The days that followed were filled with soft music — rustling leaves, bubbling streams, and the faint flutter of wings high above.
Lira's grove had begun to change.
The birds she brought from the distant cliffs were unlike any ordinary creatures. Their feathers shimmered in shades that shifted with the light — dawn pink, sky blue, and the silver of moonlit frost. Each species had a bond with a type of plant. Some nested among the healing herbs, feeding gently on small insects that once threatened the delicate leaves. Others carried seeds in their beaks, scattering them across the grove with each graceful flight.
Lira watched as balance returned.
Vines grew in perfect rhythm, never choking the trees. Flowers bloomed longer and brighter, as if singing back to their winged companions.
The gnomes who had followed her worked tirelessly, guiding roots, shaping paths, and studying the interaction between plant and bird.
Serelyth noted, "It's as if the grove itself is learning."
