Page 16 of Growing Memories (Valley of Sylveren #2)

It remained a mystery to the world how the Eyllic Empire had crafted its poison with so singular a purpose as to only cause destruction in the kingdom of Rhell.

It seeped ever downward from where it had first been unleashed at Rhell’s northeastern border, unrelenting in its pursuit of the magical wellspring in the capital city.

Outward spread occurred more from measures taken trying to slow its progress than the poison naturally sprawling out.

But once contaminated soil was taken down into the Valley—the only region willing to allow such a thing—it was quickly rendered inert.

Whether it was the natural protection of the Valley itself, through the grace of its own wellspring or the lingering presence of its divine aspect, the Child, or something innate in the magical engineering of the poison, it didn’t take hold beyond Rhell.

Through careful handling and prodigious use of enchanted enclosures, mages at Sylveren were able to maintain the blight in soil samples brought to the university for testing, but even those went sterile within weeks.

A new wrinkle for the elective arose when a shipment of soil from one of the Rhellian containment zones arrived completely inert.

Despite having more concentrated levels of poison in the areas where restoration efforts had succeeded in curbing the spread, the poison rendered itself useless as soon as it entered the Valley.

Great for border security, but a problem for Ollas and Rai’s class and their baby seedlings.

Eunny took half of the load, throwing up an elbow to block Zhenya when she tried to reclaim it. “Hush. You’re not going to be able to see over the top of this.”

Zhenya relented with a smile. “Thanks.” She rifled through a drawer, pulling out a few more random bottles before leading the way back to the Sapling, the mid-level greenhouse. “You don’t need to stay. I just wanted to say hi.”

“It’s no trouble. Unless you want me to leave you alone,” Eunny said, helping to unpack Zhenya’s haul.

“Not at all. How are you liking grovetending?” Zhenya asked as she drew an ink bottle toward her and pulled a dip pen from her pocket. “I don’t get to be in the lab as much as I’d hoped for the elective.”

“You’re already in there or class or the library often enough.” Eunny let her eyes travel across the tidy rows of the students’ trays lining one antechamber. “The gardening stuff is fine, but I don’t think I’ve found my second calling.”

She watched as Zhenya summoned a spot of golden-white light to the tip of her index finger and touched her pen’s nib. A faint glow surrounded the point as she gave it a gentle swirl in the ink.

“This probably wasn’t the best introduction,” Zhenya said as she began to inscribe runes on an empty glass jug’s blank label. “Blended Growing is fun, or maybe Augmentation in Food Safety. That one keeps you on your toes with all the things catching fire or exploding. Can be smelly, though.”

Eunny hummed in consideration. “What’s this for?”

“Sealing enchantments. We’re trying different methods of creating a biome for transporting the containment zone soil here.”

“Ink works like that?”

Zhenya shrugged. “Within reason, we hope. If you want significant long-term storage, you’re going to want real frost charms and collaborative work, but the contaminated soil was too reactive to the heavier duty spells. Ollas is looking better,” she added, eyes on her work.

“Yea,” Eunny agreed, a melancholic sigh rising from her chest. Goddess break, that feeling again. She forced a smile. “He’s moving along pretty well. Pretty soon, he won’t need me at all.”

“We can’t convince you to stay?” Zhen glanced sideways at her. “It’s nice having you up here.”

Eunny’s smile was no longer forced, but the melancholy remained, only changing in tenor. “You’re not rid of me just yet.”

But her usefulness was running short. Eunny had always known it would, that helping Ollas was never meant to last more than a few weeks. She hadn’t considered that she’d ever want to stay, though, and the prospect was growing ever so tempting.

But…she couldn’t. She’d been serious when she’d said this was just to help out a friend, to make up for some of the harm she’d caused, that was all. No putting down roots in the community, no getting used to this path in her life. It wouldn’t last. It couldn’t.

Once Zhenya was finished, Eunny helped her carry her imbued glassware to the specialty greenhouse that housed the work of high-level mages.

They parted ways, Zhenya going off to finish recordkeeping for Professor Rai.

Eunny continued on toward the Grove, pausing at the foot of the outer stair.

The energetic clamor of the Heartwood wafted toward her on the air, plucking at her chest. The sounds were blurred through the wood, but there was a joyous note to them, a warmth that invited with open arms.

Eunny made it halfway up the steps to the residence branch before stopping. She wasn’t staying; she just already happened to be here, for the time being. If her days in the Grove were already numbered, what could it hurt to pass through the common room?

Eunny turned around and descended the stairs with measured steps. She’d do a quick pass through the common room, see if she could snag whatever the latest baked good was, maybe raid the tea stash, since she’d only brought one tin with her and some variety would be nice.

A dozen Grove residents of varying years were spread throughout the Heartwood.

Several were engaged in a board game Eunny didn’t recognize.

Judging by the laughter and trio of flagons on the table, two of which were tipped on their sides, the logic of the game was a thing of the past. The cloying scent of cheap cordial fermented to within an inch of its life assailed her nose.

Hard to say if it had been enhanced by magic or the limits of a student’s budget.

Probably both, and they’d pay for it with killer hangovers in the morning.

One of the smaller tables in the back had a nearly empty plate of cookies that looked like they couldn’t decide if they were gray or purple.

“Careful,” a voice murmured from Eunny’s left. “Soph didn’t get the proportions right.” Ennis, the know-it-all kid from the elective, strolled over from their place on a nearby couch. “The dumplings were better.” They pointed at a smaller, woefully empty plate.

Eunny broke off a corner of a cookie and nibbled. It smelled overwhelmingly of lavender and tasted like medicine that badly wanted to be soap. Maybe being alone in her room wasn’t such a bad option after all. She went to the counter to peruse the tea selection. Ennis followed.

“You’re not a grovetender,” they said, helping themselves to a mug.

“You noticed.”

“How’d you manage living here, then?”

“Friends in high places.” Eunny helped herself to a disposable tea bag and opened a tin of a toasted green variety her aunt brought in from one of the Radiant Isles.

“You’re a light mage. And you’re old. Shouldn’t you be in Belle or something?” The kid pulled three jars toward them and started spooning tiny dried pieces of bitter melon into a strainer basket in the mug.

“I’m working on—” Eunny eyed the amounts going into the mug. “What are you doing?”

“Making a wellness and digestion blend. What?” They gave her a defensive look. “I read up about it.”

Eunny pressed her eyes closed. For patience, and also to block out the image of the kid adding heaps of blaze-spotted gentian to their mug. The clink of the spoon against a jar of powdered dandelion made Eunny fling her hand out to stop Ennis from lifting the lid.

“You need about four more stomachs to manage any of that.”

“There’s a chapter on this in the Basics to Herbalism book,” Ennis said, a mulish jut to their chin.

“Ever heard of a thing called moderation?” Not to mention that the student-run mercantile had an entire section devoted to herbal remedies. Blends that were made under the supervision of Magister levels, not two lines in an introductory textbook.

“It’s good for me.” Ennis shook one of the jars. “Extra goodness.”

Gods all break.

“Maybe if you were part ruminant.” Eunny knocked their hand away and emptied the strainer into the compost bin, shushing Ennis’s indignant squawk. “I’ve known you for all of a day and I can tell you don’t need that much cooling. Move.”

Eunny swept the kid aside, dumping their disaster mug and exchanging their jars for a mild tisane of forest herbs with speckled ashberries for interest.

Adding enough hot water to fill the mug, she warned, “Don’t touch that until I’m done,” before grabbing another teabag. Taking her time, Eunny made herself another blend, raiding the tins of frosted chamomile and dried elderberries.

Ennis huffed, loudly, but did as they were ordered. When Eunny finally gave them a nod, they slowly lifted the mug. Much sniffing and suspicious looks were done, but when they finally deigned to take a tiny sip, it was quickly followed by a larger one.

“It’s fine,” they sniffed. “Could use more honey.”

“Rot your teeth out.” Eunny slid the pot in their direction before grabbing her pilfered teabags. “If you really want something for your gut, just go to the student store. Get the free ones and sweeten back here.”

Ennis rolled their eyes as they took another sip. “Okay, Mom.” They smirked at Eunny’s appalled look, considering the mug. “Guess you know something.” They sauntered back to the couch.

Eunny shook her head. It wasn’t even apothecary work so much as using some common sense. Besides, she didn’t do that work anymore. This did nothing to change her mind about that.

She snorted, covering her mouth to suppress the laugh that bubbled up. The begrudging concession did make her feel an obnoxious amount of vindication.

“Hey, Handywoman Song!” Ennis called, waving at her from their spot on the couch.

Eunny wandered over. “Handywoman?”

“It’s what you are, isn’t it?” The kid shrugged. “If you studied body magic when you were here, how’d you get so good at repair work?”

“I love the repair café!” exclaimed a red-haired girl sitting next to Ennis who Eunny vaguely recognized from being around the Grove. “Will it open again soon? The Stitchery were teaching us decorative mending.”

“I’m not sure. There was a lot of damage,” Eunny said, feeling monstrous as the girl visibly wilted at the news. “You like it that much?”

“Yes! I didn’t know how to do any of my own repairs before,” the girl said.

Somehow, Eunny ended up seated on the couch, listening to the life story of the girl—the aforementioned Soph of the tragic cookies—and how she’d come to Sylveren after growing up in North District, Graelynd.

It was strangely pleasant, hearing her exuberance for the repair café; Eunny had grown too used to Gransen’s brand of obsession disguised as passion.

She found herself sharing her tale of summers spent at the teashop and finally deciding to make the move permanent when life in Central no longer held any appeal.

It was a truncated, glossed-over version of events, but the mixed emotions of fear and excitement at starting over were true enough.

Do you ever miss it? Your life there? No, no she didn’t. But the life she’d hemmed herself into, a repair café and a profession devoid of magic—it was getting harder to remain content with that life, too. Harder not to be tempted to give other things a chance.

When Eunny finally left to meander back upstairs, a flicker of the regret she saw in Ennis and Soph’s faces at the night coming to a close resonated with her own.