A few days had passed since Briar’s breakthrough with fire magic, and she was feeling more confident than ever. Her connection to the elements had grown stronger, and though she still had moments of doubt, she was beginning to trust herself—and her magic—more with each day.

Her garden, which had been the source of so much chaos and confusion, seemed to be thriving as well. The plants were in perfect harmony, the vines no longer attempted to strangle the fence, and even the rebellious zucchinis had calmed down. It was almost peaceful.

Almost.

Briar stood at the edge of her garden, eyeing a patch of particularly aggressive-looking roses with suspicion. They hadn’t been causing any trouble lately, but there was something about the way their thorns glinted in the sunlight that made her uneasy.

"Are you talking to the roses again?" Myrtle’s voice rang out as she strolled up the path, a basket of herbs in hand.

Briar sighed, turning to her with a half-smile. "They’ve been a little too quiet lately. I don’t trust it."

Myrtle laughed, setting her basket down on the garden bench. "You know, most people would love to have a quiet garden."

"Most people don’t have plants that stage revolts," Briar muttered, eyeing the roses warily.

Myrtle shrugged, plucking a sprig of lavender from her basket. "Fair point. But your plants seem happy enough. I think you’re just paranoid."

"Maybe," Briar admitted. "But after everything that’s happened, can you blame me?"

Myrtle chuckled. "True. Well, I brought you some herbs to add to your collection. Maybe they’ll balance out any rebellious energy from your roses."

Briar smiled, accepting the herbs with a nod. "Thanks. Hopefully, they’ll keep everything in check."

As they stood there, chatting about the latest magical gossip from the village, Briar noticed something strange out of the corner of her eye. The roses, which had been still moments ago, were now… moving. Their thorny vines were creeping along the ground, slithering like snakes toward the vegetable patch.

"Uh, Myrtle," Briar said, her voice tense. "The roses are doing something."

Myrtle turned, her eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, no."

Before Briar could react, the rose vines shot forward, wrapping themselves around the zucchinis with a speed that left Briar breathless. The zucchinis, who had been enjoying their peaceful existence for the past few days, let out a series of indignant squeaks as the roses tightened their grip.

"Not again," Briar groaned, rushing forward to try and stop the vines. But the roses were faster than she expected. They twisted and coiled around the zucchinis, their sharp thorns glinting in the sunlight as they prepared to strike.

Myrtle grabbed a nearby gardening tool, waving it at the roses as if she could scare them off. "Hey! Back off, you thorny menaces!"

The roses, however, seemed to be in no mood for negotiation. Their vines tightened further, and Briar’s heart raced as she saw the zucchinis begin to wilt under the pressure.

Stolen story; please report.

"This is bad," Briar muttered, her mind racing for a solution. She didn’t want to use too much magic and risk another garden-wide revolt, but she couldn’t just stand by and let the roses crush the zucchinis.

"Can’t you, like, talk to them or something?" Myrtle asked, still trying to fend off the vines with the gardening tool.

Briar bit her lip. Talking to her plants had worked before, but the roses had always been… difficult. They didn’t like being told what to do, and they certainly didn’t respond well to requests. But she didn’t have many other options.

Taking a deep breath, Briar knelt down next to the rose vines, reaching out with her magic. She could feel the thorny energy pulsing through them—strong, stubborn, and sharp. It was different from the other plants in her garden. The roses were proud, fierce, and they didn’t like being challenged.

"Alright, roses," Briar muttered, her voice firm but gentle. "I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you need to back off."

The vines twitched in response, but they didn’t release their grip on the zucchinis. Briar could feel their resistance, their unwillingness to listen. But she couldn’t give up—not now. She reached deeper with her magic, pushing gently against the vines, willing them to loosen their hold.

"I’m serious," Briar said, her voice steady. "I know you’re strong. I know you’re fierce. But this isn’t how we work together. You’re part of this garden, just like the zucchinis. We work together. We grow together."

The roses seemed to hesitate, their vines pausing mid-coil. Briar could feel their energy shifting—softening, just a little.

"That’s it," Briar whispered, her magic flowing through the vines like a gentle breeze. "You’re beautiful, powerful. But you don’t have to crush everything in your path to prove it. Let go."

For a moment, the garden was still. Briar held her breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for the roses to respond.

And then, slowly, the vines began to loosen. The thorns retracted, and the roses gently unwound themselves from the zucchinis, retreating back toward their designated patch.

Briar let out a long breath of relief, sinking back onto her heels. "Thank the stars."

Myrtle, who had been standing by with wide eyes, dropped the gardening tool and burst into laughter. "Briar, that was incredible! You just talked down a bunch of homicidal roses!"

Briar chuckled, though her heart was still racing. "I wasn’t sure it would work."

"But it did!" Myrtle said, grinning from ear to ear. "You’ve really got the hang of this garden magic now."

Briar glanced back at the roses, which were now swaying peacefully in the breeze, as if nothing had happened. She couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride. The roses had always been the most stubborn plants in her garden, and the fact that she had managed to communicate with them—without causing another revolt—felt like a major victory.

"Maybe I’m getting better at this," Briar admitted, smiling.

"Better?" Myrtle said with a laugh. "You’re amazing! You’re basically the plant whisperer now."

Briar blushed, but she couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread through her chest. It wasn’t perfect, and she still had a lot to learn, but for the first time, she truly felt like she was in sync with her magic—and her garden.

"Thanks, Myrtle," Briar said softly, her smile widening. "I couldn’t have done it without your help."

Myrtle waved a hand, brushing off the compliment. "Oh, please. You did all the work. I just stood here and yelled at the plants."

"That’s your specialty," Briar teased, standing up and dusting off her hands.

Myrtle grinned. "Exactly."

As they stood there, watching the garden sway in the gentle breeze, Briar felt a sense of peace settle over her. She still had a long way to go, but for now, she was content. Her garden was calm, her magic was growing stronger, and with Myrtle by her side, she felt like she could handle whatever magical challenges came her way.

"Come on," Myrtle said, looping her arm through Briar’s. "Let’s go get some tea. You’ve earned a break after that rose situation."

Briar smiled, allowing Myrtle to lead her back toward the house. "Tea sounds perfect."

As they walked, Briar couldn’t help but glance back at her garden one last time. The roses were still swaying, their bright red blooms shining in the sunlight. They were fierce, stubborn, and proud—but they were hers.

And for the first time, Briar felt like she was truly part of her garden, not just its caretaker. She was connected to it in a way she hadn’t been before, and that connection—no matter how wild or unpredictable—was something she was finally starting to embrace.