It had been midday when the yolk-like sun spilled onto a sky barren of clouds that Fearne had been summoned. Those hallways, cramped, empty, yet painfully familiar to her, led across a voiceless building, her only company coming in the form of the countless portraits—they were meant to service regal decor, but she always found them ominous—staring at her on either side of the hallway, plastered on green-colored walls that reminded Fearne less of freshly-cut grass and more of the sickly moss you'd find proliferating on fallen, forgotten logs.

Like all the other girls, she was prohibited from entering these halls unless they were escorted by one of the caretakers or—much like in this instance—the Headmistress beckoned for them. Fearne could count on one hand the reasons why the Headmistress herself might find the need to house an audience. More commonly than not, it was to address a complaint or a mistake, the kind that you'd call a girl aside and address privately, secluded from prying eyes.

Now, on those rare occasions when one of her fellow sisters hadn't misbehaved or skipped on their lessons or was caught sneaking out past curfew, well, then, the only possible reason Fearne could think of was that they would have been chosen. Then, could that have meant that she-

No! No, that was ridiculous. Utter nonsense not even worth pondering over. Out of all the sisters St. Miriam had to offer the kind folks of Incante, what in their right mind would convince them to choose her of all people?

There was Peighton in the room across from hers, who had a fantastic memory. You could mention something to the long-nosed girl in passing three weeks prior just for her to recite it back to you word for word months later. Many often joked that they could see her as a prominent defender of justice or, if nothing else, she'd make for a good teacher.

The only problem was that despite her kind nature, she had a short temper, a quality that wasn't best suited for someone tasked with monitoring over twenty children for eight hours a day. Fearne laughed at the thought of Peighton blowing up right in front of her students; what a sight that would be.

Then, there was Maddison—the girl sharing the bunk bed with Ria adjacent to her own—who had a natural gift for building and putting things back together. Fearne had once observed the girl with cherry-colored hair as she expertly reattached the shingles of the bathroom door in a little under an hour. Saved them the trouble of having to call and pay for a handyman, that did.

She was also responsible for crafting a functional rocking chair from the leftover wood they had stacked up in the front yard. With enough training, Fearne could envision her sister as an efficient mechanic in fifteen, maybe twenty years. A jack-of-all-trades.

Honestly, St. Miriam had no shortage of exceptional girls. Indeed, it was a refuge for the gifted, and as Fearne continued down the hall, she noticed that each step forward came slower than the last until she arrived at a complete stop, her arms drooping to her sides just as her braided ponytail noodled over her shoulder and a good ways past her breast.

Once again, that infernal yet ever-present question consumed her: Why would someone want to choose her? What had she to offer anyone? Her sisters? Now, they had gifts. All kinds of odd but valuable quirks and habits that, should they fail to support their new families, would, at the very least, brighten up the atmosphere with their unique auras.

But Fearne's was an Essence that blended in with the colorless smog of mediocrity. She hadn't a perfect memory like Peighton. She couldn't hastily fix things as Maddison could. No, all she was really good for was fetching a broom and making up the beds and cleaning the storage rooms and watering the plants. She didn't think she'd wind up as one of the chosen like many of her other sisters, and if she couldn't land a job as a maid by the time St. Miriam would release her when she turned eighteen, then really, what would become of her?

That unnerving reality caused Fearne's insides to shutter, and without realizing it, she'd begun to tug on her ponytail, long, steady strokes from the bottom of her chin to the tuff at its end. Beams of golden sunlight shot out the window on the wall to her left, causing Fearne to squint. Lifting her half-open gaze off the floor, she took a peek outside, where the cloudless sky harbored a sun that shone brighter than any flower.

She longed to be free in that world, where she had a chance of molding fate to her whim, but it was that very same unknown realm that landed her where she is today. It rejected her, and here she was, hoping to return to that tortured freedom.

Shaking her head from side to side, Fearne recollected her priorities with a pout. Bawling hands to fists, Fearne bolted down the darkened halls, leaving that one sliver where a scarce portal to the outside bled its light onto the sickly green.

Five minutes passed, and Fearne saw the crimson-colored door at the end of the hallways. The door to Headmistress Miriam's office. What immediately struck her as strange was that, well, the door was creaked open, and it was rarely ever open. Orangish light permeated through the slit where the door should have met the wall, and with it, Fearne's ears detected the sound of laughter.

Fearne stuttered a step as she drew nearer to it. Those laughs and sly remarks, they hadn't been slung out the mouths of a sister like her—a child—but instead, it was the jovial banter of an adult. There were three distinct voices in that room: One of them belonged to Headmistress Miriam; the other two, Fearne couldn't make out.

Clearing her throat with a slight cough into a fist, straightening to her full height with an arm bent behind her, Fearne tapped her knuckle on the door three times, awaiting permission for entry even though it was already partially open.

The laughter ceased upon Fearne's second knock. "Yes, yes, come in, please." That was Headmistress Miriam's voice, and only a sulmo would keep that woman waiting. Heart thumping in her chest, a tongue turning dry inside her head, Fearne inhaled deeply through her nostrils before pushing the door open and proceeding in.

The office room was of the smaller variety. It was a compact little space with a large bookshelf crowded with texts and scrolls that stretched from one side of the room to the other. The bookshelf was situated right behind the desk—carved from wood as pitch black as rotted roots—that stood at the center of the room right atop a square-shaped carpet embellished with intricate designs. There was also a ficus plant shooting out of the pot on the left side of the desk; it gave off a dejected song.

Per usual, Headmistress Miriam sat with her hands clasped behind the desk, numerous documents organized before her in stacks and rows. The two ladies sitting at the chairs in front of her, why, Fearne had never seen either of them before. Theirs was a presence—and Essence—that was to her completely alien.

Headmistress Miriam was a tall woman, or perhaps she stood to an average height, and she only appeared tall relative to the frail girl that Fearne was. Fearne had to look up to her figuratively and literally, and that was what really counted. The Headmistress was a weathered flower whose aged were like ivory roots left to dry uprooted in the soil, and her eyes were as dark as the seeds Fearne would plant during the spring. She had a long, if not narrow, face with hollow cheeks and gray-colored hair fixed into a bun atop her head.

Instinctively, Fearne felt a wave of trepidation flare on her as she fell under the tall woman's narrowed gaze. She meant to give a respectable nod back, but instead, that nod transformed into Fearne gluing her bottom jaw to her chest, shaking eyes lowered back onto the floor.

"Ah, yes, this is who I had mentioned to you both earlier," Headmistress Miriam said in her gravelly yet elegant voice. "She's a shy one. That is, she won't speak to you unless you say something to her first, and even then, you'll be hard-pressed to receive a response longer than three words. But she's pretty good with her hands and a lot brighter than most of my other girls."

Fearne's eyes widened from the comments, though she had yet to lift her head. "Headmistress...thinks that I'm smart?" Such high praise should have sparked a feeling of elation or, at the very least, happiness, but it made her more bemused than anything.

"It would appear that Aeris has smiled her good graces on you this day, Fearne," Headmistress Miriam went on. "These nice young Maidens mean to make you theirs."

The lump in Fearne's throat made it difficult for her to speak. "They're...they're going to...choose...me?"

"Yes, that is what I said," the Headmistress confirmed with dull irritation. "Come now, shouldn't you be thanking them? I taught you better than this, Fearne."

On any other occasion, Fearne would have obeyed Headmistress Miriam without question, but she couldn't bring herself to move. It was happening—actually—finally—happening. Somebody wanted her.

The motion of the two women rising out of their well-furnished seats caused Fearne to flinch instinctively, a habit she noticed she tended to do around people she'd never met before. "Fearne was your name, wasn't it? I've heard a lot about you, young lady," the first woman smiled as she stepped to her.

Unsure of what to do or how to respond, Fearne settled for an uneasy, if not forced, courtesy, lifting the ends of her checkered blue and gray skirt with pinched fingers as she bent a knee in front of her. Her educators had taught her it was a common form of greeting, especially towards someone of noble stature, as she was confident these two ladies were. "It's...it's a pleasure to meet you...miss," Fearne said awkwardly, hoping the red stains on her cheeks weren't too noticeable.

The woman raised a hand to her lips as she laughed. "Well, you're a well-mannered one. Of course, Headmistress Miriam told us as much. And, yes, it is also an absolute delight to make your acquaintance."

Fluent articulation and a poised demeanor, standing tall and proud where others might be intimidated; yes, she was a noble if Fearne had ever seen one, and outside of Headmistress Miriam and a few other of their guests, she had not seen many.

Looking up at her through uneasy lenses, Fearne realized that the woman was perhaps the tallest of everyone present. She was a fair-skinned noble with natural chestnut hair that flowed past her chin and framed her squarish face, possessing eyes that shone with the bluish tint of hyacinth petals. She came adorned in a long dress of a beige coloration that slowly turned green past its hemline.

"Hmm, you're a skinny little thing, aren't you?" commented the woman beside her. Her partner's shocked—partially appalled—look didn't stop her from continuing to say, "What first we gotta do is fatten you up some. We can't have me worrying that the winds might carry you off when I'm not looking, can we?"

"Shirley!" the chestnut-haired woman blurted embarrassingly, the sides of her face turning bright red.

"What?" the woman—apparently, her name was Shirley—asked with a shrug. "I was only jokin' around. Man, I swear you get flustered way too easily."

Fearne felt her face pinch from a confused expression. Was this woman really a noble? She certainly didn't act the part. She'd inherited dark hair with eyes just as black, and her face had a sleekness to it, which, combined with the short length she'd cut her hair to, might lead some into thinking she was a young male at first glance.

In place of the high-class dress the other had on, she came attired in a brownish cloak that veiled most of her slender yet well-defined frame and, underneath, a brown dress that bordered on yellow that had a strange symbol embroidered on its chest, reminding Fearne partially of a flower—or was it meant to be a sun? In Fearne's eyes, Shirley's whole ensemble looked more to service a uniform than your typical fine clothing.

But what most drew Fearne's speculative stare was the wand strapped to the woman's side. She couldn't identify what type it was as it was sheathed inside its holster, but it was abundantly clear to her now that this woman—perhaps even both of them—was a mage. A Professional Sorcerer. But why would Professional Sorcerers want...me?

"I guess it's a good thing we have your famous roasted duck waiting for us back home, aye, Thea?" Shirley snickered. "Once she's got a taste of your cooking, she'll put on weight in no time."

Thea—Fearne assumed that was her name, at least—slowly wiped a hand down her scowling face as she groaned. "You promised me you would be on your best behavior."

"I did, and I am," Shirley grunted, picking something out of her teeth with a finger. "Trust me, we both know I could be much worse if I really wanted to."

"That is true, I suppose," Thea said flatly. As she turned towards Fearne again, the look in her eyes became anxious or somewhat disappointed. "Oh, dear. I don't think we're making the best first impression, my love."

Shirley shrugged again. "This is who we are. If she can't handle us now, then there's no point in going forward with this whole adoption thing, is there?"

"So...so you really do mean to choose me, then?" Fearne found the courage to voice. "You're being serious?"

"Yes, my dear. We are." Fearne hesitated again, stepping back to the door as the taller Thea advanced for her, lowering into a one-knee crouch to meet her in the eyes better, though Fearne still had to tilt her chin up to do so partially. "I recognize that Shirley and I, well, we're a bit of an odd couple, aren't we? Especially in the eyes of a conventional noble society—"

"Screw 'em all, that's what I say!" Shirley growled loudly behind her. "If I wasn't a pacifist at heart, Aeris knows I would have—"

"In any case!" Thea cut her off, clearing her throat as she did. "It's always been a dream of mine to be a mother. You might not guess it, and she'd never admit to it herself, but Shirley also wants to. I'm sure it'll be a change, and we'll most undoubtedly encounter hiccups along the way. However, if you're willing to accept us for who we are, we promise to do the same to you as our daughter."

"But the choice is ultimately up to you, kid," Shirley added. "It's your life, too, you know. If you don't want this, just say the word, and you'll never see our mugs again for as long as you live."

Fearne swallowed. Just what kind of offer was this? One gift wrapped in the Eternal Gardens themselves. "I've always...wanted to have parents," Fearne admitted softly. "And I always wanted to learn how to...cast magic." Feeling warmth in her chest, she didn't look away from Thea's kind eyes. "Do you think you can teach me?"

Instead of answering immediately, Thea reached for Fearne's arm and tightened something around her wrist. It felt itchy, and Fearne was half-tempted to pull away, but she stood still and was firm. "If you come with us, we'll give you the life a girl like you is owed."

As Thea let go of her wrist, Fearne's eyes widened at seeing the bracelet the woman placed around it. It was unlike any ornament she'd ever seen: A simple band branded with various flowers that came in practically every color, though none were larger than one's fingernail. Under closer examination, Fearne discovered that they weren't artificial either, and if she listened carefully, she could faintly discern tiny voices singing happily in unison.

"Guess it's official then," Shirley smirked.

"Welcome to our family," Thea smiled, placing a hand over Fearne's shoulder. "From this day onward, you shall be known as Fearne Lavender."

A family. She would have a real family. A once impossible dream had sewed itself into her reality. As glorious and wonderfully astonishing as that moment had been, Fearne was more so fixated on the gift she'd been bestowed. The bracelet sang the Melodies of the world on its own accord, for it symbolized the bond that had then been tied between them.

She couldn't forget the way her face contorted into a smile, the tears welling up in her eyes, and the warmth that flooded her being, causing her Core to tremble. What had a young orphan like her, a child rejected even by her birth parents, done to deserve such a profound blessing? This question often occupied her thoughts, yet the answer always remained just out of reach. It was like trying to spot a brilliantly glowing patch of lime algae at the bottom of a dark, murky river. That answer, which to her, was—

"Hey, Fearne! Snap out of it!" Fearne flinched from the abrasiveness in Shirley's voice, and she pulled her transfixed glance off of the necklace several feet ahead, where her mother waited with a boot mounted on a tree stump, her unkempt black hair swaying in the breeze. "We're burning daylight the more we linger, girl."

"Oh! So...Sorry!" Fearne stammered, pocketing her thoughts away and scampering after her. "I got distracted. I apologize, I shouldn't have—"

The rest of what she had to say exploded into a scream as her boot caught something in the ground, and she stumbled forward. She very well might have received a faceful of grass and soil—she'd already braced for the impact of the fall—had Shirley not reacted in that split second to catch her with one arm. The woman might not have been the tallest, but her muscular physique could easily be compared to a man's. "Don't worry. I've got you."

"Th...Thanks," Fearne said wearily, a blush warming her face. She was careful to steady herself on her two feet as Shirley helped her stand again.

"Man, how did you get to be so clumsy?"

"Ah...it's something I must work on," Fearne admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah, but how many times must I tell you, Fearne? You must always remain vigilant. Especially in this realm," Shirley said, but the initial strictness in her tone had in seconds been replaced by tender concern. Thea hadn't been lying that day; Shirley really did long to be a mother. "If you lower your guard for too long, this forest might swallow you whole."

Fearne nodded fastly. "Understood!"

"Good," Shirley nodded back. "Then let's be off. Supper will be soon, and Thea will blow a fit if we're late."

Fearne tilted her head at the sky blazed over in an intense orange, clouds scarce within the heavens. She estimated they still had over an hour before the sunset, but even then, she couldn't afford to waste any time, as her mother had said. Flicking her braided ponytail over her shoulder, Fearne chased after Shirley, who had already put a sizeable distance between them.

Redstar Woods held a special place in Fearne's heart. She never imagined she would have the chance to explore it, but in the four years since leaving St. Miriam's Orphanage, Shirley had taken her on numerous adventures there. Fearne had become so familiar with the forest that she knew its layout as well as she knew the back of her hand.

The sight of Redstar always evoked a sense of mystery and wonder within her. It seemed to exude a powerful, almost palpable energy that sent shivers down her spine. As she walked along the path, the towering red-barked pine trees on either side of her, their branches and leaves forming a majestic canopy overhead. Each scarlet pine stood twice the height of a typical two-story building, and the sheer magnitude of their presence was such that if one were to fall, the reverberations could be felt over a hundred feet away.

As Shirley assisted her in clearing a fallen log blocking the path, pulling her by the arm and helping her climb over it, a thunderous drumming sound echoed in her ears. This was followed by a chorus of powerful and heavy voices that seemed to storm across the entire forest. The further they ventured into the woods, the more bombastic the cacophony became.

When she first began visiting the Redstar Woods, the triumphant hurricane of sounds was so overwhelming that she could only tolerate being near the forest for short periods of time. However, to her astonishment, she now found herself humming along to the wordless melody, swaying her head with closed eyes.

The soft, golden rays of the sun gently caressed her skin, creating a warm and comforting glow. A gentle breeze carried the unmistakable aroma of aged wood, mingled with the sweet fragrance of blossoming flowers emerging from the earth. It was a delicate harmony that defied replication. To her, the forest was like a fragment of the Eternal Gardens that had descended from the heavens and taken root in this world.

"So you can hear them, can you, girl?" Fearne shot open her eyes again, anticipating another scolding from Shirley for prolonging their trip, but to her shock, the woman was standing right beside her, arms crossed and equipped with a smirk. She was donning her brown and yellow attire—of which Fearne later discovered was the official uniform of the Medical Mages, a division of the much larger Incante Military—and Fearne rarely saw her wear anything else. "I had my doubts at first, but you can sense the Melodies of Nature, can't you?"

"The Melodies...of Nature?"

Thea had previously mentioned it during one of her day lessons, but Fearne had interpreted her mother's words as figurative. She had been taught that every living being had an Essence and a voice. According to her teachings, nature was filled with songs, and certain mages could hear them, sometimes without even intending to.

As a child, she used to believe that the Melodies she heard were just a product of her imagination. They seemed like random tunes she had made up in her head to escape from disappointment, sadness, or boredom. Now, Shirley and Thea would have her believe they were real.

Shirley playfully flicked the girl on the center of her forehead and moved on, hands behind her head. "Like I told you, it's easy for any forest to swallow you up, especially when you've gotten addicted to the Melodies. A part of your training will be learning how to neuter them so that their hollering won't lead to an early demise, but we'll discuss that later when I'm feeling in the mood to do a whole 'lotta explaining. Now, let's be off. We're almost there."

As Fearne and Shirley walked through the grassy path, a sudden snapping sound made Fearne's ear twitch with unease. She turned around swiftly to look back, but there was no one in sight. Shaking herself off, Fearne caught up with Shirley, and just as the woman had promised, they reached an open grassy clearing after only five minutes. In the center of the clearing, a solitary pine tree stood apart from its siblings that surrounded him in a ring.

Fearne strained to catch the faint whispers of his Melody, but the sound seemed to dissipate among the haunting shadows cast by the tree's flaking branches. Was it truly singing, or was its voice simply too feeble to reach her ears? The tree's trunk, once a sturdy pillar, now bore the marks of decay, resembling a dark, corrupted sunflower. The rot had insidiously consumed the bark, branches, and even the lifeblood of the tree.

Sinister tendrils snaked out from the amorphous mass, creeping up the tree's gnarled surface. If left unchecked, the decay would penetrate deep into the core of the tree, reaching all the way to its crown. Once that happened, there would be no hope of saving the majestic pine.

Breathing in, Shirley took off one of her gloves and crouched to one knee, resting a hand directly over the rot. Fearne winced at the sight; that couldn't have been sanitary, but it wasn't as if her mother cared for such things. "You're in so much pain, aren't you, friend?" Shirley said softly. "Don't worry, I'll make the hurting stop."

"Once the rot takes over this pine," Fearne said, "it'll spread to the other trees, won't it?"

"Yes, the whole forest will be next. If we hadn't been alerted, in a month's time, Redstar Woods would be nothing but a memory."

"Can you save it?" Fearne asked worriedly, hands clutched to her chest.

Shirley stood up with her back facing Fearne, not bothering to meet her eyes as she muttered, "I can." In a blink, she had her wand raised overhead. It was fourteen inches long and composed from the dark-colored wood of a tree Fearne didn't recognize. Known as a Storm Wand, it was the kind that the Incante Military issued to all of its State Sorcerers, but it wouldn't be as effective for healing as the wand that Thea owned or even the Thistle Wand Fearne herself had been gifted with.

Nevertheless, flicking her arm forward, a greenish light burst off its tip, absorbing the natural coloration of the tree and rot before her. "Plant Magic: Lumeno Natura!"

As Fearne shielded her eyes with a hand, Shirley's green-tinted light became overwhelming. After a short while, the intense light faded, and Fearne blinked rapidly to clear her blurry vision. To her amazement, she saw that every trace of the rot that had previously blighted the pine had vanished as if it had never existed at all.

The power of magic is...otherworldly. If I want to be as good as Shirley and Thea, I must train harder! Fearne thought, balling her fists. "You were incredible! At this rate, the forest will be—"

Fearne clamped her mouth shut as, suddenly, Shirely spun around, pointing her wand at where she was standing, and shouted out, "Viri Flagel!" as a vine as thick as a horse's leg broke out of the ground. Stunned, Fearne couldn't bring herself to move, not even as the vine lashed forward like a greenish whip, shooting straight past her in a burst of speed that caused her ponytail to flurry.

Fearne heard a sudden, pained yelp from behind her, causing her to gasp in surprise. She turned around just in time to see a four-legged animal being flung away by a vine that had struck its chest. The poor creature hurtled into the trunk of a nearby tree and then vanished beneath a waist-high hedge. "Hmm, looks like the tabloids weren't talkin' rubbish," Shirley said with an annoyed grin. "Edelgard has got herself an invasive species."

As Fearne looked around, she quickly took in the countless pairs of crimson-colored eyes peering at them from the darkness of the pine trees. The eerie, low growls of the creatures were not as audible as the rustling of the pine branches, but they echoed loudly in Fearne's ears, causing her heart to race even faster. Slowly and steadily, the creatures emerged from the foliage, moving with a deliberate and unsettling gait, one after another.

They resembled coyotes but were smaller than wolves. Known as knifebacks, they were easily recognizable by the crescent-shaped, razor-sharp silver blades protruding from their jet-black fur, running from the back of their necks to the tips of their tails. Their clawed paws scraped the ground as they moved forward, drool dripping from mouths filled with razor-edged teeth. Fearne counted a total of fifteen of these formidable predators. "Fearne," Shirley said quietly. "I'll divert their attention."

"Wh...What?"

"Yeah, my magic must have attracted 'em. Sunder me for being too strong, am I right?" Shirley joked. "Anyhow, I'll keep 'em busy while you escape. I doubt they'd be interested in a skinny twig like you."

"Yo...You're going to fight them?! But...but you—"

"I know, I know!" Shirley grunted. "I swore not to raise a wand for combat. Why do you think I'm a Medical Mage now? Even so, there are certain situations where the only thing you can do is retaliate, this being a prime example." Her lips quirked into a sneer, and Shirley thrust a thumbs up at Fearne. "I'll be fine, trust me. Pacifists know how to fight better than anyone."

Fearne was filled with an overwhelming desire to express more, but time had slipped away. Shirley directed her wand towards the ground, conjuring additional vines that enveloped her in a defensive ring, swaying like enormous green serpents. In response, the knifebacks' growls escalated into ravenous barks as they lunged forward, resembling four-legged demons on a mission to ruthlessly rend their prey apart.

As Shirley had observed, none of the creatures seemed to pay any attention to her, but that didn't make it any less daunting for Ferane to leave her there to fend for herself. I have to find my way back! I must! Fearne thought as she sprinted forward with her head lowered. I'll tell Thea, and then she can summon the military officers! They'll know what to do! Don't worry, Shirley! Help is on the way!

Peering over her shoulder, Fearne caught a glimpse of the intense battle unfolding behind her. To her surprise, Thea was holding her own, skillfully defending herself. Brandishing a gleaming weapon, Shirley called out the name of her spell as thorned vines sprang into action, fiercely lashing and slashing at every knifeback that lunged at her with bared claws and teeth.

It was a rhythm almost on its own: A beam of magic followed by the swift whistle of a vine followed by the whimper of an injured knifeback. Over and over again would it replay, and gradually, Fearne's sprint turned into a more leisurely jog before she finally came to a stop. She couldn't help but wonder why she had been so worried in the first place.

In what seemed like only a minute, Shirley had already outmaneuvered most of the knifebacks, either rendering them unconscious or sending them fleeing back into the woods with their tails between their legs. The confident smirk on Shirley's face suggested that she was well aware of her own skills as a mage.

Yes, regardless of her being a Medical Mage, she's still a Professional Sorcerer, Fearne told herself, smiling. Out of nowhere, a thought crossed her mind that calling for backup was no longer a necessary option. But just as she felt this, a knifeback, which had eluded Shirley's notice, leaped out from the woods behind her, as if materializing from the very shadows themselves.

Shirley could hear the menacing growls drawing closer and she quickly turned to face the source of the sound. To her horror, the wolf had managed to contort its flexible body through her carefully constructed vine defenses. With a chilling snarl, the wolf pounced, pinning her to the ground. Despite her best efforts, Shirley couldn't dislodge her bleeding arm from the creature's powerful jaws. The wolf's weight was overwhelming, and she struggled in vain against its relentless hold. Though smaller in size, knifebacks were no lightweight adversaries either.

The other knifebacks in the area seemed to sense that the battle had shifted, as one of their own had managed to break through their prey's defenses. They swiftly closed in, seemingly ignoring the wounds they had sustained in their relentless pursuit of food.

A knot formed in Fearne's stomach as she watched seven knifebacks descend on her mother, all the while, Shirley herself continued struggling in the dirt, trying the best she could to shove the beast off of her. In the struggle, she'd lost her wand—a sorcerer's source of power—and she'd be utterly defenseless with the other knifebacks approaching her.

"No..." Fearne uttered. "...You...you can't..."

Get out of here! Now! a voice in the back of her mind shouted.

"No! I can't leave her! I have to do something!" Fearne shouted out loud, and against her will, she dove into a full charge back the way she came. She didn't know when she'd reached for it, but her Thistle Wand was now clutched inside her fist, and as she took another stomp forward, pointing the end of the wand at the knifeback pack, she cast a spell she'd seen Shirley use once. Only once. "Leave her alone!" Fearne cried, tears bubbling in her eyes. "Plant Magic: Flore Spinax!"

The events unfolded rapidly, almost too rapidly for anyone to comprehend. It was like a violent storm of disorder, a tremendous whirlwind of devastation. Fearne could feel her very Essence being drained as the ground quaked beneath her feet.

The earth fractured into fragments, causing birds to scatter from the trees in a frenzy, and groves of scarlet pine trees to break free from the soil. A deep rumbling emanated from the depths of the planet, reverberating in her ears with an intensity surpassing even the most captivating Melody she had ever heard.

From deep within the planet's crust, ominous black vines surged upward with great force, their razor-sharp thorns mercilessly shredding anything in their path. These sinister thorn vines, stemming from a single central point several meters away from Fearne's position, extended their twisted limbs in every direction, cutting through trees, tearing apart foliage, and hurling massive chunks of earth and shrubs into the air, all with deep bellows.

As they raced through the thick forest, the intertwining vines appeared like ravenous serpents, mercilessly destroying everything in their wake. Fearne's heart sank as she witnessed in terror the sudden eruption of one of her blackthorns right at the foot of the pine tree that had just been cured of its decay.

By this point, the knifebacks had completely disregarded Shirley and sought refuge, while Fearne watched in dismay as her massive vines crushed many of them or sent them plummeting into a chasm that had split the earth apart.

Shirley knelt on the forest floor, her arm throbbing from a painful bite wound, the veins around it tracing a macabre pattern. Gritting her teeth, she struggled to rise, and through the shifting trees and trembling ground, she spotted Fearne's concerned expression. Even from that distance, Fearne discerned the smile that had flickered across her mother's face just as she was veiled behind a mass of black-as-night vines, their thorns drawing blood.

"I don't..." Fearne said despondently, falling to her knees as she did, "This...this...wasn't supposed to happen..."