The morning light stretched across the Grove, casting golden rays over the lush berry bushes. Lira knelt beside a low-hanging branch, carefully guiding a Prism Crest bird as it delicately placed a plump, glowing berry into a small glass vial.
The birds had grown confident since the initial training. Their tiny, iridescent wings fluttered with precision, each movement almost choreographed. Some hovered in place, chirping soft notes as they assessed which berries were ripe, while others carefully flew from branch to branch, dropping the chosen fruit into waiting vials.
Lira observed with satisfaction. The growth potion she had applied weeks before had done more than make the bushes larger—it had infused them with a subtle vitality that seemed to resonate with the birds. The berries shimmered faintly, vibrant and alive, and the Prism Crest birds instinctively reacted to this energy, plucking the ripest fruits without damaging branches or leaves.
