With their plan decided, Maelin stood up, her eyes gleaming with purpose. "Come on, we'll need to find the right stones tonight. The earlier they start warming, the better for the plant."
Lira followed her quietly through the dim hallways, the torches casting soft golden halos along the walls. Outside, the air was cool and carried the scent of moss and earth. The stars blinked high above them.
Maelin led her to the side of the main building, where a patch of rocky garden lay between the halls and the outer training grounds. "These," Maelin said, kneeling down and pointing. "See how smooth and round they are? My grandma called them embercradles. They're not actually magical, but they hold heat longer than jagged ones. We used them to warm beds in winter."
Lira knelt beside her, brushing her fingers over the warm-toned stones. They were brownish-red, slightly warm to the touch even now. It felt strange—like they remembered the sun.
Together, they moved in silence, collecting the stones—some hand-sized, some as small as coins—into a bundle of cloth. Lira stole a glance at Maelin, who looked completely in her element, humming softly, her energy steady and grounded.
Before long, Maelin nodded. "That should be enough for a circle. Let's go."
They returned inside and moved down a narrow, little-used corridor. As they reached the end, Maelin stopped at a heavy door marked with a faded rune. "This is it," she whispered.
She pushed it open, and a wave of warmth poured over them like a breath. Lira gasped.
The forge room was unlike anything she'd seen—stone walls pulsing with red-orange light, several forges built into the far wall glowing like sleeping dragons. Tools hung on iron hooks, and the air was thick with the scent of metal, coal, and heat. There was a rhythm to the space—a deep humming, as if the stones themselves remembered fire.
Lira stood frozen in awe. "It's... alive," she murmured.
Maelin chuckled. "That's what my uncle always says. Fire never dies here. Just waits."
She led Lira to a clear table and spread the stones out carefully in a circle. "Now we'll heat them gently and I'll try the charm."
Lira watched, heart pounding, as Maelin stepped toward the forge and began her quiet preparation.
The forge room pulsed with warmth, its air thick with the scent of smoke and iron. Lira wiped her brow as they approached the central hearth where coals glowed like the eyes of resting dragons. Maelin moved with ease, already in her element.
"Place them here," she instructed, gesturing to a flat iron plate over the heat.
Lira knelt and carefully laid the gathered stones in a circle, just as Maelin had shown her. The stones, still cold, looked pale against the glowing embers—but that would soon change.
Maelin grabbed a long iron stick from the wall, its handle wrapped in worn leather. She nudged each stone into the heart of the heat, flipping and turning them with practiced ease. Her expression was focused, almost reverent. Lira stood back and watched, mesmerized by how Maelin worked. Slowly, the color of the stones deepened—from gray to umber, then dark orange, and finally a muted red, glowing softly like sleeping coals.
"They're ready," Maelin whispered, dropping the iron stick with a clatter to the side. She stepped forward, her hands hovering just above the stones.
Lira felt the air shift. A hum, low and steady, filled the space as Maelin closed her eyes and began to speak in a tongue Lira didn't understand. The words were round and flowing, like heat rising from pavement, and they wrapped around the stones in invisible ribbons of intent.
The red glow deepened, pulsing faintly as if the stones had taken breath.
As the final words of enchantment left Maelin's lips, a soft flicker danced across the stones. One by one, tiny sigils glowed on their surfaces—flame-shaped marks, delicate and ancient. The stones pulsed gently, warm with purpose.
Without hesitation, Maelin reached out and lifted them with bare hands. The heat didn't touch her. The fire welcomed her.
She turned to Lira, a spark of excitement in her eyes. "Now... where is this plant?"
Lira didn't need to answer. She was already heading toward the door, and Maelin followed. The night outside was deep, cloaking the school grounds in quiet, but small garden lamps glowed like watchful stars along the paths.
They ran in silence, footsteps soft against the earth. When they reached the greenhouse, Lira slipped inside first. The warmth of the plants greeted them, earthy and calm. She didn't hesitate. Even in the dim light, she knew exactly where to go.
Ivvie fluttered silently above the blackened plant, her glow faint but steady, watching.
Maelin knelt by the plant and touched one of its crisped leaves. "Yes," she said. "This is the one. It's fire-born, for sure."
She placed the stones in a perfect circle around it, each one humming softly as it touched the soil. The glow of the sigils reflected faintly off the leaves. "This should do it," she whispered. "We'll see in the morning."
Lira nodded. There was no need for more words.
They slipped out the greenhouse door and darted back across the quiet grounds, moving like whispers. No one saw them. No one heard.
Back in her room, Lira dropped into bed, the warmth of the forge and the joy of being needed still lingering in her chest.
I feel seen now, she thought as her eyes drifted closed. I can help too. And people are helping me too.
She smiled into her pillow and fell into deep, peaceful sleep.
Next Morning – Greenhouse
Soft rays of morning light filtered through the glass panes of the greenhouse, illuminating tiny particles of mist dancing in the air. Lira arrived quietly, her steps light on the stone path, unsure what she would find. Ivvie fluttered near the flower ahead, glowing faintly as if in anticipation.
Maelin was already there, crouched near the circle of stones, her fingers brushing the soil. She looked up with a wide grin.
"You're just in time," she said. "Come look."
Lira approached slowly—and gasped.
The once-blackened leaves had shifted color. Faint reddish veins now pulsed through them like warm light, and the edges curled upward as if reaching gratefully toward the warmth. The air around the plant felt different too—more alive.
"It worked," Lira whispered, kneeling beside it. She reached out gently, resting her fingers near the soil. A deep warmth still lingered in the stones.
"It feels… thankful."
Ivvie hovered close, nodding approvingly.
Maelin beamed with pride, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "Told you it just needed the right heat. These little things just want someone to understand them."
Lira looked up at her friend. "I couldn't have done it without you."
"And I couldn't have done it without you telling me about it." Maelin grinned. "See? Balance."
They sat in silence for a moment, watching the plant breathe in the new day.
Footsteps echoed softly on the stone floor of the greenhouse. Thara, the herbalist, appeared around a row of hanging herbs, her long braid swaying behind her capturing her wild hair.
She stopped abruptly when she saw the girls near the plant, then hurried over with wide eyes.
"Is that…? But it was almost gone yesterday!" she said, crouching beside them. Her hand hovered over the red-veined leaves. "They're vibrant… glowing even."
Maelin smiled. "We used heated stones, enchanted with fire energy. This plant probably comes from the Fire Town, so it needed warmth—real warmth—to thrive."
Thara looked at them both, first surprised, then deeply impressed.
"That's brilliant. I never would've thought of that. And it worked beautifully."
She turned to Lira with a warm nod.
"And you knew just who to ask. Very good thinking."
Both girls beamed under her praise. Lira's chest felt warm—not from fire, but from being understood and valued.
Thara stood, still examining the plant. "We'll add this method to the notes about its care. It's vital information—how to grow this plant away from its natural environment. Others will benefit from this."
Lira glanced at Maelin, and they exchanged proud smiles.
For once, she didn't feel like someone who only watched others help.
She was helping, too.