Page 43 of The Scars Within
And just like that, the conversation was over. He turned and left the station, leaving me more confused than ever. My thoughts were interrupted as we arrived at the conservatory.
If I thought the library was beautiful, the conservatory at Mageia War College is a masterpiece. Built with enchanted glass and black metal fixtures, it shines like its own magical realm tucked within the college’s grounds. As we entered, I looked up at the domed glass roof that soars high into the sky, casting an even more magical glow with the sunlight that floods the space.
Vines and flowering plants drape across the ceiling, cling to the walls, and tower over us from branch to branch. Some have the same lanterns from the library dangling from them.
Our group ventured into the space, roaming around the different biomes the conservatory is home to. Thanks to the enchanted glass, each ecosystem is given the appropriate living conditions to help the foliage thrive year-round. Laney and I walked through the humid tropical zone filled with towering trees and lush bottom plants. The second we stepped into the desert, the humidity ceased, and the unforgiving heat slapped us in the face. We skedaddled out of there, but not without admiring the cute cacti and succulents, and right into the freezing tundra that didn’t have much for us to see. Laney and I giggled in awe of the magic around us, our breath creating clouds of mist in front of us. She grasped my hand and dragged me into the rainforest.
The conservatory has benches and study nooks along the pathways where cadets can observe the plants up close or practice their lessons.
As we explored the diverse ecosystems, we arrived at the heart of the conservatory—the classroom space. Benches bordered the square area, and a magnificent weeping willow stood at its center, about half thesize of the one in the library. The wooden benches seemed to flow naturally from the willow’s trunk as if the tree itself had shaped them. Shelves were carved into the wide trunk, holding a variety of majestic bottles in all different shapes, colors, and sizes.
The air inside is thick with the scent of flowers, earth, and magic. As we walked to find our seats, I let my fingers breeze against the colorful flowers. I let my mind roam into the possibilities of Herbology mixed with our elements.
Cora must be thriving here.
My thoughts must have summoned her because, out of nowhere, a sudden burst of white smoke and twinkling embers erupted from the ground, and there stood Cora at the center of it all.
I had no idea she could do that.
The stunning display silenced the entire class of cadets while I found myself wondering just how much Cora had evolved since coming here. I always knew she was exceptionally gifted at crafting special salves and potions, but I’d only ever seen her use her tangible element.
“And that,” Cora announced with a dramatic bow and a twirl of her hands. “Is something you’ll all be able to do if you excel in this class.” She straightened up, clapping her hands with that warm, welcoming smile I knew so well.
Hearing Aunt Cora go by ‘Professor Reyes’ was something I would have to get used to. But despite the formality, our first Herbology class with her was nothing short of delightful. From the moment she appeared in a burst of white smoke, her vibrant energy filled the room, and it soon spread to all of us. Her laughter bubbled up as easily as the potions she brewed, putting everyone at ease, even the most nervous cadets, who couldn’t help but smile in her presence.
Dressed in flowing robes adorned with embroidered vines and flowers that seemed to sway with her every move, Cora embodied the nature she taught. Her hair was pinned up with a sprig of lavender. A few loose tendrils framed her face, giving her an effortlessly whimsical appearance.
For her first class, she didn’t waste time on a lecture. Instead, she plunged us right into hands-on learning. Gathering the students in a circle around the weeping willow at the conservatory’s center, she had a mischievous twinkle in her features as she instructed us to close our eyes and focus on the natural energy around us.
As we settled into a quiet focus, Cora spoke about the importance of connecting with plants on a deeper level. We learned that even without the power to channel the earth element, one can still form a special bond with the world around them. She taught us that every plant has its own magical properties that can be harnessed by anyone with the proper knowledge of how to connect with them.
Cora demonstrated the act by gently placing her hand on the willow’s trunk and murmuring a soft incantation without using her element. The willow beamed with magic before our eyes, its leaves shimmering with a faint golden light as they rustled softly.
Next, Cora handed out small potted plants—each one different, ranging from vibrant herbs to tiny magical fungi. “These are your partners for the term,” she said with a grin. “You’ll nurture them, learn from them, and, most importantly, listen to them. They have much to teach you if you’re willing to listen.”
Throughout the class, Cora kept the mood light and playful. She shared stories of her own misadventures with magical plants, like the time she accidentally brewed a potion that made her sing everything she said for a week, much to the delight of her students. We all laughed, the tension of the new term melting away as I realized just how much I needed this class—and Aunt Cora’s warmth—in my life again.
By the end of the lesson, my peers were buzzing with excitement. Everyone was chatting about what types of plants they wanted to learn more about. I watched my aunt beam as she chatted with my fellow cadets, her pride and joy evident in every interaction. She has truly thrived here at Mageia, and her passion was contagious. She nurtured our knowledge of Herbology and deepened our love for the natural world and the magic it holds.
I didn’t feel a pang of envy that while she was flourishing here at Mageia, I had been slowly wasting away in that shed.
Not at all.
Did I?
After lunch, my group returned to our chambers to drop off our new potted plants. As I walked, I couldn’t help but compare this assignment to one I remembered from back home, where young women carried flour sacks with cloth diapers attached for weeks as practice for childcare. Keeping this plant alive, though, felt like it would be much more work than an unbaked baby.
As we reached our dorm, I noticed Shayde stepping out of his room. I gave my friends a reassuring nod, signaling that I’d catch up with them for Survival Training, and then walked over to get his attention.
“Hey,” I greeted, a bit awkwardly.
Shayde turned to meet my gaze. “Hey there. No coffee spill today?” He smiled a warm, genuine smile that could brighten anyone’s worst day. He had this quality about him, the kind that made you feel like you could trust him with your secrets and doubts, that he would always be a safe space.
Heat rushed to my cheeks as I fought to keep my smile from spreading too wide. “No, but I wanted to thank you again for yesterday morning.”
“No need. You’re more than welcome, Scar.” Shayde stepped closer. He opened his mouth to say something, but his gaze fell on my potted plant, and his expression shifted. He seemed… stunned?
“What is this?” his brows knitted together.
