საქართველოს ჭადრაკის ფედერაცია

He looked up. His mouth moved, but no sound came out. Then he pointed to the ground at his feet.

But Nona's final words echoed in her mind, spoken just before Elara left for the night: "Be careful. The garden loves what it keeps. It won't want to let him go. And it won't want to let you leave, either."

And then the world shifted .

No one knew what "it" was.

"But why give it to me?"

"You have to understand," Nona continued, "the forever rose isn't just a flower. It's a key. Your grandfather spent his whole life chasing the myth of a garden where nothing fades. And he found it. But the garden doesn't let you leave. Not entirely. He sent me that rose as a promise—that he was still there, still alive. And every year, on our anniversary, I pricked my finger on its thorn and I saw him. For just a second. I saw where he was."

Nona smiled, a thin, secret curve. "Touch the stem."

Elara lifted the rose from the box. The stem was real—rough, green, with a single thorn that pricked her thumb. A bead of blood welled up, bright as a new penny.