I glanced at Sir Jin, who was already squinting at her like she was some sort of oracle crossed with a caffeinated maniac.
Coffi, as always, was crouched nearby, eyes scanning for anything remotely dangerous, like an overprotective bouncer guarding the diva herself.
Henry and Joff were trying to look useful, holding baskets of soil, water, and… some enchanted sticks? I had no idea what they thought would help, but it looked… messy.
The villagers—well, the elves—stared at her like she was speaking a language they didn't have words for. Which, honestly, she basically was. She told them to kneel, plant their hands in the soil, and "let your spirit Qi mingle with the life beneath you," which I tried not to roll my eyes at.
But I couldn't help it. Her spirit Qi was like a hurricane in slow motion; the village literally started quivering, leaves twitching, the air smelling faintly like… freshly baked bread? I couldn't tell if that was her magic or me imagining things.
