Lottie knelt at the edge of her lotus beds, fingers testing the water temperature. The blooms needed two more weeks of steady warmth to reach their full color — deep pink with gold centers, the kind that drew admirers from across Glisten. She had mapped every bed, tracked every bud, adjusted the spacing between roots to catch the best light. This year would be her finest yet. But Draycca appeared at the water's edge, holding a lily pad cupped in both hands like an offering. Tiny translucent spheres clustered across its surface, each one catching the light. Dragonfly eggs. Draycca's face held that particular brightness she got when a batch was especially fragile. "They need still water," she said. "Somewhere safe until they hatch. Your lotus beds are perfect." Lottie looked from the eggs to her carefully planned garden. The spacing she'd calculated wouldn't work with a lily pad floating between the stems. The eggs would need shade, protection, constant watching. She'd have to build a pathway to check them without disturbing the roots. Yet Draycca stood there with that hopeful expression, and Lottie found herself nodding before she'd fully thought it through. She spent the rest of the afternoon laying wooden planks across the water, creating a narrow walk between her prize blooms. She nestled the lily pad in a quiet spot where the current barely moved, then cleared a patch of muddy shore and planted tall reeds around scattered rocks. When the dragonflies hatched, they'd need somewhere to rest and dry their wings. Her lotus beds would be a nursery now, not just a garden. The thought settled into her chest like a stone dropping into still water — heavier than she'd expected, but somehow right.