By the time Briar and Myrtle made it back to Briar’s house, the sun was sinking low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the village. Briar stood at the edge of her garden and stared at the scene before her. It was… worse than expected.

While she was gone, her plants had apparently decided to throw a party—and not the civilized, tea-sipping kind. Vines sprawled across the yard like they were in some sort of vine Olympics, roses had burst into bloom in a riot of colors that didn’t exist in nature, and a nearby pumpkin had quadrupled in size and was now hovering gently a few feet off the ground.

"Okay," Myrtle said, eyes wide. "This is a new one."

"You think?" Briar sighed, clutching the bag of enchanted soil to her chest. "It’s like they’ve gotten even wilder since we left. Look at the pumpkin! I didn’t even plant pumpkins!"

"Maybe it’s an overachiever," Myrtle suggested with a grin, nudging the floating pumpkin with her elbow. It bobbed gently in the air, as if perfectly content with its new life as a balloon.

Briar wasn’t amused. She dropped the enchanted soil onto a nearby bench and stared at the mess that used to be her garden. She could feel the plants' energy pulsing around her like a living thing, and while part of her loved the vibrancy of it, the other part was horrified by how utterly out of control it had all become.

"Right," Briar muttered, rolling up her sleeves. "Time to take charge."

Myrtle raised an eyebrow. "You’re going to tame this? I hope you’ve got an army of garden gnomes hidden somewhere because this looks like a three-day job at minimum."

Briar ignored her, crouching down next to the most unruly section of vines. The tendrils wriggled toward her like eager pets, and for a moment, she almost laughed. Almost. But she had to stay focused. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small bottle of potion—a mixture she had brewed earlier in the week to calm overactive plants. She hadn’t expected to need it on this scale, but desperate times and all that.

With a muttered incantation, Briar poured a few drops of the potion onto the roots of the vines. Instantly, the tendrils retracted, curling back toward the earth as though they’d suddenly remembered they were supposed to be stationary plants, not hyperactive garden serpents.

"Ha!" Briar said triumphantly, standing up. "See? I’ve got this."

As if in response to her confidence, a nearby rosebush exploded in a cloud of petals, sending a cascade of bright pink blooms swirling through the air. Briar blinked, her victory deflating like a popped balloon.

"Yeah," Myrtle said, trying and failing to hide her laughter. "You definitely got this."

Briar glared at the rosebush, which looked entirely too pleased with itself. "I swear these plants are mocking me."

"They probably are." Myrtle kicked at the ground, where a cluster of mushrooms had formed an oddly perfect circle. "But hey, maybe they’re just bored. I mean, would you want to stay rooted in one spot all day? Maybe your garden just needs some excitement."

Briar gave her a look. "You’re suggesting my garden’s acting out because it’s… bored?"

Myrtle shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."

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Briar wasn’t convinced. The last thing she needed was for her plants to develop complex emotions. But there was no denying that something was going on with her magic. Her plants had always been energetic, but lately, they seemed to be on the verge of rebellion. And now, with this enchanted soil Myrtle had insisted on buying, who knew what was going to happen?

With a resigned sigh, Briar walked back to the bench and picked up the bag of soil, giving it a suspicious look. "You really think this is going to help?"

Myrtle grinned. "It’ll either help or make things way more interesting. Either way, we win."

Briar groaned. "That’s not how gardening is supposed to work."

Ignoring Myrtle’s snickering, Briar took a handful of the enchanted soil and sprinkled it over a patch of flowers that were currently tangled in a bizarre formation that resembled a knot. As soon as the soil hit the ground, the plants twitched, their leaves rustling like they were waking from a long nap. Briar took a step back, watching with wary curiosity.

At first, nothing happened. The flowers simply stood there, as flowers do, looking pretty and innocent. Then, slowly, the petals began to glow, a soft, golden light radiating from the center of each bloom. Briar watched in awe as the tangled mess of plants began to untwine, each vine and leaf returning to its natural position as if they were stretching after a long day.

"Okay," Briar whispered. "Maybe this soil isn’t so bad after all."

Myrtle clapped her hands together. "See? I told you! Enchanted soil to the rescue!"

But Briar wasn’t so sure. The glow from the flowers was intensifying, spreading to the rest of the garden. The vines, which had calmed down moments earlier, were now wriggling excitedly again, their tendrils glowing with the same golden light. The floating pumpkin started bobbing up and down, and the mushrooms at Myrtle’s feet began to sprout at an alarming rate.

"Myrtle," Briar said, her voice tightening with concern, "I think we should—"

Before she could finish, the ground beneath them rumbled. Briar barely had time to react before the entire garden sprang to life with a burst of energy. Vines shot up from the earth like geysers, twirling through the air in chaotic spirals. The pumpkin shot up even higher, wobbling precariously before settling at least ten feet in the air.

And the flowers? Well, they started singing.

"That’s new," Myrtle said, her eyes wide as she watched the chorus of blooms harmonize in a strangely beautiful melody.

Briar, on the other hand, was not impressed. "New? New?! Myrtle, my garden is having a magical meltdown!"

Myrtle scratched her head thoughtfully. "Okay, so maybe the soil was a little too enchanted."

"You think?"

The vines were now twisting around the fence, and Briar could hear the unmistakable sound of laughter coming from the vegetable patch. She didn’t want to know what her carrots were doing.

"Alright, enough is enough," Briar muttered, taking a deep breath. She could feel the magic swirling around her, wild and untamed, but there was no way she was going to let her garden turn into a magical amusement park. Not today.

With a determined look, Briar raised her hands and closed her eyes, reaching deep into the well of magic inside her. She imagined the plants calming down, their energy settling back into the earth. The vines obeying her, the flowers stopping their impromptu musical number, and the pumpkin—well, the pumpkin could stay in the air for now. One thing at a time.

Slowly, she felt the magic respond. The vines began to retract, the flowers quieted, and the pumpkin… well, it stopped wobbling, which was a start.

When she opened her eyes, the garden was still and peaceful once more, though the plants still glowed faintly with a soft, golden hue. Briar let out a long breath, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Well," Myrtle said after a long pause, "that was exciting."

Briar shot her a look. "If by ‘exciting,’ you mean ‘terrifying,’ then yes."

"Hey, at least your plants are in tune. Literally."

Briar groaned and dropped down onto a nearby bench, her legs suddenly feeling like jelly. "I don’t know what’s going on with my magic, but if it keeps up like this, I’m going to need more than enchanted soil. I’ll need a miracle."

Myrtle plopped down next to her, patting her on the shoulder. "Don’t worry, Briar. We’ll figure it out. Worst case, you become the first witch to open a magical garden theme park."

"Great," Briar muttered. "That’s exactly what I was going for."

Despite the chaos, Briar couldn’t help but smile a little. Sure, her garden was a disaster, and her magic seemed to be spinning out of control, but at least she wasn’t dealing with it alone. And who knows? Maybe somewhere in all this madness, she’d figure out what was really going on with her magic.

Hopefully before the plants decided to stage a coup.