Lira glanced toward the middle of the group and spotted Maelin standing confidently among the classmates. The teacher's voice rang out, "Maelin, step forward."
With steady steps, Maelin moved ahead. The teacher's eyes brightened as she observed Maelin's focused flame. "Impressive control of your fire element. You've come far."
Maelin and Lira exchanged a quick, warm greeting before following the teacher to another training area.
"This section is where we practice elemental precision," the teacher explained. "Fire elements will cast controlled flames at targets. Water elements will form watery duplicates of themselves and maintain focus to hold them steady. Air elements train balance by standing on bamboo poles, using their air power to keep themselves aloft."
Lira, the only earth element in the class, listened as the teacher turned to her. "Your task is to shape your vines further—more intricate forms, more control."
Lira concentrated deeply, coaxing her vines to grow and twist. But despite her effort, the vines only shifted slightly, barely showing new progress. Fatigue crept in quickly, her strength waning with each attempt.
Frustration mixed with determination as she pushed forward, knowing growth wouldn't come without challenge.
Lira followed the teacher's instructions carefully, pushing herself through the tiring vine shaping until the lesson finally came to an end. The group then moved forward, heading toward a steep hill surrounded by sheer rock walls. The path narrowed as they climbed, the air growing cooler and the forest quieter.
Suddenly, a sharp cry echoed through the ravine—one of the classmates had slipped and tumbled into a narrow crevice. Without hesitation, the teacher stepped forward, extending her hands as glowing energy flowed from her palms. With a swift, controlled motion, she pulled the injured student back up onto the path.
As they set him down, it was clear his leg was hurt—blood stained his pants, and he winced in pain. The group fell silent, eyes wide with concern.
Lira took a cautious step closer. "Teacher… may I use my potion on his leg?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling just slightly.
The teacher glanced at the small vial in Lira's hand and nodded. "Go ahead, Lira."
With steady hands, Lira applied a single drop of the strong healing potion to the wound. The classmates watched in stunned silence as the potion worked its magic—slowly, the blood ceased to flow, the swelling eased, and color returned to the injured leg.
When the transformation was complete, amazed whispers rippled through the group. For the first time, Lira saw her classmates truly recognize her strength and skill.
As they continued their journey after the incident, the mood among the students had shifted. Where before Lira had walked mostly unnoticed, now a few glanced her way with nods of acknowledgment, some even murmuring quiet thanks. The healing potion had not only mended a wound—it had stitched a new layer of respect between her and the others.
Maelin caught up to her with a smile. "That was impressive," she said softly. "You really made that potion yourself?"
Lira nodded, still a bit shy. "With guidance. But yes. It worked better than I hoped."
"I guess we all have something different to offer," Maelin replied, glancing ahead toward the path.
Soon, they reached a clearing nestled between the hills. The training teacher turned to address them, "We'll rest here before returning. You've all done well today."
Lira sat under a tree, her fingers brushing over her small pouch of herbs, feeling their quiet presence. Despite her fatigue, she smiled. Today wasn't just about training—it had become a turning point. For the first time, she felt not just like a quiet student in the back of the class, but like someone who truly belonged.
As the sun dipped lower, casting golden hues over the forest trail, the class made their way back to the school grounds. Lira walked quietly, her pouch of herbs clutched close, heart still fluttering from the moment earlier. Her legs were tired, but her mind buzzed with ideas.
Once inside the gates, the students dispersed to their dorms, chatter soft and warm after the day's long training. Lira slipped into her room, the quiet a welcome comfort. She placed the pouch gently on her desk and untied the string, revealing the small collection of plants she had gathered. Some were familiar—tiny moon-leaf, soft-touch vine—but others pulsed faintly with an energy she hadn't felt before.
She took out her green book and placed her fingers on one of the leaves. As her thoughts formed questions, the pages stirred slightly, then turned on their own. New lines etched into the parchment, identifying the plants and offering gentle notes: used in clarity brews, soothes fevers, enhances focus when brewed with mint.
Lira smiled, the glow from her small lantern catching the spark in her eyes. She felt something she hadn't in a long time—pride, and maybe a little anticipation for tomorrow.
After returning to her room, Lira carefully laid out the plants she had gathered on the walk, sorting them by color, scent, and how they felt in her hand. With her green book open beside her, she noted each one, letting the pages absorb her thoughts—names, textures, where she found them, and what she sensed. As she gently placed the dried and fresh herbs into their jars and cloth pouches, a soft sense of purpose settled over her. Her eyes grew heavy while imagining the next day, showing everything to her potion teacher and testing new mixtures together. With those hopeful thoughts, she curled up on her bed and drifted into sleep, the scent of herbs still lingering in the air.
In her sleep, the soft rustle of leaves and bubbling of distant springs filled her senses. Lira found herself in a vast garden under a silver sky, where the plants she had gathered earlier now grew as tall as trees, glowing gently with inner light. She walked barefoot on moss, and as she passed, the plants bent slightly, brushing her hands in greeting. In the center of the garden stood a stone table with her green book open upon it, pages fluttering as if caught in a breeze only it could feel. A voice whispered around her, gentle and old: "Every herb holds more than what you see—listen, and they'll teach you."
She reached toward the book, and glowing symbols appeared above the pages—strange, fluid shapes she hadn't learned yet, but somehow understood. They shimmered like stars as if waiting to be decoded. Just as her fingers brushed them, the dream began to dissolve like morning mist, leaving only the echo of the voice and the cool touch of moss beneath her feet.
Lira woke with a soft gasp, the memory of the glowing garden still fresh in her mind. Early morning light filtered through the window, casting golden lines across her green book, which lay open beside her. She sat up slowly, brushing her fingers over the dried herbs she had pressed into a cloth pouch before sleep. Carefully, she opened it and checked each one. They were still vibrant, their textures and scents unmistakable—alive in their own quiet way.
She smiled to herself and whispered, "You'll be part of something now."
After dressing and tucking the pouch safely into her satchel, she made her way toward the potion classroom. The halls were quiet this early, but the moment she stepped inside, the familiar scent of herbs and warm glass greeted her like home. Her teacher was already there, sorting vials.
"I brought some herbs from yesterday's walk," she said, holding them out.
He looked up with interest, then took the pouch with a careful hand. "Let's see what you've found. Maybe today we'll begin mixing a formula of your own."
Lira's heart beat faster. This was the start of something new.
The teacher laid the herbs gently on a wide wooden table, his fingers moving with practiced precision. He studied them with quiet focus, nodding slowly.
"This one," he said, pointing to a pale green stem with curling tips, "is called Windlace. Not common. Good for calming effects when paired with the right root." He picked up another. "And this… flamebark leaf. Strong energy booster, but unstable on its own."
Lira leaned in, listening carefully. "Could we combine one for focus and one for steadying energy?"
The teacher looked at her, surprised by the question, then smiled. "That's a good instinct. Let's try it."
They began grinding the herbs in separate bowls—Lira working the Windlace, while he handled the flamebark. She added a drop of water infused with vine essence, her own earth magic softly flowing through her fingertips. It made the mix shimmer faintly, like dew on grass.
"Pour them together slowly," the teacher instructed, handing her a curved glass vial. "Steady… steady…"
The two mixtures merged, a faint swirl of green and copper light forming inside the glass. The liquid gave off a scent of moss and smoke. Lira stared, amazed.
"You just crafted your first stabilizing potion," the teacher said, corking it. "It's not powerful, but it's balanced—and that's the key."
Lira held the bottle carefully in her hands. It was small, unassuming—but it felt like a seed of something bigger.