Page 32 of Evergreen Academy (Society of Magical Botanists #1)
Chapter Thirty-One
O n Friday, while everyone else was at their affinity studies classes, I took advantage of the empty library. First, I went to the magical botanist history section.
Ever since Yasmin had told me that Callan was a founder’s descendant, I wanted to know more. I found a book on the history of Evergreen Academy and pulled it from the shelf.
I scanned the book, drinking in the history like it was a novel, not a textbook.
I learned that the nine founders of Evergreen Academy were individuals with extremely strong lead affinities.
One person with each lead affinity had come together to create the school and the verdant shield that surrounded it.
My eyes jumped to the name of the tree founder—Douglas Vitalis. That must have been Callan’s ancestor. I skimmed the other names, jotting them down in my notebook before switching gears.
I wanted to do some sketching, so I sought out the section on botanical drawing.
I’d already looked at some of the more modern books, but today my eyes were drawn to a section on the topmost shelf of books that were older, their bindings likely only held intact with botanical magic.
I used the rolling ladder to retrieve a few of them then returned to my favorite station at the table inside the tree’s hollow.
I opened one book with drawings that appeared to be hundreds of years old. The pages were yellowed and the drawings a soft brown. Notes in a scrawling cursive in a language I couldn’t read were crammed all around the floral drawings.
As I flipped to the second page, I felt a strange warmth in my hands. It was gone a moment later, and I continued to peruse the book, wondering what it would have been like to be the person creating these drawings.
In many cases, it was the first time certain plants had ever been drawn in detail.
Without cameras, there was no other way to document what these species had looked like.
Several of the plants were now slightly different from years of gene selection both natural and unnatural, and some were likely extinct.
I tucked the books in a drawer below the table to return to later and spent a little time in the sunnier part of the library with my drawing notebook, in which I sketched a massive bluebell flowering plant that was growing in the window.
The dozens of bell-shaped petals seemed to be opening right toward me, as if begging to be drawn.
In that moment, I realized that even if I didn’t have more than baseline magical botanist magic, the privilege of studying here would be more than enough.
Just as I was finishing my sketch, the lights in the room flickered, and my ring pulsed on my finger. I stood up, slipping my notebook into my backpack. Had the verdant shield wavered again?
I rushed down the stairs to see a few students returning from their affinity studies classes, chatting about seemingly normal topics. Otherwise, the place was fairly empty. Had the students who were outdoors noticed that the shield had flickered?
I looked around for a teacher to report the incident to, just in case. Professor Variegata was the first one I found, fiddling with the controls in Mendel’s Atrium.
“Hi, Professor Variegata. Did you notice the shield flicker a few minutes ago?”
“Hi, Briar. Yes, I did. I’m resetting the controls in here because of it.”
I knew I could leave now, but there was something deep within me that was both curious and concerned about these flickering spells. “Do you need any help?” I asked.
“That’s very kind of you, but I’m almost done here.”
After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to go all in. “Do you know why the shield is flickering?”
Professor Variegata paused her work and turned toward me. “Most likely, it’s a combination of soil deterioration and the weakening of magical botanists over time. The strength of the shield is directly proportional to the soil health and the power of the magical botanists who charge it.”
“But I thought Callan Rhodes was one of the most powerful magical botanists in generations?”
Professor Variegata looked amused at my phrasing, but she nodded. “He is. We were hoping that his presence would slow the weakening, but sometimes, once things like this have started to accelerate, it may not be possible to slow or even reverse the decline.”
“So then what can we do about it?”
Professor Variegata studied me, smiling kindly. “There’s nothing you need to worry about, Briar. Professor East is taking care of it. Now go and enjoy your weekend.”
I thanked her and left the atrium, but I couldn’t quash the nagging feeling that her answer wasn’t enough.