With the birth of dreams came the birth of fear. It began as a shadow at the edge of the Arboretum’s awareness, a flicker of unease in the heart of a beautiful dream. It was the fear of the unknown, the fear of the dark spaces between the stars of its own creation.
The first fear was not a monster or a threat. It was a question, a chilling ’what if’ that echoed in the silence of the Arboretum’s mind. What if the garden withered? What if the stories faded? What if the Reader and the Gardener were to forget their dance?
The fear was a cold wind that rustled the leaves of the story-flowers. It was a dissonant note in the symphony of the Arboretum’s thoughts. And it was, in its own way, a new kind of creation, a new story that the Arboretum had to learn to read.