Days passed gently in rhythm — morning classes at the Academy, evenings spent in the grove. Between lessons, Lira found peace among the whispering leaves and the scent of growing magic.
Her grove had changed. The new orchard, planted with the Apples of Grounding, stretched far behind the rows of herbs and potion flowers. The saplings shimmered faintly under sunlight, their trunks pale silver-green, their leaves edged with a soft golden hue that flickered when touched by wind.
Every tree pulsed faintly with life energy, a steady rhythm — ba-dum, ba-dum — like a quiet heartbeat that resonated with the land itself.
Lira moved barefoot through the rows, her robe brushing against the dew-laced grass.
Renkai and Thalanir worked nearby, tending the roots, using earth magic to strengthen soil. Fluffy darted between them, chasing luminous dragonflies that had begun nesting around the trees.
