Dr. Olivia Greenwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The rescued plants filled Olivia's study, but green magic was still only words in old books. She had read every page. She had never once made a leaf answer her. Now she knelt among the sealed pots and pressed her hand to a fern. Nothing stirred. The books said she needed a source to learn the first techniques. She had none. Without that first spark, she could not revive a single stem, let alone the world-tree. Hooves clicked on the study floor. A small reindeer stood in the doorway, grey fur dotted with brown, a blue cloth saddle across its back. It had wandered in from the glass conservatory. Olivia stared. She had left the outer door open. The animal watched her with dark, patient eyes, then lowered its antlers toward a shadowed corner she had never used for plants. She followed its gaze. There, half-hidden behind a shelf Marcus had built, sat a potted tree she had forgotten. Deep purple blossoms crowned its branches. Its leaves were glossy and full, untouched by any grey. She had bought it for its beauty, not its use. The reindeer nosed the pot and huffed, as if to say, here. "You want me to try this one," she said. The animal blinked. Olivia set both palms against the trunk. She closed her eyes and recited the first technique from memory. She pushed her intent into the bark the way the text described, slow and steady, like breathing. For a moment nothing changed. Then warmth spread under her hands. The purple blossoms did not wilt. They opened wider. A thread of feeling passed from the tree into her fingers. It was faint but real, a pulse of life she could grip and pull. This was the source. The lost art was not empty words. The purple tree fed the magic, and the magic answered. She laughed out loud, sharp with relief. She had done it. She had made green magic work. But the pulse she pulled did not renew itself. As she drew on the tree, its glossy leaves dulled at the edges. She stopped, breathing hard, and understood the cost. The revival did not create life from nothing. It moved life from one plant into her work. To feed the dying world-tree, she would have to spend healthy plants. And she had only the few she had saved. The reindeer nudged her shoulder. Olivia touched the fading leaves of the purple tree and did the sum in her head. The world-tree was vast. These pots were small. She had learned the art, but the art demanded fuel she did not have. She needed far more green than a sealed study could hold, and the blight had already eaten the rest of Kauri. She stood. The first technique was hers now. The next problem was where to find enough life to spend.