The greenhouse was tucked into the edge of the academy's grounds, half-wrapped in ivy and glass that caught the pale morning light like frozen breath. Everything in Theralis seemed to resist softness, but here, for a moment, the world exhaled. Moss lined the base of the outer walls. Tall windows curved like the bellies of old boats, fogged with the condensation of early summer.
Arana led the way, speaking softly to a groundskeeper near the path. They exchanged a few words, and he pointed toward a door wrapped in creeping yellow vine.
Inside, the scent of mint and damp soil pressed close. Rows of rare plants stretched like quiet guardians between the stone floor and the arched glass ceiling. And amid them, trimming back the flowering tops of a silverleaf vine, stood Aera Nemein.
She didn't look surprised to see them.
She looked tired. Tired in the way grief settles into someone's limbs long before the loss ever arrives.
"You're here about Kaesa," she said, setting her shears aside.
Arana offered a respectful nod. "We're… gathering memories. Tracing her steps."
Ravine remained silent beside her, hands tucked into her cloak.
Aera's expression folded inward. She gestured to a nearby bench carved from pale driftwood. "Sit. You might as well hear it properly."
They did.
Aera lowered herself slowly beside the vine she'd been tending. Her eyes stayed fixed on it as she began.
"It started with Maelon Serre."
Ravine felt something shift in the air, but her face did not betray it.
"He came here alone," Aera continued. "Quiet. Measured. Like he was weighing every word before letting it out. But he asked about alchemy — not just any kind. Healing. He wanted to understand how to push it further. How to restore without cost."
She leaned forward, elbows on her knees.
"I told him about the Ocean Bead."
Arana looked up, brows slightly raised. "What is that?"
Aera smiled faintly. "A theory. A relic. We used to talk about it like children whispering old secrets. They say it can enhance alchemy — lower the burden of energy used, especially for healing. It doesn't create life. But it makes preserving it… easier."
"And Kaesa believed in it?" Arana asked.
"She laughed at first. Said it was foolish myth. But Maelon was patient. He gave her time. Books. Notes from older ruins. And he listened. Really listened."
Aera's voice dropped.
"He was the one who lit the fire in her. Not forcefully — gently. Like placing kindling and letting her strike the flame herself."
She reached to pinch a dead bloom from the vine.
"She dove in. Gave herself to the research. Said they'd need more eyes. That's when he brought Niva."
Ravine looked down.
Aera continued. "She wore the Bloom — the Bloom of Red Moonlight. We all remembered it. There's no way not to. It's rare. Beautiful. Dangerous. It caught every light like it was made of memory."
Her voice softened. "They shared something. Not love, I think. Or maybe something older than love. They were bonded in a way childhood friends often are — built from the same root. It was like they spoke in glances."
She stood slowly and moved to a small table tucked against the greenhouse wall. A shelf held a small folded piece of parchment. She returned with it and placed it into Arana's hands.
"Her final sketches. She left them with me. I told her she was reckless. She said recklessness is just passion that's not yet understood."
They read the scrawled notes — partial maps, glyphs, theories on aquatic ruins.
"She said they'd leave in three weeks. That Maelon wanted to test the site first. That he would clear the way."
Arana closed the parchment. "You haven't heard from her since?"
Aera shook her head. "Nothing. But I waited. For years."
Arana hesitated.
Then she said, "We're not just gathering memories, Aera. We're… laying stories to rest. For those who didn't come back."
Aera stilled.
It took a few breaths.
Then a whisper: "So she's not—"
Arana didn't answer directly.
But something in the stillness between them gave the truth.
Aera bowed her head.
Her breath hitched. Once. Twice.
Then she reached up and wiped her cheeks with the heel of her palm.
"I told her not to go. I told her it wasn't worth it."
Arana rose quietly.
"We'll carry her memory," she said.
Aera nodded. "Then… find the Ocean Bead. And make sure it wasn't all for nothing."
Ravine, silent still, followed Arana out of the greenhouse.
Behind them, life continued growing beneath glass.