Wren sat next to me while I thumbed through a book recommended by Ezra on the God of Perseverance. “Did you know that in the early days, Immortality and Perseverance were the leading creators of the life here on Nuria? It’s why their magic is everywhere you look.” I tapped a picture of an avian, their stance was that of the fire wielders I saw earlier, but from their hands a devastating gust brewed. I had come to learn air magic was a combination of fire magic and water magic. “Back in the bramble I don’t think we ever learned about the other magics like this.”

Wren tapped his pen against the math worksheet he had gotten from King Aldous. While the rest of us were assigned or chose specialized course, Wren had been left adrift. He had seemed content with it too, until King Aldous had practically plucked him from side work and began giving him an education. 

“Rebirth and Immortality had a falling out that led to the first God war, fire and earth were at odds, so I don’t imagine there was much to learn past that. But I think Rebirth was okay with Perseverance?”

“That’s the thing, I don’t even remember if I was taught any of that. Isn’t it weird? Only humans and elves could utilize the Earth’s energy. There’s so much out there about fire and water magic, and the magics that came because of the mixture of the two of them, but there is hardly anything from earth magic. Why do you think that is?”

“Your guess would have to be as good as mine. I don’t even know much about earth magic either.” He let out a heavy sigh, staring at a particular equation with a mournful look. “Let alone any of this other stuff. I mean what even is an ‘X’? And how do you solve it?”

“I think only you can figure that one out buddy.” I offered him comfort by placing a hand on his shoulder. I glanced at his worksheet and couldn’t hold back a laugh. “What are you drawing in the corners there?”

“It was supposed to be the bird I saw in the window this morning.” He grumbled.

“It’s cute. I didn’t think you had interest in drawing.” I slid the worksheet closer to get a look at it. Wren didn’t show interest in much, so to know he had chosen to draw in the margins of his paper a bird he noticed was rather innocent of him.

“It was just boredom.” I could see the tips of his ears turn red as he looked away. “I wouldn’t say I have an interest in drawing. It was at least better than math.”

Pushing the worksheet back to him, I turned back to the book I had been reading. “Well maybe with a little more practice you might find you like it.” With an eye roll he turned back to trying to solve his equations in our shared silence.

There was so much I wanted to know, hardly anyone to turn to for answers. Just these books. The Children of the Yew used to share our stories with our words, rather than written text. It built communities, forged bonds with those willing to come and listen. “I wonder what knowledge has been lost to the wars.” Wren looked up, something flickering behind his eyes. “The Bramble is already beginning to wither to time. Our people, since we didn’t write anything down, I’m scared their voices will be lost.”

“It’s never too late. You can be their voice now.”

I turned another page in my book and found a folded piece of paper. Scribbled in familiar handwriting I paused. I ran my thumb across the loop of the letters, written in practiced cursive, but too quick like he couldn’t write fast enough.

Between us I unfolded the paper for us both to look at. Up at the top was a note underlined.

Traditional food at festivals included lots of vegetarian dishes. Specialty juices made from the many berries that grew there that don’t grow here in Darsineka. What could I do to bring them a taste of home?

It was a page full of notes about the Children of the Yew and the Bramble. “Is that Clay’s handwriting?” Wren picked up the page to look at it closer. I hadn’t expected it. Clay had taken the time. To remember. To write it down when I couldn’t.

I hadn’t realized how much it would mean to see someone else remember for me.

“That’s what it looks like to me.” I looked at the pages it had been tucked into. A picture of the Yew tree that was at the center of the Renascent Bramble with a previous village chief who stood proud next to his daughter. He wore a white robe, hands folded delicately in front of himself, a flower bloomed from his palms. His daughter in a similar attire, a flower between her palms as well, a big smile on her face.

The action of the flower blooming was one I was familiar with. It was something many children did first. From there they would plant it within a garden at the foot of the Yew tree at the center of town. Artek had planted a flower there too, as many did before him.

“Wren look.” I breathlessly called for his attention. He leaned over to look with me. In the last century there hadn’t been many photographs of our home. Each one rare and special. This one took up almost a full page, the following page with a description of the aging ceremony I was familiar with.

“Would you look at that.” Wren smiled softly. “There were people out there interested enough to write our stories for us. Buried but not forgotten.”

-

“Last week we covered Immortality and his gift of fire. As a recap, Immortality was the God of Eisteria who gifted life and magic everywhere he went. Creating dragons, avians, vampires, the fae and many more subspecies. His magic is the most prevalent in Nuria with many of the region's religions being based off the gifts he gave. We can gather from history that he is still alive and prevalent today, but after the destruction of Eisteria in the first God war, we don’t know his whereabouts. But the same can be said for Perseverance who disappeared shortly after the fall of Caius, when he almost destroyed Archmire during the second God War.” Kara paused. “Speculations are all we have as records of her are scarce. But she is who we have to thank for magic like mine.”

Kara hovered her hand over a lump of clay, as she dragged her hand up it began to take its own form. “If we think of fire as the element of power, courage, and wisdom; then water is change, creativity, and humanity. Fire can create life, but water is the foundation of said life and is found in everything. There is moisture in this clay that can be manipulated, much like the cells of one’s body.” Once the clay had formed a small vase, she turned her hand upwards. “There is life in the air we breathe and in the soil we walk upon. It is how we harness the gift given to us, that one is able to grasp even a sliver of power that the Gods have intended for you.”

Kara turned to the black board behind her and with precise strokes of white chalk she began writing down key facts about the two Gods. “These two Gods may make up our world, but for the worlds of the elves and humans, Rebirth and their lover, the Goddess of the Harvest had a unique kind of magic that isn’t seen anymore. But taking key points from their ways of life I was able to cultivate my own magic. Earth is the magic of connection, both in the physical plane and in the celestial one too. Cultivated though renewal, and rejuvenation, I can use the gifts of Perseverance and the water that flows through a person and see what was previously impossible to the naked eye. Earth magic has just as deep of roots as the rest of the magics you all possess. Without the guidance of other magics, I would not heal as I am able to. So, to those who wielded fire magic last week, I expect you all to not take your success as an excuse to slack off. Now is the time to push the boundary and create something new.” Her eyes drifted to me as she set her chalk down. A beautiful diagram showing the balance of all three magics crafted in a way that surged pride within my soul.

I turned to look out the window, a single potted plant sat withered on the sill. Its leaves were crisp at the edges and curled in on themselves like they’d given up. Kara’s voice as she continued her lecture droned into the background noise as I reached out to the plant. 

Dragging my fingertips against the dirt, over its brittle stem, dried leaves, I felt a little bad for it. It didn’t stand a chance here. It was the wrong climate, wrong pot, and not enough sunlight. 

Still, I uncapped my bottle of water and carefully watered it. There was no saying it would bring it back to what it once was, but it was nice to try.

With a little tender care, it could grow back.

-

 I carefully braided Odeya’s hair for the ceremony tonight. I had this before. Not in a mirror like this, with pearls and perfume. Not that it was wrong, but the act stirred a memory I couldn’t fully reach. I could almost imagine my little sister excitedly speaking to me. Her soft brown hair would fall into braided strands easily. 

It was a warm passing memory. I could also almost picture Artek as he would comb through my hair. Our hair was symbolic and carried memories with it. Connected us to each other. We only ever cut it after losing loved ones. I had never cut mine. Choosing instead to remember them, let the memories stay, even if they faded over time.

I swallowed past the ache. Here and now, Odeya leaned against me like I had always belonged.

It was enough. Change was inevitable, but that didn’t mean I had to lose the parts of me that existed before the pain.

Graduation from the knight trainee program was upon us. It closes tonight, but with one more class for me next week I felt like I was walking on air. Kara’s words had resounded within me, made me feel seen. Odeya paused her makeup to look up at me in the mirror. A soft smile on her face. “Someone’s really happy.”

I tied off her braid and fluffed the strand, tucking a few pearls in her hair. “Kara’s class has been very eye opening for me. Just proud of who I represent.” I slid the red braid over her shoulder, and she leaned back against my chest.