Peonie Plumheart's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Peonie checked the humidity gauge twice before stepping outside. Seventy-nine percent. Good. The greenhouse would hold steady for an hour, maybe two. She needed cuttings to fill the empty beds along the south wall, specimens hardy enough to survive while she focused everything on the Lunara's Tear. The shack sat deeper in the forest than her usual trade routes. Moss draped thick over the wooden walls, and strange symbols marked the doorway. She'd heard whispers about it from the mineral vendor, cautious words about rare stock and no questions asked. Inside, the hooded trader waited behind a table. Three glass orbs glowed softly in the dim light. Each one held cuttings suspended in what looked like liquid moonlight. Peonie recognized silverleaf and thornveil, both notoriously difficult to cultivate. The third orb held something she'd never seen before, its petals shifting between pink and violet. The trader's voice came low and rough. "Fae-touched rootstock. They'll thrive in any greenhouse that can handle Lunara's Tear." Peonie went still. She'd told no one about the Lunara's Tear. The trader pushed the orbs forward. "I want your first successful bloom. Whatever it is you're growing." Peonie's hand stopped halfway to the nearest orb. The Lunara's Tear belonged to the healer, a debt she'd carried for years. She could lie, promise something else. But traders like this always knew. She opened her mouth, then closed it. The trader reached beneath the table and drew out something wrapped in dark cloth. When the fabric fell away, iridescent light filled the small room. A wing. Not whole, but preserved somehow, each feather shimmering with colors that shouldn't exist together. "Or this," the trader said. "A family wing. One you've lost." Peonie couldn't breathe. She knew that pattern, those exact shades of blue bleeding into gold. Her sister had worn wings like that before the sickness took her. Before Peonie learned that some plants could heal what medicine couldn't touch. The trader was offering her a piece of what she'd already lost in exchange for what she was trying to save. The greenhouse beds could wait. The healer couldn't. Peonie turned toward the door without another word, leaving the glowing orbs and the impossible wing behind. Outside, the forest air felt clean again.