"Shall we begin then?" gran asked. I nodded happily.

"Your were making your way through a forest in the mountains when the sprites came to you. They bestowed your powers. If I were to guess by the location of

this gifting and the way in which you have been able to display your powers, I'd say that your inclination is most likely towards dryadic powers. The spell

that we'll be trying to cast is simple, even druids like to learn it. It is called tree growth."

She set the book aside in a very delicate manner. While focusing her gaze on a tiny spot in the earth, she lifted her right arm up. She also turned the

palm of her hand upwards at the same tame. Then, as if connecting with some sort of energy, she pointed ever so slightly forward with her middle finger.

"Fas Bü." Her words carried withing them the tranquility of a leaf drifting through air. The spell reached the point she had set her eyes on via green

particles very similar to the ones I had the ability to conjure. They were accumulating. When every little leaf had reached its destination the clump of

magical matter finally emitted a green flash before disappearing. Afterwards, only a tree sprout remained. Soon enough, as if goaded by some other presence,

the plant commenced its accelerated growth. It heightened, sprouted new branches, and reached my height before ceasing the rearing of its own self. Even

though thanks to Firdevie I was able to observe the farthest corners of the universe, what I had just witnessed seemed to be much more profound. It is one

thing to see, to sense, but it is quite unlike condensing a primordial process, such as growth, into a smaller temporal space. The concept seemed far more

intricate and compelling. I was watching everything she did with the most inquisitive eyes.

"Now," gran pointed to another spot "let us have you perform your own version of this over there. It is unkind to disturb that which nourishes the

world". Following her instructions, I took my place on slightly more comfortable patch of grass, and gran sat across from me.

"It will be difficult for you to perform this at first so let me guide you." She lifted her arm in the exact same manner as before. "With this motion

you tell the Sichocht what you want from it. In this case, you want to cultivate a tree in a timely manner." She then pointed her middle finger forward.

"This motion, if done properly, will connect the built-up energy of your arm to the base layer of magic, allowing you to call forth the potential you need

in order to cast your spell. When you are done, recite the name of the spell." She paused. "Do you want me to repeat, Farriz?"

I excitedly poked my head upwards: "No. Thank you". With immediacy, I began trying to conjure a tree. Trying to quickly raise my arm and perform

the hex yielded no results.

"Do not try to be swift yet, youngling. You cannot learn to run before you learn to walk." Taking her advice into account, I tried again slowly. When I

tried to connect with my finger and direct the energy into the ground, nothing happened. I lifted my hand once more, collecting as much magic as possible

within my hand, but when I made and attempt to connect it fizzled out once more.

"Ease your mind, and try to smoothly transition between motions." I did as she asked and as I was pointing with my finger, the magical presence ran through

me. It was time to say the spell.

"Fas Bü!"

A small number of tiny, viridescent particles flew out of the nothingness and into the ground. A measly glowing mound formed right before it went away in a

minuscule flash of light. The beginnings of a sprout were left on the floor. It was far smaller than the one Firdevie had conjured up. Her usually merry

face was expressionless.

"I abhor dishonesty, and so I must tell you something Farriz." My ears pricked up.

"Your performance is far less impressive than others I've seen. Keep that in mind, but do not be discouraged. You've the interest to improve yourself and

what you do. You may not be good yet, but you will be if your passion burns well enough." The pinch of disappointment showed itself to me. Firdevie must

have pierced through my emotionless veil as she added: "I believe in you."

"Thank you, grandma" I said quietly. She smiled. What a lovely smile it was.

"What does 'abhor' mean?" I said.

"It means to strongly dislike, dear." She turned her head to the sky immediately afterwards. It was clear she was trying to discern something.

"We sadly don't have much time left."

"What? We're leaving?" I objected. "There are so many books and things there, I want to read."

"You can read again, kindheart. We will come back. It's just that we don't have much time for now."

I nodded, as to convey my new outlook on the situation. Firdevie got up (I began following her), and took the green book into the shack and placed it back

in its original place. We got out of the front door and as she was locking it, she said: "I know how much you want to come back here. We will visit this

place again, I assure you."

As we began our trip back home I asked her where all these ancient tomes and texts had come from.

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"Most of them were gifted to me by a friend..." she paused. "...and I helped write some of them." I stared at her with an expression of surprise. "Yes,

indeed. Some of them explain spells created by us, Brórur." She sighed as if she was responding to a wind calling her home. "Our people, Farriz." I looked

at her with the same curiosity I had displayed when she was casting her tree spell. "Really? I've never heard of them." She stopped dead in her tracks. Her

closed eyes and expressionless face seemed confusing at first, but I quickly saw through the pain she was trying to hide. "Come close, dear." The normal

self-assured mannerisms I knew her by had given way to a timid yet courageous stance. I did as she asked. Her hands tenderly grabbed me by the shoulders as

she sang her truth, unbowed.

"Listen to me very carefully, dear. You and I, we are Brórur. That is our people's name. The people around us don't like us. They want us to be gone. They want our language and culture to be erased, they want us to die. It is not pleasant but it is the truth." I gulped in

between her words. "We can fight this. You can fight this. When you grow up, you can teach people our language, our songs, our stories. When you have

children you can give them Brórurçe names. No matter what you do, do not let us die. You must live on. You are my hope." She landed a gentle kiss on my

forehead. "Do not tell anyone about this conversation, okay kindheart?"

"Yes." I was compliant.

"I love you."

Two sojourns decorated the roads of Gatcregelád that day. Firdevie took us on an alternate route on the way back. The normal way was the fastest, but this

path was laden with autumnal breezes, jubilant birds and calm rivers. "Be like the rivers," she said as we were walking, "and you'll no doubt unlock your

full potential."

I saw sparrows for the first time on this road. Before this walk with her I didn't tend to think of sparrows as much of anything. For me they were a sound,

a sonic ornament and not much more. The road also happened to go through a forest, and I was finally able to see the beautiful things myself. Up until that

point I knew that they were birds, but I always liked to characterize them as miniature birds in my mind. Never seeing them led me to believe in their

invisibility. Upon seeing one, I became fascinated with them. They weren't painted with the common extravagance of a raven dressed in black, they were

ambassadors of the humble brown and white. They were small (although not nearly as small as I'd anticipated) so it was easy to find them adorable. I fell in

love with sparrows that day. Slowly but surely we mad our way back home.

"You two are late." My mother remarked without even bothering to greet us. "Why?"

Resolute, gran responded: "I showed my grandson a few important things."

"I hope it really was important, not being able to see my daughter is distressing." Her way of referring to me made me want to shrivel up.

"I ask you to get out of the doorway." said gran.

"Not until you call her your granddaughter." Firdevie stood completely still amongst the deadly silence that followed. She had become a maelstrom of fear so

strong even I could feel it. Her eyes were oblivion, her face was death. At last, my mother relented. "Fine!" she shouted. "Have it your way you hag!"

"Thank you!" she said cheerfully as we made our way inside.

For the rest of the day, I remained outside. Refusing to play with other children, my sole focus was being able to properly cast Fas Bü. My first few

attempts were quite similar to each other as I tried ever so desperately to make magic happen. I would forget to do something, or I would forget to say

the actual "Fas Bü" line. Eventually though, I started being able to eventually initiate the spell. At this point the problem I was facing was one of muscle

memory. I refer to it as a muscle memory, but it would be better described as a "magical sense". The manipulation of the Sichocht was done via with magical

sense. This reflex was surprisingly close to moving a muscle in feeling.

I kept training this sense. At this point some of the sprouts I was making were slightly bigger than the one I had originally made, and some were smaller.

Sometimes nothing showed up at all. Hours were passing, some of the nearby children were eager to make me join their games, and I was persistent in not

doing that. At some point some of the kids who didn't know about my abilities called me insults but I couldn't bother to care. What was actually bugging me

was this spell. I was making no apparent progress. Very occasionally a somewhat sizable baby tree (about as big as my arm) would appear, but even though it

was better than what I had achieved before it would be an inconvenience. I had somewhat blindly accepted Firdevie's reasoning, and as a result I did not

want to displace the saplings that were decently big.

When I had grown a little too tired and angry to continue, I sat down on the floor. I didn't want to do it again. All the work I did had yielded next to no

fruit. The wretched haze of worthlessness loomed over me. If I couldn't even perform this rudimentary spell, how could I ever hope to get good at magic? Why

would anyone have any reason to care about me?

Firdevie would care.

Like the guiding star on wintry night, she was there. Her love, her smile. My parents were ready to discard my wishes at any moment, but she wasn't.

A breeze dissipating the mist of despair, her devotion wouldn't falter no matter my achievements. It was certain that I would fail, but I would always be

cared for. In light of this realization, I sat down and tried again.

The sun was beginning to touch the horizon, yet I felt more refreshed than ever. My mind and muscles were ready to begin anew. Setting my eyes on the spot

where I planned on making the tree, I lifted my hand with perfect smoothness. While touching the aether that was about to grant me my spell, with perfect

intonation, I said the spell's name:

"Fas Bü."

Particles that were far more numerous than any of my singular attempts apparated and started collecting on the ground. When the pile they created had

reached appropriate size, they disappeared with a powerful flash of light. My tree began growing. Swiftly as well. Within a few seconds, it had reached my

standing height. It only lengthened a little bit more after that. At the end of the ordeal, I had done it. I had successfully cast Fas Bü.

I must've looked very stupid when I began jumping out of joy. I then began running home as fast as I could. Gran had to hear this. She was getting out of

the house as we saw each other.

"Slow down son, what's the matter?" I ran up to her and gave her the nicest hug I could. "There!" I screamed. "Look at the tree!" She respectfully did as I

asked, and then turning her head towards me she said:

"Determined as ever, I see?" I could see the pride in her face. "You have a will of steel. That is quite valuable in a dryad, such as you." I giggled.

"Come inside, kindheart," she added. "You deserve a nice rest."