Evelyn Andrews ran through the corridor of the Red Magic faculty, late for the second time this week. She was out of breath, sweaty, her hands full with lesson supplies, and her vision obscured by a tangle of hair and the awkward branches of a lemon tree. It would have been so much easier if she wasn't the one leading the class. She hoped she could get to the classroom unnoticed.

No such luck.

Out of everyone she could run into, it had to be the headmaster of the Academy of Light, stepping out of an adjoining corridor at the worst possible moment. The same headmaster she would soon need to ask about a permanent position at the Academy.

She barely avoided a collision—a hair’s breadth between keeping her balance and falling straight into him. The only saving grace was that she managed to keep the pots in her hands from crashing to the floor.

"Miss Evelyn! Don’t keep your students waiting. If we won’t uphold standards, who will?" The headmaster, an elegant man in his early forties, spoke with a stern voice, surprise flickering across his face as he came to an abrupt halt.

"I’m sorry, it won’t happen again!" she stammered through the branches still stuck in her face. But he was already walking away.

Embarrassed, she hurried to the classroom.

Most of the students were already in their seats, prepared with stained glass lenses, prisms, and notebooks. The wealthier ones had crystals. Evelyn set her supplies down, took a steadying breath, and opened a window to let in some fresh air. She maneuvered around the plants crowding the space: a rhododendron with pale white petals blushing pink at the edges, a pot of spring gentians with their vivid blue flowers, a dwarfed pear tree, and even a physalis with its red, lantern-like fruits. All still flowering or fruiting despite October’s reign.

The classroom resembled a greenhouse, with plants and vegetables cultivated and stacked along the walls, their growth gradually encroaching on some of the student tables—there was never quite enough room for new seedlings. Amid the greenery, the space was also dotted with common glass instruments essential for teaching the magic of light.

The plants weren’t confined to the classroom, either. The Red Magic faculty had its own greenhouses filled with exotic and rare specimens, many used in potion-making, including some especially sensitive to light. The classroom walls were decorated with hand-painted watercolor posters of field plants and insects essential for potions that enhanced red mages' abilities. Most of these specimen could be found exhibited in glass cabinets in the gallery of the faculty.

"Welcome to class. Apologies for my lateness; let’s proceed with the lesson as planned," Evelyn said, her tone brisk yet composed. Her gaze flickered to Jeremy, who rolled his eyes with an air of impatience. She was all too familiar with his attitude. Being the valedictorian, he seemed to believe it gave him the right to look down on an assistant like her. Yet, despite her experience, his disdain still managed to rattle her nerves whenever she faced the class.

That part of working at the Academy she did not care for. Her passion lied in research, she preferred to stay in the library, buried between the books and reading up on theories. She wasn't particularly exceptional at her work (hence the lack of a permanent position) but she loved learning about magic theory and searching for new ways to apply it, to expand its use.

Evelyn launched into the lesson, gesturing to the pots she had brought. "Today we’ll continue where we left off last time. I’ll demonstrate, and afterward, you’ll have a chance to practice. Next week, Professor Pendell will test your skills, so pay attention."

She pointed at the plants. "Now, who can tell me what these are and how we use them?"

A few hands shot up. Maybe her day wasn't so unlucky, if the students had enough motivation to be active in class. Evelyn nodded to Claire, a clever blonde girl in the second row.

"That’s a lemon tree, a rose, and... a carrot?" Claire ventured.

Some students stifled giggles, but Evelyn ignored them.

"Correct. Now, who can explain what red mages can do with these plants?"

Jeremy smirked. "We can eat them."

Laughter rippled through the room, but Evelyn let it slide. She couldn’t afford to antagonize one of the Academy’s star students, not when her own position was precarious.

"Jeremy," she said calmly, "being the best means maintaining certain standards. If you aspire to lead someday, remember that."

Jeremy’s face reddened. He was known to dream of joining the Royal Magical Advisor Board, a prestigious body dominated by blue mages. Even his prominent family and natural talent wouldn’t guarantee him a place there.

"Try again," Evelyn prompted.

Jeremy exhaled sharply but replied, "We can cultivate them, increase their growth and fruit production, encourage earlier flowering, and, in the case of the rose, alter the petal color or seed yield."

"Exactly. And the limitations of red magic?" she asked.

Another student raised a hand. “Time. We can’t speed up growth indefinitely, only a small part each season. Distance, since we need to be close to the plants and see the light source, and equipment to help focus the light magic. And uncertainty of course.”

“Good,” Evelyn said. “But you missed one key challenge: precision. Plants are notoriously finicky. Some, like the pellax fern, need just a touch of morning sunlight, but give them too much at the wrong time, and you’ll end up with dried trunks and fallen leaves. Precision is what makes a great red mage. Our role is more important than most people realize. Red mages are responsible for crops, food supply, and even land management. We prevent famines and floods by carefully planning the placement of trees and crops.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Seeing the students grow restless, she added, “Enough theory—let’s move to practice.”

Energy filled the room as students gathered around the demonstration table. Evelyn called on Jenny, a brown-eyed girl.

“Do you have your lens?”

Jenny held up a small circular piece of glass. Evelyn nodded. “Good. Choose a plant and begin.”

Jenny stepped to the lemon tree and raised one hand over it, holding the lens in the other. Sunlight streamed through the classroom’s glass ceiling—a necessary feature for the studies. Lessons such as this one could only be held in perfect weather conditions, when the sun was strong enough for a beginner to be able to use it.

“Focus on the light,” Evelyn said. “Feel it become a part of you. Use the lens to gather the red parts of the light and guide them to the plant. Slowly. Plants grow on their own terms.”

After a few moments, she nodded. “That’s enough.”

Jenny stopped, and Evelyn gestured for the class to look closely. “See how the leaves are just a little shinier? A bit greener? The change is subtle but meaningful. A a trained eye will catch it. Regular care like this can significantly speed up growth.”

Two more students took turns practicing before Evelyn assigned homework to study the habits of the plants they worked with. She dismissed the class and left, exhausted.

Evelyn left the classroom, fatigue weighing heavily on her. She made her way to the assistants’ office on the far side of the building, determined to prepare the next day’s lesson and catch up on the mountain of work she’d fallen behind on.

She sighed deeply, her thoughts drifting to her thesis on the ancient history of plant magic and its uses. Progress had stalled for weeks. The historical sources she relied on were sparse and incomplete, and her ambitious theory—linking ancient magical communities to regions abundant in plant life—seemed to be heading nowhere.

She couldn’t answer a question: had mages expanded pre-existing green areas, or had they cultivated lush environments from barren land? Her resources offered little clarity. The fragments she pieced together—a mix of ancient potion recipes, patchy historical records, and local legends—blurred fact and fiction to such an extent that separating them felt impossible.

Still, she couldn't help but be captured by the complexity of different approaches to the plants that different ancient populations displayed. Some of them believed that the plants were sacred and as such should be left alone.

Others—her personal favorites—placed red mages at the fillars of society, treating them as divine providers of sustenance. In those cultures, red mages were elevated, akin to gods, a far cry from the present reality.

It was difficult to believe that red mages would be treated better than the blue mages. That certainly hadn't been the case for a long time.

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Thankfully, Evelyn was alone in the office. She could rest without interruptions. The walls were draped with ivy that curled and crawled over almost every surface, giving the room an almost secretive air. Setting her backpack aside, her eyes fell on a note placed neatly on her desk beside her half-empty ink bottle. The handwriting was elegant and tall.

Dear Ms. Andrews,

please come see me in my office this afternoon at 3 pm, after you have concluded your lectures.

Respectfully,

Orpheus Mellert

Evelyn’s throat tightened. Orpheus Mellert, the headmaster of the Academy, wasn’t just any superior—he was a member of the Royal Magical Board and one of the most renowned mages in the kingdom. A summons like this was never casual. Her thoughts jumped to her earlier tardiness. Was this about that? Explaining herself to someone of Mellert’s stature was unthinkable. Her nerves gnawed at her composure as she glanced at the wall clock. It was already ten to three. She didn't even have time to prepare or gather her thoughts.

Hurriedly, she tried to tame her hair with a pearl hairpin, a birthday gift from a friend. The curls refused to cooperate, and after a few attempts, she gave up. She left the office and made her way to the headmaster’s quarters.

Taking a steadying breath, Evelyn knocked on the heavy oak door. Inside, the headmaster’s office was as imposing as she imagined: spacious, lined with bookshelves crammed with tomes on light magic, history, and political reports from neighboring kingdoms. A large desk dominated the center of the room, its surface scattered with documents and a beautifully encrusted typing machine.

“Miss Andrews,” Mellert greeted her, looking up from his work. “I'm glad you found the time to meet with me. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to a cushioned chair opposite him.

Evelyn sat down, fidgeting under his piercing gaze. She felt inadequate in the presence of one of her idols. She had hoped to pass her years at the Academy without ever attracting his attention.

“I understand you’re working here as an assistant to Professor Pendell,” Mellert began, “and that you aspire to secure a permanent position at the Academy.”

She nodded, her heart pounding.

“I’ve reviewed your research,” he continued, his tone measured. “I have to admit—while they are good—they are not exceptional.”

Evelyn’s stomach sank. This was it. Her efforts weren’t enough. She’d chosen a career path that demanded more than she could offer, and now she was about to face the humiliation of hearing it from the very person she admired most. She felt her hands turn sweaty.

Mellert’s expression softened slightly. “However, I don’t believe in quick judgments. I see potential in you, Miss Andrews. Your dedication to your work is clear.”

Her breath hitched as she waited for his next words.

“I have a proposition for you,” he said. “An extremely important endeavor is underway: the creation of a magical artifact that, if successful, could become one of the most significant discoveries of this century—perhaps even in the recent history of magic.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “The project is strictly confidential. I cannot share specifics until you agree to participate.”

He leaned forward slightly. “This requires the combined effort of the best mages and engineers in the kingdom. We need as much help as we can get. I would like to offer you a part in this project, not a large one, but a part nonetheless. It’s an opportunity to hone your skills, and success here could greatly enhance your chances of securing a permanent position. Unfortunately I cannot say much more than this before you agree, as I was personally sworn to secrecy by the King.”

“I must warn you,” Mellert added, his tone grave. “This project is protected by the highest secrecy. Sharing any details, even with close confidants, would be considered an act of treason.”

For a moment, Evelyn couldn’t speak, her mind racing. Sensing her hesitation, Mellert continued, “You don’t have to give me an answer right now…”

“Yes, I’ll do it,” Evelyn said, the words escaping almost as soon as she overcame the initial shock. This was her chance—her opportunity to prove herself and secure the position she had longed for. The details could come later; what mattered most was that her dream was still within reach. A spark of hope flickered to life within her, and she would do everything that this work required to be successful.

The headmaster’s expression softened into a warm, knowing smile.

“That’s excellent news. I’ll admit, I was hoping you’d agree—it would be a shame to lose someone with such potential.”

Evelyn’s heart raced, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through her. The gravity of the project wasn’t lost on her. She felt nervous excitation at the prospect of working on a project so important, it had to be protected by a treason punishment.

“I’m afraid I don’t have time to introduce you to the project myself,” Mellert continued. “You’ll be working closely with Professor Hart and his assistant. In fact, his assistant should be here shortly to brief you and explain everything in detail.”