Evelyn remembered the first time she had ever "fixed" something alive.
It was a cat. A scrawny, half-dead thing she had found behind her apartment.
At the time, she was… confused.
She had always believed that the fundamental building block of everything — existence, society, even the universe — was trade. Transactions.
Nothing worked without an exchange. Energy for energy. Life for life. Value for value.
But as she stared at that haggardly breathing cat, she wondered what the trade was this time.
There had been no creature. Then there was.
That was… philosophically out of order.
No gain. No measurable return. Just loss of time and effort.
She almost dismissed it as an inefficient deal — an unfair transaction for her — when the cat, trembling and weak, walked up to her and brushed its fur against her skin.
Evelyn froze.
The sensation was… foreign.
Soft. Strange.
Warm.
Her eyes widened slightly as she felt something unfamiliar bloom inside her.
It wasn't fear. It wasn't joy. It wasn't anything she could categorize.
She didn't understand it.
She couldn't value it.
But somehow… it wasn't an unfair trade anymore.
She had given life to something — and in return, she got something she couldn't quantify.
Something… priceless.
That day, curiosity took root.
She began studying biology. Neurology. All forms of life.
And she kept "fixing" things — small creatures at first, then larger ones.
Her apartment had eventually turned into something like a miniature ecosystem. A pet house filled with things that had once been dead.
Evelyn blinked back to the present.
The woman was still weeping, holding her now-sleeping child close. The baby's breathing was steady, calm — warm against her mother's chest.
Evelyn watched in silence.
She had never revived a human before. She thought maybe this time, she would finally understand what that strange warmth was.
But… nothing came.
The crying. The emotions. The overflowing gratitude — none of it reached her.
Inefficient. Again.
She sighed quietly inside her mind and looked down at her hands. She could still feel traces of the magic the woman had given her earlier.
Curious, she began to analyze it — integrating it into her senses, trying to understand what it was.
And what she sensed next made her pause.
Magic.
It was everywhere.
The air shimmered with it — invisible, but present. Like a constant hum she'd never noticed before.
The animals around her radiated faint traces of it too, dense and warm, far stronger than the ambient field.
Then she looked at the woman.
The magic around her was chaotic — vast, tangled, pulsing like a living organism. Easily dozens of times stronger than the others.
One thin strand of that energy was linked to Evelyn, faintly glowing, before it finally faded away. And with it — the sensation of magic vanished.
She clenched her tiny fists, trying again to summon the energy, to will it back.
Nothing.
The connection was gone.
Well, that was… inconvenient.
She still had the tools she'd conjured earlier, but without magic — or a grown body — they were practically useless.
As she turned her focus back, she noticed the woman's tear-stained face soften. Her child had fallen into peaceful sleep. Slowly, the woman looked toward Evelyn with something between awe and reverence.
Evelyn tilted her head, expression blank.
The woman hesitated for a moment, then gently set her child down, and fell to her knees.
"Gifted child," she said softly, voice trembling. "Thank you… truly, thank you for helping me."
Evelyn ignored her completely.
"Thanks" were worthless. There was no gain in them. She'd already received what she wanted — tools, magic, information. That was enough.
Her attention had already drifted to the strange animals and plants surrounding her — their shapes, their movements, their patterns. Nothing like Earth's biosphere. All fascinating.
The woman noticed she was being ignored, but rather than anger, she only grew more earnest.
"Gifted child," she said again, her tone more formal now. "I am Dryad Attria — one of the spirits of this land. Please, may I know your name, so that I may give thanks properly?"
Evelyn didn't even look at her. Her gaze was still fixed on a bird with translucent wings.
But her voice, calm and even, brushed through Attria's mind.
Evelyn.
Attria repeated the name softly, as though it carried warmth just to say it.
"Evelyn… I truly thank you, Lady Evelyn. In return for your kindness, please allow me to offer you the hospitality of this forest."
Evelyn thought for a moment. A brief pause, a split-second calculation.
Yes, she answered finally, but I want the animals to be there too. Wherever you will be taking me.
Attria's face brightened, relief and joy flooding her tone.
"As you say, Lady Evelyn!"