Word spread like fire through dry grass. People came—quiet, hesitant, as though afraid the green would vanish if they breathed too hard. Kaelen showed them how to tend the plants: light cycles, nutrient mix, patience. He taught them the Silent’s lesson: stewardship, not ownership.
The Warrens changed slowly. Trays appeared in corners, under UV lamps scavenged from old med bays. Green spread—clover runners creeping along conduits, tomato vines climbing support struts. Children laughed at the smell of real leaves. Adults wept when they tasted the first tiny fruit.
