The Academy's arched gates loomed, solid and unyielding, as I pushed through them. My heel pumps clacked on the polished cobblestones, a sharp, annoying rhythm that echoed the frantic beat of my own heart. Forget Madam Pomfrey. She'd offer some sickly sweet potion and a sympathetic frown, neither of which would touch the unsettling emptiness festering inside me. No, I needed to be home. Needed the quiet, the cool, the comforting shadows of my own space.
A cold wave of unease washed over me, chilling me deeper than the crisp autumn air. The memory of Professor Eldrin's field, the unyielding brown seed, the strange warmth, and then… nothing. Just the abrupt return to pain, confusion, and the lingering scent of something impossibly green. My hand still instinctively flew to my nose, tracing the ghost of dried blood. What had happened? Zalu's voice, insistent and bewildered, echoed in my mind: "Your hair was green, and there were flowers…"
Green hair. Flowers. I paced my kitchen, the smooth, cool obsidian floor a comfort under my bare feet. Left, right, left, right. The rhythmic thump-thump of my steps was the only sound in the house, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the Academy. My panthers, Nyx and Helaris, were still at the Academy, likely tearing through some Advanced Combat lecture with the speed of bored shadows, waiting for me to call them back. Their absence left a small, familiar void in my mental space, one usually filled with their quiet murmurs and purrs.
Think, Elara, think. My mind, usually a lightning-fast labyrinth of logic, felt sluggish, coated in a fine layer of dust. The easier the task, the faster I usually solved it. This, however, felt less like a puzzle and more like a missing chunk of myself. I tried to reconstruct the moments before the chaotic flare. The seed. Eldrin's instructions. My irritation. Then… blank.
A sudden, dizzying lurch sent me swaying. The edges of my vision blurred, the pristine white walls of the kitchen seeming to undulate. I stumbled towards the living room, my legs feeling like lead, and collapsed onto the plush, dark cushions of my sofa. The cool, velvety fabric was a small comfort against my skin, which suddenly felt feverish.
This was different. The disorientation that followed these episodes was usually immediate, a violent eruption followed by pain and exhaustion. This, however, was a delayed, creeping sickness, a slow burn that left me feeling fragile, like spun glass.
As I lay there, staring at the intricately carved wooden ceiling, a sudden, blinding flash of insight hit me. The stone! Not the kind of brilliance that cracked ancient magical formulae, but a simple, obvious solution that had eluded my haze.
I shot up from the sofa, ignoring the renewed wave of dizziness, and made my way to the small, velvet-lined box on the low table in the corner. My fingers closed around a smooth, fist-sized obsidian sphere. This wasn't just any communication stone; it was a specially keyed one, connected directly to my mother's personal receiver at the Magic Association.
"Mom," I murmured, my voice raspy, holding the stone firmly. It pulsed faintly in my palm, a steady beat that matched the thrumming in my head.
A soft, ethereal glow spread from the stone, shimmering into a rectangular, semi-transparent screen. My mother's face, serene and impossibly beautiful, materialized there.
"Elara? You're home early," Lyra said, her voice a calm, melodic hum. But her worried expression was clear, her voice tinged with concern.
"Are you sick, darling?" Her brow furrowed. "You sound… strained. Have the dreams returned?"
"No, Mom, not the dreams. Not yet. I… I'm not feeling well, no. But something else happened. In Professor Eldrin's class."
Her expression shifted from worry to an intense focus. "Something happened? Tell me."
"It's easier if I show you," I said, a wave of exhaustion washing over me again. "Can you… come?"
A small, knowing smile touched her lips. "Of course, my Moonpetal." The projection shimmered, and a faint hum resonated through the air. A ripple formed in the space before me, expanding into a shimmering, oval portal, a gateway to anywhere she chose. In moments, she stepped through, her presence filling the room with the subtle scent of moon-dusted lilies.
She placed a cool hand on my forehead. Her touch, always so precise and feather-light, felt like ice against my burning skin. "You're burning up, Elara. What did you do?"
I sighed, allowing myself to lean into her touch. "It wasn't me, Mom. Not exactly. We were trying to grow a seed in Eldrin's class. I was… trying to force it. And then, there was this green light, and I felt… a pull. And then I don't remember anything until after it stopped. Zalu said my hair turned green, and flowers bloomed from nothing. And then… pain. And now this." I gestured vaguely at my own feverish face. "How is this possible? I'm only a three-star witch."
Her expression was grave, a silent confirmation of my fears. Her touch lingered, her thumb stroking my temple. "It sounds like… the phenomenon has intensified, Moonpetal. To manifest so powerfully… without the dreams… this is new." She didn't need to say "Gaia" aloud. We both knew what these episodes occasionally channeled. The Goddess, raw and untamed, expressing herself through a vessel that was, currently, just a human girl.
"We need to get this fever down," she murmured, her voice laced with concern. She produced a small, iridescent vial from her elegant, embroidered pouch. The liquid inside glowed with a faint silver light. "Drink this. It will help with the fever and the residual energy disruption."
I swallowed the cool, metallic-tasting potion obediently. It immediately began to soothe the burning in my veins, the headache receding to a dull throb. Lyra watched me, her keen eyes missing nothing.
"Rest, Elara," she instructed softly, helping me lie back down. "I will conduct some more research. This new manifestation… it requires deeper understanding." She was already turning, her mind clearly racing, her energy focused on the next problem. That was Lyra. A hardworking genius, always seeking answers, always dedicated to my well-being, even if it meant sacrificing her own rest. She would delve into ancient texts, seek out forgotten spells, anything to help me control what could destroy me. She always said she could only lead me to the knowledge; I had to do the rest.
"I love you, Mom," I mumbled, my eyelids growing heavy.
"And I you, my Moonpetal," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips as she stepped back through the shimmering portal, leaving me once more in the quiet solitude of my home.
Just as the last shimmer of the portal faded, I heard a soft thud and a low rumble from outside. Nyx and Helaris. Back from their class. I heard the satisfying crunch of dry kibble, then the soft padding of paws as they moved through the house, their mental presence, now close and grounding, a wave of comfort.
She is tired, Nyx rumbled, a thought, not a sound.
Yes. We will play outside. Do not disturb her rest. Helaris, always the considerate one.
I felt their warmth, their presence, but knew they would leave me be. They understood. They always understood. I closed my eyes, the residual heat slowly receding, pulling me into a much-needed, dreamless sleep.
---
Meanwhile, in the Academy's noble accommodations, Zalu Dlamini paced her spacious, well-appointed room. The silken tapestries on the walls, the plush rug under her feet – they all felt oddly suffocating. Her long, green hair, typically pulled back in neat ponytail, brushed against her shoulders as she walked. Her mind was a whirlwind, caught between the impossible display she'd witnessed earlier and Elara's dismissive, almost pained, reaction.
Green hair. Flowers blooming from nowhere. That voice…
"It doesn't make sense!" Zalu muttered to the empty air, her voice echoing oddly in the silence. She stopped pacing and stared at her reflection in the polished surface of her dressing table. Her own bright, expressive blue eyes, usually sparkling with enthusiasm, were clouded with confusion. Her medium to dark brown complexion seemed a little duller than usual, the scattered freckles across her nose almost invisible beneath the frown she wore.
She knew Elara was… different. Everyone did. The way she rarely attended classes, yet always topped the ranks. The way she moved, like liquid shadow, elegant yet detached. Zalu, a tall and athletic build with a lean and toned physique, had admired her, secretly, for years, before finally gathering the courage to speak to her in their second year. The more she tried to get close, the more layers Elara revealed – or rather, hinted at. There was so much baggage, so many mysteries. It was like trying to understand a nebula; beautiful, but utterly incomprehensible.
"She said she didn't remember," Zalu murmured, tracing a pattern on the cool glass. "But how could you not remember something like that? It was… divine."
She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "And the way she lives alone, out in that forest. And how she gets sick so easily, even though she's the granddaughter of an Archduke and probably has access to the best healers." Zalu grunted, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "It's too much! Too many pieces, and none of them fit!"
She slumped onto her bed, the soft mattress offering little comfort to her churning mind. "This is pointless," she told herself, staring at the ceiling. "I'm just going around in circles. I won't get any answers from asking myself."
With another frustrated sigh, Zalu pulled her blankets up to her chin. Sleep. Yes, sleep was the only answer right now. Maybe tomorrow, the pieces would start to make sense. Or maybe not. But at least she wouldn't be trying to force them.