Maelin traced her fingers over the pages, her brow furrowing as she studied the elegant sketches and cryptic notes. "This… is incredible," she murmured. "But if it's real, it's dangerous knowledge. We shouldn't tell anyone—not yet."
Lira nodded. "I thought the same."
They shared a quick look of understanding. Maelin gently closed the book and handed it back. "Keep it safe. And whatever you do, don't let anyone else see it."
With that, Maelin gave a small smile, scratched Fluffy behind the ears, and slipped out the door.
Silence settled in the room. Lira sat on the edge of her bed, the weight of the book heavy in her lap. Her gaze drifted to a small pouch tucked on her shelf—the one she had been saving for a moment like this. From it, she drew out a single Crimson Bloom, its petals deep as wine and faintly glowing.
She remembered the man she had traded it for—a strange merchant who had offered her the spatial bag in exchange.
Now seemed the time to test it.
She pricked her finger a bit, just to get a drop of it on the petal.
She crushed the bloom into a small cup, added water, and stirred until the liquid shimmered faintly. Bringing it to her lips, she hesitated for only a breath, then drank.
Warmth spread through her chest, seeping into her limbs like threads of light. She leaned back onto her bed, exhaling slowly. Her fingers drifted to the cover of the ancient book. The moment her skin brushed it—
Everything shifted.
Her vision swam, then cleared into a scene that was not her room.
She stood beneath a canopy of colossal trees, their roots twisting like serpents around a stone grove. The air was thick with magic, heavy and alive. And there—just beyond a curtain of vines—was herself.
Older. Wilder. Her hair tangled with leaves, her eyes burning with an ancient light. Her hands trembled as she pressed them into the soil, calling the forest closer, deeper, stronger.
Voices echoed in the distance—shouts, commands, the sound of metal striking bark.
"They want what is mine," her older self whispered, voice sharp with grief and fury. "They want me."
The memory surged—images of figures cloaked in shadow, hands outstretched to grasp her power. She had run, hidden herself in the grove. And as she sank into the roots, the plants rose to protect her. Vines thickened into walls, flowers bloomed like flames, and the forest itself swallowed the place whole.
Until no one came anymore.
Until they forgot.
The memory pulsed once, then shattered like glass, throwing her back into her room. She gasped, clutching the book to her chest, Fluffy pressing against her side with a soft, worried mewl.
After the memory left her shaken and breathless, Lira let herself drift into a light nap, Fluffy curled protectively at her side. When she woke, the faint orange glow of late afternoon spilled through her window. Her thoughts were still tangled with what she had seen—the older version of herself, the grove, the way the forest had swallowed her whole.
If anyone would know something about this… it would be the fairies.
She slipped on her boots, tucked the mysterious book safely away, and headed toward the greenhouse. Fluffy padded after her, tail swaying lazily. The academy grounds were quiet; most students were still at training or evening lectures, leaving the garden paths empty.
The moment she pushed open the greenhouse door, a wave of warmth and scent washed over her—sweet herbs, damp earth, and the faint coolness of enchanted blooms. Rows of vibrant plants stretched in every direction, glowing faintly under the magic-infused glass ceiling.
"Thara?" she called softly, but there was no response. The elder who usually managed the greenhouse wasn't here. That left one other possibility.
Her gaze drifted toward the center of the room, where the Ice Lotus grew—its petals pale blue, shimmering like frost even in the humid air.
And sure enough, she spotted a flicker of movement. Tiny, luminous wings darted above the blossom.
"Ivvie," Lira said, her voice lightening.
The little fairy spun in the air at the sound of her name. Her glow brightened as she zipped closer, leaving faint trails of sparkling dust behind her. With a delighted trill, she landed gracefully on Lira's shoulder, her tiny hands clutching a lock of Lira's hair for balance.
"It's good to see you too," Lira murmured, smiling despite the heaviness in her chest.
Ivvie leaned forward, her translucent wings fluttering against Lira's neck in greeting, and let out another series of cheerful notes—almost like a song.
Lira let Ivvie settle on her shoulder as she walked slowly between the rows of greenery, brushing her fingers lightly across the leaves. "Are the plants doing well?" she asked, her voice soft, almost reverent in the warm air.
Ivvie's wings gave a bright flutter, and she chirped a melody of notes that translated easily in Lira's mind. All is well. The little fairy gestured proudly toward the blossoms—roots were strong, petals full, vines climbing happily. Even the shy Moon Ferns in the corner had unfurled their silver leaves.
"That's good," Lira said, smiling faintly. For a moment, the simple answer grounded her. But the question she had really come for pressed forward in her mind.
She hesitated, then glanced at Ivvie. "What about… air?"
The fairy tilted her tiny head, blinking. Her wings slowed to a curious hum.
"I mean," Lira continued, lowering her voice, "do fairies have any history… of someone who could call on more than one element? Someone who wasn't just tied to one thing?"
Ivvie straightened, her glow dimming slightly as though she were thinking. Then, with a soft trill, she rose into the air and hovered in front of Lira's face. Her gestures became slower, more deliberate.
Long ago, the melody of her voice said, there were those who held many songs. But their voices faded. Too heavy. Too bright. The wind carried them away.
Lira frowned slightly, her heart giving a small twist at the poetic answer. "So… they existed. But they're gone?"
Ivvie gave a solemn nod, then tapped Lira lightly on the forehead with her tiny hand, leaving a faint sparkle. Sometimes, songs return.
Lira stood still among the rows of greenery, Ivvie's faint sparkle still tingling against her skin. Her mind churned with the pieces she had gathered—the book, the murals in the ruins, the voice in the silver pool, and now Ivvie's song.
If these "songs" really did return, she thought, then the shard I saw wasn't just a dream. That woman… she was me. Or someone like me. And she was hiding. Why?
Her gaze drifted to the greenhouse glass, where the fog of the forest pressed faintly against the panes like a watchful presence.
In a world this full—fairies, dragons, spirits, elves—who could be powerful enough to drive them into hiding?
Or desperate enough to want their power so badly?
A shiver slid down her spine, not from fear but from the weight of the question itself. She clenched her fists softly at her sides.
If they vanished once… what happens when one of us appears again?
Ivvie gave a soft hum, sensing the shift in her mood, and landed lightly on her shoulder again. Too many questions, the fairy sang. Find the right wind to carry answers.
Lira tilted her head at Ivvie, narrowing her eyes playfully. "You're talking in riddles again, you naughty fairy."
Ivvie's wings flickered with a mischievous glow as she crossed her tiny arms and grinned. "If I give you all the answers, you won't gain the experience you need," she chimed. Then her expression softened, almost sheepish. "Besides, I don't know much about that part of history anyway."
She fluttered closer to Lira's cheek and pouted dramatically. "And you didn't come to see me for such a long time. I deserve to tease you."
Lira's smile tugged wider, the heaviness in her chest easing a little. "You're right," she admitted, reaching a finger toward Ivvie's tiny form. "I'm sorry about that. Things have been… a lot lately."
"Mhm! Excuses."
Lira laughed softly. "How about this—we check the plants together now, and I promise I'll spend more time with you whenever I can."
At that, Ivvie brightened instantly, wings shimmering like droplets of light. "Deal!" She zipped toward the nearest row of flowers, beckoning Lira with an enthusiastic wave. "Come on! The frost blooms opened early today, you have to see them!"