staff. "She saith thou canst read the 'Lost Words'."
She traced a thumb over the intricate carvings near the handle. "These marks hold power, but their true voice hath faded from memory. Even I do not know their true meaning; I only know the sound they hold, passed down through the echo of the world."
She looked at me with intensity. "Tell me, Darya. Canst thou read the wood?"
She means Hanacaraka or Aksara Jawa
I leaned over the counter. I read the characters carved into the divine wood: ꦲ ꦫꦸ ꦩ꧀, similar to the hologram Aella showed me before.
"It says… 'Arum'," I said.
"'Arum'…" She whispered, "Thou readest it as a name."
"It is a name," I said, pointing to the characters. "But it's also a word. In the language of this script… it means 'fragrant'. Like a flower. Or a sweet smell."
She stared at me as her mismatched eyes seemed to cycle through seasons. The scent of blooming jasmine and raid exploded in the shop, responding to her emotion.
"'Fragrant'…" she breathed. "Thou… thou speakest the tongue of the Founders? Thou knowest the meaning of the Mark?"
She leaned over the counter, gripping my wrist with a strength that could crush stone as her eyes widened with a desperate, ancient hunger for this knowledge.
"Aella spoke true. Thou art no mere human." She looked deep into my eyes. "Gardener… who art thou? Truly?"
Well…
"I am a human?"
"A human?" Arum repeated, her grip not loosening. "Nay. The humans of this realm forgot the Founders before they laid their first stone. Their short lives burn the memory of the past like kindling. To know the Mark… to know the meaning… thou must be ancient."
She searched my eyes, looking for the years I didn't have. "Or thou art… a traveller from the Founder's own shore."
"What do you mean by Founder's own shore?", I asked, trying to pull my wrist back gently. She let go slowly, though her intense gaze remained. "Do you think I am from the Founders of this world realm? Or the God's realm?"
"The Founders…" she mused, her voice distant, recalling a memory older than the trees themselves. "They were not gods as thou understandest them. They were the Architects. The ones who planted the first seeds of reality before my sisters and I were born to tend the garden. They came from… elsewhere. A shore beyond the mist of time."
She looked at me. "If thou knowest their tongue, thou must hail from that same shore."
Does she mean the real world, or is my previous world the founders' realm?
"Well, that's nice… You speculate on me from the founders' realm. However, I am not from that realm."
"Not from that realm?" She asked, her voice soft but heavy with scepticism. "Then how dost thou speak the tongue that shaped the mountains? How dost thou read the name that the wind hath forgotten?"
"By learning it?"
"By learning it?" She repeated. "Thou speakest of the Language of Creation as if it were a song taught to a child."
Actually, yes, Aksara Jawa had been taught to children since elementary school. Basically, we have learnt three languages since childhood.
"Forget about that…" I pointed to the rest of the carvings on the staff, spiralling down from where her name was written. "I am so mesmerised and interested in your staff…"
Arum lifted the staff. "What dost thou find interesting?"
I looked at the characters carved deep into the ancient wood: ꦕ ꦏꦿCa-Kra
"I knew a legend about this staff, a legend from another garden, not from this garden…"
"What is this legend thou speakest of?"
"First, the shape of the edge of this staff has a meaning of the sun, as it is shaped like a sun…And second," I continued, "the name itself, 'Cokro' or 'Cakra', means 'wheel' or 'wheel of life' or 'centre of energy'. In the legends of that other garden, it is believed to be the divine weapon of Wisnu, the God of Preservation."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Preservation…" she echoed with her soft voice.
"Yes. He is the one who maintains the balance of the universe against destruction. And this weapon… it is believed to symbolise the cycle of time, of order, of justice."
I looked up at her, meeting her ancient gaze. "The thing that I am so interested in about this staff, this staff… It isn't just a branch. It's the symbol of the 'Ratu Adil'—the 'Queen of Justice' who restores order to a chaotic world, and to be believed, she will come back again to bring peace and restore order. She is known as 'Herucokro', which means a person who does not prioritise wealth and material possessions."
I looked it up and said with confidence, "The one who possesses this staff is destined to be a great leader."