The novelty of the greenhouse soon faded into the grueling, repetitive reality of a winter routine. Magic made the water warmer and the air more bearable, but it did not muck the stalls, nor did it turn the compost.
Jacob spent his mornings with Sera in the greenhouse. The salt-grass bulbs were thriving, their emerald blades thick and waxy. Every few days, they had to carefully upend the pots to check the progress. Jacob would watch as Sera used her delicate touch to separate the newly formed daughter bulbs from the parents.
Ever since he noticed that her singing could coax the plants to grow more quickly, and that his intent could be applied similarly, he had enchanted the pots to contain that same intent. It had proven to help the bulbs to grow at an unnatural pace.
"This one has tripled," Sera noted, her fingers stained with the dark, loamy soil Jacob had prepared. She held up a bulb that had split into three distinct, healthy sections. "If they keep this pace, we will have enough to cover the entire east field by the time the first thaw hits."
Jacob nodded, taking the new bulbs and settling them into fresh pots. He found that once the initial Intent was set, the magic tended to hold its shape as long as the physical conditions were maintained.
He was learning that his magic was becoming more of a silent companion than a tool. It responded to the clarity of his mind, shaping the world because he simply willed it to be so, though he didn't fully understand why it was so much easier for him than for others.
I remember that my soul should be stronger, and getting stronger, perhaps that has something to do with it. I know the strength of the soul determines a person's talent and aptitude in basically anything having to do with magic . . .
Across the yard, Arthur was busy in the woodshed. He was practicing the shaping trick Jacob had shown him on the farm's tool handles, trying to coax the wood into a more resilient form. Jacob could see the frustration in his father's eyes.
Arthur had hit a wall that neither of them quite understood.
System Notification:Farmer Arthur Hemlock has reached Level 10 in Innate Shaping. Progress is halted. Requirements for Rank Advancement not met.
Arthur let out a long, heavy breath and tossed a pitchfork handle onto the pile. The wood was unnaturally smooth and dense, but it hadn't changed at all in three days.
"It won't take more, Jacob," Arthur said, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. "I can feel the magic sitting there, but it's like I've run out of room. I try to visualize the wood becoming like iron, but the mana just . . . stops. It sits on the surface like water on an oiled hide. It won't sink in any deeper."
Jacob leaned against the doorframe, watching the way the mana pooled around the handle. "I'm not sure why that is, Father. Maybe we're missing a piece of the puzzle. I just see the shape I want and the magic moves. I thought it would be the same for you."
Arthur grunted, his face tight with a familiar, weary disappointment. "I'm a farmer, not a mage. I've always found that a tool has a limit to how much you can sharpen it before the steel gives up. It was the same when I tried to learn more about woodworking years ago. I hit a point where the world just stopped teaching me. If this is as far as I can take it, then I'll just have to be satisfied with what I can do . . ."
Jacob didn't have an answer. He didn't understand the System's limits or why Arthur was locked into his role. He only knew that his father's progress had plateaued while his own felt like an open sky. It felt unfair, but the mechanics of the world remained a mystery to him.
The rest of the family stayed busy with the indoor chores. May and Lila spent hours spinning wool and preparing preserved meats, while Caleb practiced his marksmanship by throwing stones at frozen fence posts. The atmosphere was one of quiet preparation. They were no longer just surviving the winter, they were preparing to explode into growth the moment the sun stayed up long enough to melt the ice.
One evening, after the chores were done and the house was quiet, Jacob sat at his desk. He looked at the row of Earth Cores he had bought, then at the common D-rank Water Core. He wanted to see if his Intent could work as easily with a different affinity.
He closed his eyes and visualized the core as a still, deep pool. He didn't want to make a weapon. He just wanted to see if he could coax the geometric shape out of a fluid element before putting it back where it belongs. He let his mind reach out, not commanding the core, but inviting the magic within to reveal its structure.
Beside him, he could hear the faint, rhythmic breathing of the household as they slept. He felt the partnership with his mana, the steady, familiar presence that had grown stronger with every day of honest labor. He was just a Hemlock, keeping the fire lit while the world waited for spring.
When he pulled the geometric shape from the water core, he could feel a thrum of power from it. He had managed to keep the core intact in one hand while he was looking at the stable geometric shape of the organic magic in his other hand.
It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen, like a multi-dimensional snowflake. It whispered promises of icy power and flowing magic. The ability to directly manipulate water in all of its forms, but there was more to it. Just like earth magic had some sort of connection to gravity, it seemed that water magic also had a link to something more... Jacob just did not know what that something was quite yet.
But I will find out in time, I will know everything in time . . .