Page 92 of Magical Mischief

She nodded. “Some of the houses were built around them. Others grew into the gaps. That’s why strange things happen when one of the Wards weakens. The roots carry more than magic. They carry memory. Emotion. Even time.”

There were annotations in the margins. Notes about pruning, restoration rituals, and something about a bloom cycle that hadn’t happened in decades were scribbled hurriedly.

One line near the bottom made me stop reading altogether.

If the Heart Grove cannot be revived, a new seed must be planted and rooted in truth. The Ward will not survive on false ground.

“What does that mean?” I asked quietly.

Elira’s fingers traced the line, soft and slow.

“It means the next sapling, the one you saw, it can’t just grow. It has tobelong.It has to be placed in trust, not ambition. Rooted in something real.”

“And if it’s not?”

“It’ll fail before it begins.”

I leaned back in my chair. The air around us felt heavier now, as if the library itself was listening.

The book sprite had curled up near the corner of the table, already asleep, ink still smudged across its nose.

Must be a hard life, being a sprite.

I thought about the tender leaves of new beginnings.

The sapling wasn’t just hope. It was a last chance.

I thought back to my own life. I divorced, my daughter was starting her own life…I could have chosen to wither, but instead, I searched for new beginnings.

Or maybe they searched for me.

And just like me, the sapling had chosen to grow in the shadow of what came before.

I glanced at my grandma.

“I need to go back,” I said. “To the Ward.”

“You won’t be alone,” she said softly.

I smiled at my grandma and nodded. “Nova said the Flame Ward has started to strengthen again because of…”

“You,” my grandma said simply.

“Well, partly because of that.”

“You’re too modest, mylove.”

Grandma Elira and I didn’t talk much on the way back to the Maple Ward. The halls didn’t ask for conversation, and I wasn’t sure I had words for the knot sitting under my ribs anyway. Just knowing the tree was trying… that it had enough will left to grow something new… it stirred something in me that felt older than grief and heavier than hope.

She walked beside me, steady as ever, one hand brushing the stone walls now and then like she was saying hello to the building. I swear sometimes the Academy breathed differently around her.

I had the spell tucked into my pocket—simple, but strong. Nourishment. Not the kind for garden herbs or window box violets. This one had been written for deep roots and tired ground. It pulsed faintly against my birthmark, wrapped in parchment and tied with old twine. I’d added the comfort charm just before we left the library. A little warmth for the elder tree. Nothing fancy. Just something to ease the ache of old age.

We’d just turned the final corner when someone nearly collided with us.

“Are youserious?” Bella said, stopping short, arms flailing a little to keep her balance. She blinked at both of us. “You're going in there?”

“Good to see you too,” I said.