The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the academy grounds. Long shadows stretched across the cobblestone paths, hinting at the day's slow transition into evening. The earlier vibrancy of the day had softened, giving way to a more contemplative, serene atmosphere.
Kate stood by the infirmary window, her eyes fixed on the herb garden just beyond the glass. The events of the day still clung to her thoughts, a weight she couldn’t easily shake. The quiet hum of distant conversations mingled with the rustling leaves.
Outside, Professor Honey moved through the garden with practised ease, carefully harvesting herbs as she hummed a light, almost whimsical tune. Despite the tranquil scene, Kate couldn’t ignore the unease that prickled at the edges of her awareness. Something felt different—a subtle tension in the air that hadn’t been there before as if the very atmosphere had shifted, charged with an unfamiliar energy.
The morning's events played on a loop in Kate's mind, entwined with fragmented memories she hadn’t recalled before, but that now struggled to piece together. The roots she had been told about, the fire from her nightmare, the people screaming in pain, and then Elara's face just before that ball of lava struck.
"Ah, Kate, are you feeling better?" Professor Honey’s voice, warm and gentle, pulled her from her thoughts. The professor's smile was soft, filled with concern.
"Just a little tired," Kate replied, her gaze drifting back to the garden. The sight of the thriving greenery seemed to call to her, offering a brief respite from the turmoil in her mind. "Do you mind if I take a walk in your garden? I need to clear my head," she asked, turning her attention back to the professor.
"Of course, dear. Go ahead," Professor Honey responded, already moving toward the kettle to prepare a fresh pot of tea.
"Thank you," Kate murmured as she made her way to the door. The cool air greeted her as she stepped outside, carrying with it the earthy scent of soil and the faint fragrance of herbs. The garden was a peaceful retreat, a small haven where nature reigned supreme. Before her, two stone paths diverged: one leading deeper into the garden, and the other toward what appeared to be a greenhouse.
She chose the left path first, her footsteps soft against the floor as the stone tiles turned to gravel, she wandered toward the greenhouse. The melodic chirping of birds filled the air, and Kate looked up to see several nests perched high in the branches above. A smile tugged at her lips as she spotted a red jay, its feathers a vivid crimson, almost like fresh blood, with delicate accents of white, black, and a touch of blue.
As she watched, one of the red jays took flight, revealing a small cluster of eggs nestled securely within the nest. The sight of them, so fragile yet brimming with potential, brought a sense of quiet contentment. Nearby, a blue jay, nearly blending in with the sky, preened its vibrant feathers, its presence a subtle reminder of the hidden beauty all around her.
Kate’s smile lingered as she continued her walk, her attention now drawn to the array of herbs and plants lining the path. Some were familiar—sage, with its soft, velvety leaves, and rosemary, its scent stirring memories of home. But others were unfamiliar, their names and uses a mystery.
One particular plant caught her eye: the Star Herb. Its petals shimmered with a luminous, ethereal glow, resembling the soft light of distant stars. Tiny spots of yellow-white light danced across the petals, giving the impression of miniature constellations twinkling in the gentle afternoon light. Intrigued, Kate bent down to take a closer look, captivated by the delicate beauty of the plant.
Next to it stood an empty pot, unmarked and unplanted, a silent enigma amid the flourishing herbs. Kate pondered its purpose, her thoughts momentarily wandering to what might have been planned for the vacant spot. Straightening up, she continued her walk and arrived at the greenhouse, sliding open the glass door.
Inside, the greenhouse felt oddly quiet. There were eight tables, each made of light oak wood, with two circular holes nearby the centre, likely meant for potted plants. Two chairs were neatly tucked beneath each table as if waiting for students to return. At the front of the classroom, was a long wooden table stretched out, with two similar holes in its surface, perhaps for more significant projects or displays.
The sides of the classroom were lined with wooden stands, but they, too, were empty. Kate noticed a door at the back, with a simple sign above it that read “Greenhouse.” Curiosity piqued, she walked towards it and slid the door open, stepping into a smaller, more specialized section.
Kate saw three distinct water biomes, each meticulously designed to replicate a different natural environment.
To the top left was a small, earthy pool of water, its surface calm and reflective. At the pool's centre lay a tranquil pond, where tiny mosses and water plants clung to the edges, forming a lush, green border. Delicate lily pads floated lazily on the water's surface, and the soft hum of insects filled the air. This peaceful corner exuded an atmosphere of serenity, it was a silent invitation to anyone who approached to have a break and to pause, to let one lose themselves in quiet contemplation.
To the top right, her attention was drawn to shelves that were lined with an array of equipment. Glass jars and containers were neatly arranged in perfect rows, their surfaces catching the light and reflecting the orderliness of the space. Each item had a specific place, and it was clear that these tools had been used with care earlier that day. A small washing station stood nearby, with a few droplets of water still clinging to its faucet, hinting at that recent activity. The tools, though simple, seemed essential to the nurturing and or harvesting of the vibrant plant life within the greenhouse.
Closer to the bottom left, near the door, a small, flowing river biome stretched out, creating a dynamic, living landscape. Deadwood lay artistically scattered along the riverbank, partially submerged in the clear, cool water. Moss and ferns grew in abundance, their vivid green hues contrasting beautifully with the earthy tones of the wood and rocks. The gentle sound of water trickling over the stones added a soothing melody to the space, making Kate feel as though she had stumbled upon a hidden forest stream.
To her bottom right was the most awe-inspiring feature: a deep, expansive pit of water that formed the ocean biome. The water was dark, mysterious, and seemingly bottomless, its surface barely disturbed by the occasional ripple. The depth of the pit gave the impression of an underwater abyss, where the unknown lurked just out of sight. It was both captivating and a little intimidating, evoking a sense of wonder and respect for the vastness of the ocean it represented.
Kate stood in the middle of the room, absorbing the rich variety of life contained within the biomes. She marvelled at the care and attention that had gone into creating these magical environments.
There were three more doors in the greenhouse, each with a sign that hinted at what lay beyond. The door to the left was labelled "Rare/Exotic," its weathered sign suggesting a collection of unique and possibly magical plants within. The middle door bore a sign that read "Under Construction," indicating that whatever was behind it was still in progress, perhaps a new biome or an expansion of the existing space. The door to the right, like the middle one, also read "Under Construction," reinforcing the idea that this greenhouse was a work in progress, constantly evolving to accommodate new discoveries and or experiments.
Kate's curiosity was piqued as she stood before the only door that she could open, the "Rare/Exotic" door intrigued her the most. What kind of plants could be hidden behind it? She imagined rare herbs with healing properties, or perhaps even plants with magical abilities that were beyond her understanding.
She reached out, her hand hovering over the doorknob, but something made her hesitate. The thought of what might be behind the "Under Construction" doors also tugged at her curiosity. What were they building? Could it be a new biome, or perhaps a space dedicated to a specific type of research?
After a moment of indecision, Kate decided to leave the doors unexplored for now. There was something about the quiet stillness of the greenhouse that made her want to absorb the atmosphere rather than rush into the unknown simply.
She turned back to the biomes, her gaze lingering on the ocean pit to her right. The water was so deep and dark that it seemed to absorb the light, creating an eerie, almost otherworldly feel. Kate found herself drawn to it, stepping closer until she could peer over the edge. The surface was calm, but she sensed a powerful force beneath, like the ocean itself was alive, watching her or something underneath was watching her.
A soft splash broke the silence, and Kate gasped, stepping back. Something had moved in the depths, but she couldn’t tell what it was. Her heart raced as she stared into the water, half-expecting whatever was down there to reveal itself.
But after a few moments of stillness, she realized it was likely just a fish or some other sea creature disturbed by her presence. Even so, the encounter left her feeling unsettled, and she backed away from the edge, deciding to explore the greenhouse further instead.
Kate made her way back to the small flowing river biome, where the sound of trickling water helped to calm her nerves. She crouched down, running her fingers through the moss that grew alongside the riverbank. The soft texture was comforting, and she took a moment to appreciate the simple beauty of the plants.
Kate’s eyes drifted back to the shelves lined with various equipment, a contrast to the natural beauty of the biomes. The tools were meticulously organized, each one placed with care, indicating that someone had been working in the greenhouse earlier that day. She walked over, her fingers lightly brushing against the cool surface of the glass jars and containers.
There were different sizes of jars, some filled with dried herbs and others empty, waiting to be used. Labels marked with neat, handwritten names indicated their contents—common herbs like lavender and thyme, but also more obscure ones like moonwort and dragon’s breath. The names alone conjured images of ancient rituals and forgotten magic.
Next to the jars, a row of neatly arranged tools caught her attention. There were delicate silver tongs, small enough to handle the most fragile of plants, and pruning shears that gleamed in the soft light. A mortar and pestle sat beside a set of small, intricately carved wooden boxes, likely used to store seeds or rare ingredients.
She noticed a brass magnifying glass with an ornate handle, its lens slightly smudged as if it had been used recently. It rested atop a pile of weathered parchment, covered in sketches of plants and notes in a script she couldn’t quite decipher. The drawings were detailed, showing the different stages of growth for various herbs, alongside notes on their magical properties.
A small, well-used notebook was tucked into the corner of the shelf, its cover worn from years of handling. Kate picked it up and flipped through the pages, finding entries that documented experiments, observations, and even personal thoughts. The handwriting was elegant yet hurried as if the writer had been too eager to record their discoveries to worry about their neatness.
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The First entry caught her eye:
"The star tree, as I have been calling it has been showing promise in response to the healing mixtures and fertilizers I have been creating for the tree. Its few petals shimmer with energy, reacting strongly to moonlight. Could be key in enhancing lunar-based spells, and or potions. Must test further when the moon is full next."
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Kate’s curiosity deepened as she read the notes, realizing that whoever had worked here was deeply knowledgeable about the intersection of magic and botany. The equipment, though seemingly mundane at first glance, was part of a larger, more intricate system of experimentation and discovery.
Most of the entries were of different methods of creating healing potions, and different tests done on samples, she replaced the notebook and moved on to the small washing station, where a few droplets of water still clung to the basin. Nearby, a wooden rack held an assortment of brushes and cloths, likely used to clean the tools after use. The attention to detail was impressive; it was clear that whoever maintained this greenhouse took great pride in their work.
Kate felt a respect for the unknown gardener or alchemist who had carefully curated this space. After exploring the room and taking in its carefully maintained beauty, her attention shifted to the only door she had yet to open so far. She approached it, her hand hovering over the handle as a wave of anticipation washed over her. For a moment, she hesitated, feeling the weight of the magic in the room beyond. It was stronger, and more potent than she ever felt.
With a gentle push, the door creaked softly on its hinges, the sound echoing in the stillness. Light spilled through the doorway, flooding the dim space she was in with brightness. As Kate stepped through, the magic in the air seemed to intensify, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She instinctively raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sudden influx of the afternoon sunlight, which cast long, golden rays through the rounded windows high on the walls.
As her eyes adjusted to the light, Kate looked down and noticed the floor beneath her feet. It was carved with intricate circular patterns and ancient symbols that pulsed faintly with hidden power. The scent of moist earth and unfamiliar plant life filled her senses, mingling with a faint metallic tang that lingered in the air—a smell that hinted at something alchemical.
Surveying the room, Kate’s gaze was drawn to the shelves lining the walls. They were filled with glass vials containing mysterious liquids, each one a different colours and consistency. There were jars of ingredients, some familiar, but many more that were beyond her knowledge—roots and herbs, dried flowers, and crystals that seemed to hum with energy. The atmosphere was thick with the feeling of ancient magic, as though the very walls held secrets passed down through generations of skilled practitioners.
In the centre of the room stood a large, circular table made of dark, polished wood that gleamed under the afternoon light. The surface was cluttered with an array of items that spoke of ongoing experiments—metal instruments, small piles of shimmering powders, and books left open, their pages filled with notes and diagrams. The scrawled handwriting detailed methods of healing, complex formulas, and theories on magical properties, as though the writer had been mid-thought and hurriedly jotted down their ideas.
On one end of the table, a mortar and pestle sat next to a burner, the tools of someone deeply engaged in the craft of alchemy. The burner was still warm to the touch, indicating recent use and a faint wisp of smoke curled lazily into the air, carrying with it the scent of herbs recently ground. Kate’s eyes drifted to the notes that were scattered across the table, some detailing attempts at healing, others describing experiments with new potions and salves.
At the far end of the room, something caught Kate's eye—a withering, sickly-looking tree, its twisted branches drooping under the weight of death. The once vibrant leaves had turned a dull brown, littering the area around the tree like forgotten memories. The contrast between the thriving greenery she had seen outside and this dying tree was stark, almost jarring.
The tree's bark was cracked and peeling, and a faint, almost imperceptible pulse of energy emanated from its core as if it were clinging to life by the thinnest of threads. Despite its sorry state, something was captivating about it, something that spoke of a once-great power now on the brink of being snuffed out.
Kate recalled the earlier entry about a tree, and she wondered if this was it, turning back to the table, Kate read a few entries, the first one titled Star Tree Part one.
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{Journal Entry – The Star Tree}
Date: 14th Day of Harvest Moon, Year 1173
Location: Unknown Meadow, Western Wilderness
The rumours were true. Deep within the heart of an untouched meadow, nestled between rolling hills and hidden by a thick canopy of ancient trees, we have found it—a tree unlike any other. Its bark shimmers faintly, capturing the golden hues of the setting sun, and its leaves, though sparse and wilting, hold a soft, silvery sheen that hints at the magic it once possessed. This is no ordinary tree; its presence seems to resonate with an ancient power as if it has stood guard over the meadow for countless generations.
Yet, despite its beauty, the tree appears to be on the brink of death. The meadow around it is alive with the vibrant energy of nature, yet the tree stands as a stark contrast—withered and struggling. Whether this decline is due to natural causes—perhaps the soil is no longer nourishing it—or some unseen magical interference, we cannot yet determine.
What makes this discovery even more perplexing is the complete absence of any records or mention of this tree in any known texts or archives. There are no accounts, no myths, no legends that speak of a tree like this—not even in the oldest tomes of ancient botany or magical lore. It is as if this tree has existed in secret, hidden from the world, known only to the meadow that has sheltered it for so long.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The roots, once firmly embedded in the rich earth, now seem to grasp desperately at the soil, seeking sustenance that eludes them. The leaves, though still possessing a faint glow, crumble to dust at the slightest touch. There is a profound sadness to the tree as if it is aware of its impending fate. It is as though the very life force of the meadow is slipping away from it.
We must act quickly if we are to save it. The delicate process of transporting it back to the greenhouse has already begun. There, in a controlled environment, we hope to stabilize its condition and, if possible, unlock the secrets hidden within its ancient wood. Perhaps, with the right care, we can coax it back to life and uncover the mysteries that have kept this tree alive for so long, even in the most secluded and tranquil of places.
End of Entry.
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Journal Entry 2
Date: [Date Missing]
Location: Greenhouse Laboratory
We successfully transplanted the Star Tree into the greenhouse today. The process was delicate, and I could sense the strain the tree was under. Its roots were almost too fragile as if they had been drained of life over the years.
After placing it in the enriched soil, I noticed a faint glow returning to its leaves, though it was fleeting. The tree seems to be responding, albeit weakly, to the controlled environment we’ve created. I’ve started monitoring the ambient magic levels, hoping to determine if the tree’s decline is indeed magical in nature.
Interestingly, there’s still no sign of this species in any of the ancient texts or botanical records I’ve consulted. It’s as if the Star Tree has been hidden from history, existing only in that remote meadow until now. The more I study it, the more I believe this tree is connected to something far older and more powerful than we can imagine.
For now, our primary focus will be stabilizing its condition and uncovering the nature of the magic—or curse—that may be affecting it. I can’t help but feel that the Star Tree holds secrets that could reshape our understanding of both magic and nature.
End of Entry
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Journal Entry 3
Date: [Date Missing]
Location: Greenhouse Laboratory
Another day of careful observation and the mystery of the Star Tree deepens. The glow in its leaves has become more consistent, though still faint as if it’s drawing strength from something unseen. Yet, despite our best efforts, the tree remains on the brink, its vitality ebbing and flowing like the tides.
I’ve begun experimenting with various magical infusions—simple spells of restoration, gentle healing auras, and even a few drops of elixirs known for revitalizing plant life. The results are inconsistent at best. The tree seems to absorb the magic, but the effects are temporary, fading as quickly as they appear.
One peculiar discovery: under the light of the full moon, the tree’s glow intensifies, almost as if it’s reaching out to the moonlight, trying to connect with it. It’s a fleeting moment, but it suggests a link to celestial energy. Could the tree be tied to the stars themselves, its life force connected to the cycles of the heavens?
There’s still no record of this species anywhere—no mention in the oldest scrolls, no hints in the oral histories passed down by the ancients. It’s as if the Star Tree is a relic from a forgotten age, a time when magic and nature were more deeply intertwined.
As I continue my work, I can’t shake the feeling that this tree was never meant to be found. Its existence feels like a secret, one the world wasn’t supposed to uncover. But now that we have, I’m determined to unlock its mysteries, whatever the cost. The Star Tree’s survival might hold the key to knowledge lost to time itself.
End Of Entry
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The entries were filled with fascinating details about the discovery of the mysterious tree that was hidden in a secluded meadow. The writer described the tree’s unusual appearance, its apparent decline, and the complete lack of records about it in any known texts. As Kate read, she felt a strange connection to the tree—a sense of curiosity and concern that tugged at her emotions.
Setting the journal aside, Kate approached the tree cautiously, her eyes tracing the lines of decay running through its bark. There was a sadness in its presence, a sense of lingering despair that seemed to seep into the very air around it. The leaves, once full of life, now lay crumbled and lifeless at her feet, as if the tree had been abandoned to its fate.
She reached out, her hand hovering just above the bark, feeling the faint warmth of the dying magic within. It was as if the tree were trying to communicate with her, to share its story before it was too late. The connection between the tree and the notes she had just read flickered in her mind—could this tree be tied to the experiments and the starlight essence mentioned in the notes?
Gently, she let her fingers graze the rough bark. As she made contact, a subtle warmth seeped from her skin into the tree, and in return, a coolness flowed into her palm, like a breath of fresh air on a hot day. The sensation was both comforting and strange, a mingling of her own energy with that of the tree.
The warmth from within the tree began to pulse faintly, responding to her touch. Kate closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the connection. It felt as though the tree was drawing something from her—strength, perhaps, or simply the presence of another living being, she could feel a faint energy seeping out. But in return, it offered her a glimpse of something beyond the physical: an impression of ancient roots stretching deep into the earth, of branches that had once reached for the stars, soaking in the essence of starlight itself.
The fleeting vision flashed through her mind—a memory that wasn’t hers, but the tree’s. It was of a time when the tree had been vibrant, glowing softly under a night sky filled with stars. The starlight had poured down its leaves like a gentle rain, infusing the tree with life and magic. And then, something had changed. The light had dimmed from within, and the tree had begun to wither and sink into itself, its connection to the stars was severed at some point.
A tear slid down Kate's face as the tree's last wish resonated deeply within her. The emotion in its silent plea struck a chord in her heart, amplifying her sense of loss and empathy. The tree seemed to yearn for a final glimpse of the stars, its branches reaching skyward as if they were trying to grasp the light of the celestial bodies above.
She glanced around the room, her gaze drawn to the small, narrow window high above the tree. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the glass, casting a warm, ethereal glow on the room’s stone walls. The window's dusty pane obscured the view, but a sliver of the outside world was still visible. The tree’s sorrowful wish to witness the stars once more seemed to magnify the weight of the moment. As she stood there, she felt a profound sense of responsibility—to honour the tree’s final wish.
The window was heavily covered in dust and grime, the filth so thick that it barely allowed any light to penetrate. The once-clear glass was now obscured by years of neglect, its surface mottled with dirt and cobwebs. However, Kate knew that if she could just manage to open it, even the smallest sliver of the evening sky could offer the tree a glimpse of the stars it so desperately longed for.
She glanced up at the window, a surge of determination igniting in her chest. The room around her was cluttered with the remnants of long-abandoned experiments—scattered papers, dusty vials, and tarnished equipment—but her focus was solely on fulfilling the tree's final wish. Kate’s eyes fell on a ladder propped against a nearby shelf, its wood worn but still sturdy. With swift, deliberate movements, she grabbed the ladder and positioned it carefully beneath the window. The rungs creaked slightly under her weight, but the ladder held firm as she began her ascent.
Climbing the ladder, each step creaked underfoot, echoing in the quiet room. When she reached the top, Kate wiped the dirt from the windowpane with her sleeve, revealing a sliver of the sky beyond. She struggled with the latch, her hands trembling with urgency. Finally, with a soft click, it gave way, and the window swung open. Cool evening air rushed into the room, carrying with it the distant scent of nightfall.
Kate leaned back, her gaze drifting upward as the first few stars began to emerge in the twilight sky. The tree’s branches seemed to stretch and reach towards the stars as if instinctively sensing their presence. A faint, ethereal shimmer of magic pulsed through the bark, momentarily reviving the tree's appearance. It was as if the tree, in its final moments, had found a fleeting connection to the cosmos.
A tear on Kate’s cheek glistened softly in the dim light as she descended the ladder, her heart weighed down yet uplifted by the profound moment. The sight of the stars had not healed the tree, but it had offered a small gesture of fulfilment. This simple act of kindness, a final gift to the tree, was a meaningful return for the brief but significant connection it had shared with her.
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{- Pov Mia -}
Mia sat quietly on the edge of the playground, her gaze distant as she watched the other kids run around, their laughter and giggles filling the air. Despite the cheerful scene before her, she couldn’t shake the lingering feelings of loss and longing that had settled deep in her chest. It was as if a part of her was missing, leaving a hollow ache that even the warmth of the afternoon sun couldn’t chase away.
“Mia?” a familiar voice called out, pulling her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Rosie, a young elf girl with bright, almond-shaped eyes that shimmered like emeralds in the sunlight. Rosie’s long, auburn hair fell in soft waves down her back, adorned with tiny wildflowers she had woven into her braids. Her delicate, pointed ears peeked out from beneath her hair, a common feature among her kind, but it only added to her ethereal charm. She had a small, upturned nose and rosy cheeks that made her look like she had just stepped out of a storybook.
Rosie’s slim, graceful frame was dressed in a simple, flowing tunic of forest green, cinched at the waist with a woven belt of gold and silver threads. The hem of her tunic was embroidered with intricate patterns of leaves and vines, a testament to the craftsmanship of her elven heritage. She wore soft leather sandals that barely made a sound as she walked, her every movement exuding a natural elegance that seemed almost effortless.
As Rosie broke away from the group of children, her curiosity was evident in the tilt of her head, her expression a mix of concern and warmth.
“Hey, Rosie,” Mia replied, managing a small smile. Rosie was the same age as Mia, both of them just nine years old, but there was a wisdom in Rosie’s eyes that sometimes made Mia feel like she was talking to someone much older.
Rosie plopped down beside her, the soft fabric of her tunic brushing against Mia’s arm. Her laughter from moments before was now replaced with concern. “Why aren’t you playing with the others? You seem so… far away,” Rosie said gently, her voice filled with the kind of empathy that was rare at their age.
Mia sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I don’t know, Rosie. I just… I feel like something’s missing like there’s something I should be doing, but I don’t know what it is. It’s hard to explain.”
Rosie nodded thoughtfully, her gaze turning towards the other children, who were still lost in their games. “Maybe you’re just tired, or maybe it’s something more. Have you talked to anyone about it? Sometimes sharing what you’re feeling can help.”
Mia shook her head, the idea of putting her feelings into words feeling like an impossible task. “I don’t even know what to say. It’s just this feeling, like a weight in my chest that won’t go away. It’s been there for weeks now.”
Mia sighed deeply, her eyes drifting away from Rosie as she stared at the ground, the weight of her thoughts pulling her down. Before she could say anything more, a gentle yet firm voice called out, “Rosie.”
Both girls turned to see an elven woman approaching them, her presence commanding yet graceful. She was tall and slender, with the same auburn hair as Rosie, though hers was streaked with hints of silver, adding to her aura of wisdom and age. Her eyes, a deeper shade of green, held a warmth that contrasted with the sharpness of her gaze.
The woman wore a flowing gown of rich, earthy tones, adorned with delicate patterns of leaves and flowers, much like Rosie’s tunic but far more intricate. The fabric shimmered in the sunlight, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. Around her neck, she wore a pendant shaped like a crescent moon, glowing faintly with an inner light.
Rosie immediately stood up, her demeanour shifting to one of attentiveness. “Yes, Mother?” she replied, her voice respectful but still tinged with the innocence of youth.
The woman, clearly Rosie's mother, gave her daughter a soft smile before turning her gaze to Mia. “Mia, it’s good to see you,” she said kindly, though there was an unspoken question in her tone as if she was trying to understand the sadness in Mia’s eyes.
Mia managed a small nod, feeling a bit self-conscious under the woman’s penetrating gaze. “Hello, ma’am,” she responded quietly.
Rosie’s mother nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Rosie, it’s time to come inside. We have some preparations to make before the evening.”
Rosie glanced back at Mia, a hint of reluctance in her eyes. “Alright, Mother. I’ll be right there.” She turned to Mia, giving her a reassuring smile. “We’ll talk later, okay? And if you ever want to tell me what’s on your mind, I’m here.”
Mia smiled faintly, appreciating the offer, even if she wasn’t ready to open up just yet. “Thanks, Rosie. I’ll see you later.”
With a final nod, Rosie followed her mother, leaving Mia alone once more. As they walked away, Mia couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy for the close bond Rosie seemed to share with her mother. It reminded her of something she longed for but couldn’t quite grasp—an unspoken connection that made everything feel a little less heavy.
Mia watched her friend walk away, as she then turned to her error-filled screen.
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Mia’s Character Sheet
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Name: Mia
Age: Nine
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Magic: Error Code 1xc597
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Abilities: None
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Magical Sense: (Locked - Error Code 4xz312)
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Status: System Malfunction Detected - Data Corruption Present
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Mia’s system screen had appeared after the harrowing incident with the young woman who had saved her. The memory of the village’s destruction lingered in her mind, leaving Mia feeling lost and alone in the world. The setting sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone streets, the coolness of the evening air sending a chill down her spine.
Rising to her feet, Mia began to walk towards the main street. The path inclined slightly as she moved forward, the distant murmur of conversations growing louder with each step. As she reached the top of the incline, she paused, noticing a small crowd gathered around an old withered tree ahead.
“It’s bloody awakening, that’s what,” an older man said, his voice rough with disbelief as he stared at the tree.
“That it is. Do you think the Magic Academy knows about it?” a young woman asked, holding a woven wooden basket close to her chest.
“I heard the Headmistress came out the other day to check on it herself,” another person added. “She had a word with the mayor, then left shortly after that.”
Curiosity piqued, Mia edged closer to get a better look at the tree. It had once been a sorry sight—its bark a sickly greyish-black, its branches barren and lifeless. But now, as she gazed up at it, Mia could see that the tree had transformed. The bark had taken on a rich, earthy brown hue, and delicate, ethereal leaves were beginning to sprout from the limbs above. The change was nothing short of miraculous, a sign of renewed life where death had once held sway.
Mia felt a strange sense of connection to the tree’s revival as if its awakening mirrored something deep within her. The voices of the villagers buzzed around her, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the tree, wondering what had caused this sudden and unexpected renewal.
Mia took a hesitant step closer, her gaze still fixed on the tree. The small crowd around it buzzed with speculation, their whispers blending into a low hum. The air felt different here, charged with a faint magical energy that seemed to pulse in time with her own heartbeat. It was as if the tree was calling to her, urging her to come closer, to understand something that lay just out of reach.
She glanced around, noticing how the villagers’ faces reflected a mixture of fear and hope. They were captivated by the tree’s transformation, yet wary of what it might mean. The mention of the Headmistress from the Magic Academy only added to the air of unease. What had she seen? What had she said to the mayor that caused her to leave so quickly?
Mia’s thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of something brushing against her leg. She looked down to see a small cat, its fur a blend of earthy browns and greys, winding itself around her ankles. The cat’s green eyes met hers, and for a moment, Mia felt a strange kinship with the creature, as if they were both searching for something they couldn’t quite name.
The cat meowed softly, its voice a gentle, yet insistent plea. Mia crouched down and reached out a hand, letting the cat sniff her fingers before it nuzzled into her palm. The warmth of its fur against her skin was comforting, a small connection in the midst of so much uncertainty.
"Hey there," Mia whispered, stroking the cat's back. The soft purr that followed was like a soothing balm to her frayed nerves.
She stood up, casting one last glance at the newly revived tree before turning to continue up the street. The cat, with its quiet grace, followed her without hesitation, weaving in and out of her steps as if it had chosen Mia as its companion.
As Mia walked, she couldn’t help but feel a little lighter, the cat’s presence giving her a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in a long time. The streets were beginning to empty as dusk approached, the golden hues of the setting sun casting long shadows over the cobblestone paths. The familiar scents of evening fires and distant cooking drifted through the air, mixing with the earthy scent of the cat by her side.
The cat meowed again, this time with a little more urgency, as if urging her to keep moving. It darted down a narrow alleyway, its small form disappearing into the shadows. Mia hesitated for a moment, then followed, curiosity piqued.
As she approached the alley, she could see the cat waiting for her at the entrance, its eyes glowing brightly in the dim light. The alley was lined with tall, overgrown hedges and scattered with old, weathered crates. The cat meowed again, this time with a more insistent tone, as if urging her to follow it further.
Mia quickened her pace, her heart beating with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. She navigated the winding path, glancing around at the forgotten corners of the village. The alley seemed to twist and turn, leading her deeper into a part of the village she didn’t often visit.
Finally, the cat stopped in front of a small, abandoned building. The door hung loosely on its rusted hinges, barely clinging to a rotting wooden frame. The cat slipped through the gap and meowed from inside, the sound echoing faintly through the empty street.
Mia hesitated for a moment before following the cat into the dimly lit interior. As she crossed the threshold, her shoes crunched on the scattered debris of a once-lived-in home. The first room was a shadow of its former self, with an overturned table in the centre, its legs splayed out awkwardly. The wooden floor was littered with rotting planks and dust, and a musty odour filled the air, mingling with the faint smell of mildew.
Navigating through a narrow hallway, Mia spotted the cat sitting on a patch of less-dilapidated floor, staring intently at her with its green eyes. "Hey, where are you taking me?" Mia asked softly, her voice echoing slightly in the eerie silence. The cat gave itself a quick, almost nonchalant groom before pausing to look up at her with a solemn gaze.
The cat then turned and padded toward a door at the end of the hallway. With a quiet creak, the door swung open, and the cat disappeared into the darkness beyond.
Mia approached the doorway, her heart pounding as she peeked inside. The sight before her caused a small, heart-wrenching sob to escape her lips. On a tattered bed lay the lifeless body of a cat with earthy browns and greys, its fur matted and its eyes closed forever. Nestled against its side were three tiny kittens, their small, fragile forms a poignant reminder of the life that had been lost.
Mia's gaze was drawn to one of the kittens, a tiny orange ball of fur. Its eyes were tightly shut, and it wiggled weakly, its tiny cries barely audible. A tear slid down Mia’s cheek as she stepped forward, her heart aching for the orphaned creature. Gently, she picked up the orange kitten, which let out a soft purr of comfort as it settled into her hand.
“Hey there, shhh. I’ve got you. You’re safe,” Mia whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. She turned around and noticed a faint ray of moonlight filtering through a broken window, casting an ethereal glow on a ghostly figure. The spectral cat stood there, its form shimmering softly as it looked back at Mia with sad, luminous eyes.
“You led me here for your kitten, didn’t you?” Mia said quietly. The ghostly cat did not speak but gave a slight nod, turning its head to glance back at its own lifeless body on the bed.
“I will protect your kitten,” Mia promised, her voice resolute. The spectral cat’s eyes seemed to soften with a mixture of relief and gratitude. With a final, lingering look, the ghostly cat began to fade, dissolving into the moonlight as it disappeared.
Holding the tiny kitten close in her cradled arms, Mia stepped out of the abandoned building, determined to protect the small, orphaned creature and honour the ghostly cat's silent plea.