It had been weeks since I set out from the floating island. My collection of magical creatures had grown, but the true treasure still awaited: the rare and elusive magical plants. My destination this time was a region whispered among wizards as the Verdant Veil — a mysterious and forgotten forest, hidden by illusions and protected by time.
I descended near a mist-covered valley, where the air smelled of life and enchantment. As soon as I passed through the veil, I felt the magic pulse like a heartbeat in the earth. Trees shimmered with glowing leaves. The bark of some emitted a faint hum, as if communicating in a language long forgotten.
I wandered deeper and encountered a group of ancient trees, majestic and towering, whose branches glowed in silver and gold tones. They were sentient — not merely enchanted, but aware. I approached them with caution, placing my wand away and bowing slightly. The magic responded with gentle rustles in the canopy, and soon I felt permitted to take some cuttings. These trees, known as "Whisperroots," were said to bond with those who respected them. I took saplings — more than one — and stored them carefully within my expanded space, knowing they would thrive under my regulated climate.
Further on, I discovered flowers that bloomed in rhythm with the moon phases, vines that floated through the air as if underwater, and glowing mushrooms that sang when touched. I documented each one, not only collecting them but learning about their needs, their effects, and their roles in the magical ecosystem.
In the heart of the forest, hidden beneath layers of ivy and spells of concealment, I found something extraordinary: a grove of Wand Trees. These were trees whose cores produced the highest-quality magical material used in wandmaking — wood infused naturally with phoenix essence, basilisk venom, or dragon heartstring-like energy. Any wandmaker would risk death to acquire one of these.
But I didn't just take a branch and leave. I set up protective magic around the area, marking the space as sacred. I transplanted several young trees into my magical domain, ensuring they would grow in peace, free from exploitation. My goal was preservation — not plunder.
I traveled next to icy peaks where frost-resistant flowers grew — "Snowbloom," used in powerful sleeping draughts. Then deserts, where cacti pulsed with healing mana. In every region, I collected not just the exotic, but the essential. I was curating a complete magical garden, one that could provide ingredients for potions, wandcrafting, and experimentation for centuries.
Back on the floating island, my expanded space began to take form as a true sanctuary. Groves, lakes, even a small mountain range magically formed to mimic the natural habitat of each species. Magical beasts roamed freely alongside sentient plants, and the air shimmered with balanced magical energy.
I realized I wasn't building just a collection — I was building a future. A library of life, a stronghold of magic, a refuge for endangered beings and rare arcane flora.