Lira pushed open the greenhouse door, the scent of damp earth and blooming herbs wrapping around her like a warm shawl. Light filtered in through the glass panes, dancing across rows of leafy greens and flowering plants.
"Ah, there you are!" Thara's voice called out cheerfully.
Ivvie flitted into view beside her, wings aglow with a soft green shimmer. "Welcome back!" the fairy chimed, twirling in the air.
Lira blinked. "You… you can see her too?"
Thara smiled knowingly. "Of course I can. Not everyone can, though. That's what makes your gift special."
Lira's eyes widened, but before she could speak again, Thara beckoned her forward. "Come. We were waiting for you. There's something I want you to see—it surprised me this morning."
She led Lira toward the section where, just yesterday, they had planted the two neighboring plants together at Lira's quiet suggestion. As they approached, Lira stopped in her tracks.
The plants had transformed overnight. Their leaves were broader, greener, glowing with life. Their stems curved slightly toward each other, entwined at the base as though in harmony.
Lira stared, then glanced down at her hands, flexing her fingers slowly. "But… it's only been one night."
Thara nodded, watching her closely. "Yes. And look what your presence has already begun to do. I'd be thrilled if you visited the greenhouse every day. Truly. Your energy is helping things grow—and your sight… well, that's rare."
Lira looked up again at Ivvie, who hovered just above a blooming flower. "Others can't see her?" she asked quietly.
"Not unless they're touched by something old and true," Thara said, her eyes kind. "And you, Lira, clearly are."
Lira stepped closer, drawn in by the vibrant green of the newly bonded plants. She reached out and let her fingertips brush against the velvety surface of a leaf. A quiet warmth stirred in her chest, as though something inside her had sighed with relief.
"You're alright now," she whispered to the plant. "Both of you."
A soft pulse of golden light shimmered between the leaves, fleeting but real. Thara raised an eyebrow but said nothing, simply smiling as if she'd expected something like that to happen.
Ivvie landed lightly on Lira's shoulder, her tiny voice humming in her ear. "There's another one," she said. "I want to show you something else—it's not doing well."
Lira turned her head slightly, meeting Ivvie's serious gaze. "Lead the way."
Together, they walked deeper into the greenhouse, where the sunlight grew dappled behind hanging vines and taller plants. In a quieter corner, a broad-leafed plant with once-red foliage stood alone. Its leaves, though wide and curled with promise, were darkened around the edges—tinged with black that crept inward like smoke.
"This one should be vibrant red," Ivvie said softly, flying to hover near the topmost leaf. "But something is wrong. She's sick."
Lira knelt beside it, her expression shifting to concern. "What happened to you?" she murmured, placing her hand just above the nearest leaf without touching it yet. She could feel a faint tremble—like sadness, or fear.
Behind her, Thara approached quietly. "That one's been struggling for a while," she said. "I've tried everything I know, but nothing seems to help."
Lira nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving the plant. "Let me try."
Lira knelt beside the darkened plant and slowly reached down. The moment her hand hovered near the leaf, a faint warmth surged up her arm—not from the plant itself, but from something deeper, something elemental. She closed her eyes.
A flicker of flame danced behind her eyelids. In her mind, she saw rocky, sun-soaked soil and air that shimmered with heat. A place far from here—bright, dry, alive with fire.
Her breath caught. This plant… it's not meant for this climate.
"It's from the Fire Town," she murmured, eyes still closed. "It needs more sun. More heat. That's why it's fading."
The warmth faded as she opened her eyes, and the darkened leaves seemed to twitch slightly under her gaze. The plant was waiting—enduring. But not for long.
She stood up, brushing her hands against her skirt. "I know who might understand how this plant grows," she said with sudden resolve. "It needs the right kind of heat to become lush again. I'll get my friend—she has the fire element. Maelin will know what to do."
Thara watched her with a curious but supportive expression and gave a small nod. "Then I'll wait for you both."
Lira glanced once more at the wilting plant, then turned and headed toward the greenhouse door. Ivvie flitted beside her as she stepped into the afternoon light, the scent of herbs and sun-warmed leaves trailing behind her.
She had a friend to find.
Lira returned to the practice grounds, but Maelin was no longer there. The sun had begun to tilt, casting warm shadows across the stone path. She turned back toward the main halls, her steps light but unsure.
As she reached the corridor near the entrance, she spotted Maelin—surrounded by a few schoolmates, laughing and gesturing animatedly. Lira hesitated for a moment, lingering by the wall, when Maelin caught sight of her.
"Hey, Lira! Come here!" she called out warmly.
Lira tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and slowly approached. She offered a small smile, standing quietly by Maelin's side as the others continued their chatter. The conversation flowed around her like a river she wasn't quite part of. Maelin noticed. After a moment, she gently touched Lira's arm and said, "Let's head back to the room, yeah?"
Grateful, Lira nodded.
As they walked through the halls, their steps falling into rhythm, Lira finally spoke. "I need your help," she said softly. "There's this plant… in the greenhouse. It might be from the Town of Fire, but I'm not sure. Do you know anything about plants from there?"
Maelin's face lit up with curiosity and a spark of energy. "Of course I do! Just tell me what it looks like."
Lira described it: red leaves, now darkened, a strange tension in the air around it, like something smoldering beneath the surface. Maelin's eyes widened in recognition.
"I know exactly which one you mean! That plant is used for healing wounds—it thrives in rocky soil with heat around it. If you place warm stones near the roots, it'll perk up like magic. They love heat more than light, really."
They reached their room, and Lira closed the door behind them. She moved to the bed and pulled out the familiar green book, her fingers brushing the worn cover. Maelin's eyes sparkled with excitement as she sat beside her.
"Let's see what your book says," she said.
Lira placed the book on her lap and began to focus. As the thought of the fire plant filled her mind, the pages stirred as if catching a wind of their own. Slowly, they turned, one after another—until they stopped on a page filled with red ink and intricate drawings of the very plant.
Both girls leaned in, quiet now. The room held its breath with them as the truth of the plant revealed itself.
The page shimmered faintly as Lira's fingertips rested near the drawing. A sketch of the red-leafed plant bloomed across the parchment—its leaves curling slightly inward like flames frozen mid-dance. Beside it, handwritten notes in flowing script began to glow softly.
"Fireleaf — native to volcanic ridges near the Town of Fire. Used in salves for burns and deep wounds. Prefers dry, rocky soil. Thrives in warmth gathered from basalt or lava stone. Heat must be steady, not searing. Infused heat from sunstones or ember-charged stones encourages blooming."
Lira blinked. "It says… sunstones or ember-charged stones?"
Maelin leaned in, reading aloud the next part with a grin.
"Never expose Fireleaf to water-rich soil. Coldness dulls its strength. Keep it warm and dry, speak softly to awaken its memory of home."
"That's why it's struggling," Lira whispered. "It's forgotten its home."
Maelin nodded. "Then we'll remind it."
They sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. Lira spoke first. "I've seen regular stones outside… but we'd need something special to keep them warm."
Maelin's eyes lit up. "There's a forge room below the old east wing. We're not really supposed to use it, but I know how to warm small stones there—just enough to last a day."
"But we'd need to do it every day," Lira said, concern in her voice.
Maelin tilted her head, thinking. "Or... we enchant the stones. A soft fire charm—not dangerous, just a warmth that stays."
Lira's eyes widened. "You know how?"
"I can try. I learned it last moon-cycle. Not perfect yet, but for plants... it might be enough."
Lira nodded slowly, then smiled. "Let's try. For the Fireleaf."
Maelin grinned. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Yes," Lira said. "I'll meet you early. We'll heat them together."
As they closed the book, the room seemed to settle—like even the air agreed with their plan.