Leo stood in the garage, the small, ornate cage in his hands. Inside, the fairy fluttered nervously, her tiny wings beating against the glowing iron bars. He had to get her out of there and into a place she could truly thrive.
He went to the small bathroom connected to the garage—a new door, a new potential destination. He focused his mind, hard. He pictured the Sanctum, his garden, the silvery light filtering through the canopy. He needed this door to lead home.
With a deep breath, he opened it.
Relief washed over him. The familiar, serene twilight forest greeted him. It worked. He could direct the portals. He wasn't at the mercy of the cosmic roulette wheel.
He stepped through, carrying the cage tenderly. He walked to the heart of his garden plot, the place that felt most alive. There, he knelt and carefully unlatched the cage door. The glowing runes flickered and died.
The fairy zipped out in a blur of motion. She hovered in the air for a moment, disoriented, before she seemed to truly see her surroundings. Her tiny form, no bigger than Leo's hand, was slender and graceful. Her skin had a faint, pearlescent shimmer, and her wings, like a dragonfly's, caught the light in a thousand iridescent colors. Her hair was the color of starlight, and her pointed ears confirmed her fey nature. She was, essentially, a miniature, winged elf.
As she took in the pure air and the thrumming life-force of the Sanctum, her entire being seemed to sigh in relief. Her own soft light, which had been dim and flickering in the cage, brightened to a brilliant, steady glow. She flew in a joyful, looping circle around Leo's head, a trail of golden motes sparkling in her wake. He felt a wave of pure gratitude wash over him, a wordless "thank you" communicated directly to his mind.
"You're welcome," Leo said aloud, a wide smile on his face. He had done a good thing.
The fairy then flew over to his newly planted strawberry patch and landed delicately on a leaf. She placed her tiny, glowing hands on the stalk of the plant.
And then Leo witnessed true magic.
---
High in his chamber, Lord Arion watched the scrying pool, his knuckles white on his root-throne. "What... what is that?" he whispered.
Beside him, Elara, who was meant to be down in the Sanctum approaching the Gardener, was frozen in place, her silver eyes wide with disbelief. She had never seen such a creature. It was shaped like an elf, but minuscule, winged, and glowing with an untamed, wild magic. There were no fairies in their world. The legends spoke of them, but as spirits of a bygone age, long since faded from existence.
"Is that... a tiny elf with wings?" Valerius's confused thought echoed in her mind from his post at the gate.
---
Leo watched, mesmerized. Where the fairy touched the strawberry plant, the plant responded with explosive life. The leaves unfurled, turning a deeper, more vibrant green. New runners shot out across the soil. Tiny white flowers bloomed, their petals unfurling in seconds, and then, impossibly, the flowers receded as small green nubs of fruit appeared, swelling and ripening before his very eyes. In less than a minute, a cluster of a dozen perfectly ripe, ruby-red strawberries hung where there had been only leaves.
Elves, with their deep connection to nature, could encourage plants to grow. A skilled Life-Shaper could coax a blossom open or ripen a fruit with a day of concentrated effort. But this... this was not coaxing. This was commanding. The raw, unfiltered power was on a completely different scale.
The fairy chirped, a sound like tiny silver bells, and plucked one of the fresh strawberries, which was nearly as big as her head. She zipped over to Leo and offered it to him.
Humbled and awestruck, Leo accepted the gift. He popped the strawberry into his mouth. The flavor was a supernova of sweetness, and the burst of life-force was so potent it made him dizzy.
Feeling content with her work, the fairy flew off, a shimmering spark of gold, and disappeared into the vast canopy of the Sanctum. She was home.
Shaking his head in wonder, Leo turned back to his gardening. He had work to do. He began planting a new row of carrot seeds, feeling energized and happy.
Elara, released from her stupor by Lord Arion's mental prompting, finally began her descent toward the garden. She was supposed to approach the Gardener, to work beside him. But her mission had been completely derailed. The Gardener hadn't just tended his plot today. He had introduced a new, impossibly powerful, and utterly unknown life form into their most sacred of spaces.
Was it a gift? A pet? Another creator's blessing? She didn't know. As she stepped silently into the clearing, she watched the Gardener humming softly to himself as he patted soil over his new seeds. He seemed entirely unconcerned by the ecological and magical upheaval he had just initiated. He acted as if releasing a mythical, life-supercharging creature into a pristine environment was the most natural thing in the world.
For him, maybe it was.