Lira wandered deeper into the winding lanes of the market, her pace unhurried now. Each stall was its own little world — polished wooden carvings that sang when touched, glowing runes etched into paper-thin stones, hand-forged tools with handles that adjusted to your grip.
She paused to smell a basket of dried sunberries, their sharp-sweet scent tugging at some childhood memory she couldn't quite place. At another table, she watched a pair of students haggling cheerfully with a vendor over the price of a smoke-bloom charm.
Then, through the colorful blur of fabric and motion, a familiar voice called out.
"Lira!"
She turned just in time to catch Maelin's bright grin before the girl practically leapt in front of her, a bundle of copper wire and thin crystal shards in her arms.
"I didn't know you came to the market! Look what I got, perfect for my next forging lesson!" Maelin chirped, holding up a small flat hammer with a spiral design on the head. "The smith down that way gave me a discount because I brought her lunch last week."
Lira laughed softly. "You're everywhere at once."
"That's what they say!" Maelin beamed, clearly proud. "Come on, I'll show you."
But Lira's attention drifted, caught by something just beyond the edge of the main stalls.
In a quiet corner of the market, away from the bustle, sat an old woman at a plain, low table. There was no sign above it, no glowing display or magical shimmer. Only a dozen or so small wooden bowls, each holding a different kind of seed.
No one else stood nearby.
Lira stepped away gently from Maelin's excited gestures. "I'll be right back," she murmured, and made her way toward the quiet table.
The woman looked up with a gentle smile, eyes pale and clouded but kind. "Looking for something to grow?" she asked softly, voice like rustling parchment.
Lira hesitated, then nodded. "Maybe. I help with the greenhouses. I was wondering if… if there's anything new I could try."
The old woman reached under the table and pulled out a smaller box, aged wood, carved with leaves.
"These aren't for everyone," she said. "Some need song to sprout. Some like moonlight. Some only grow if they feel you mean it."
Lira leaned in closer, heart fluttering. She had no idea what half of that meant, but she knew she wanted to try.
Lira's eyes moved across the rows of seeds, tiny ones like dust, others the size of pearls, some with little hairs or shimmering skins. Something about them stirred her, not just the urge to grow something new, but a challenge. A feeling that each seed was a story waiting to unfold.
"I'd like a good pinch of each," she said suddenly, her voice firmer than she expected. "I want to try them all."
The old woman blinked, then smiled slowly, as if recognizing something. "All of them?" she echoed. "That's bold."
"I want to see what I can grow," Lira replied, reaching for her pouch of coins.
The woman nodded and began carefully scooping a little of each seed into folded cloth satchels. As she worked, she spoke softly: "Some of these don't take kindly to the usual tending. They need singing. Others want you to forget them, then remember at the right time. You'll see."
Lira listened, heart humming with excitement.
Just as the last pouch was tied and passed to her, the old woman reached below the table once more and brought up a different item, a single, large seed nestled in dark velvet. It was ridged, pitted, and a dull charcoal gray.
"This one," she said, placing it carefully into Lira's hand, "is special. No one's ever gotten it to sprout. I've been given it back half a dozen times, each with a sigh or a shrug. Some say it's just a stone. Others say it's cursed." She chuckled lightly. "I say it's patient."
Lira studied the seed. It was heavy, strangely warm.
"Why give it to me?"
The woman's gaze settled on her, a glimmer in her cloudy eyes. "Because you're not afraid to try. And maybe," she added with a wink, "it's waiting for someone who doesn't give up."
Lira tucked the velvet-wrapped seed carefully into her satchel with the others. She gave a small bow of thanks, and the old woman waved her off with a smile.
As Lira stepped back into the flow of the market, her steps felt lighter. She had potions to try, essences to sell, and now, seeds to awaken. The greenhouse would be more than just a place of study. It would be her quiet test ground, her own little mystery to unfold.
And she already knew exactly where she'd plant the strange, stubborn seed first.
She turned back towards Maelin and sees her conversing at another table,laughing with the seller.
Maelin's laughter still lingered in the air as Lira pulled out the small cloth pouches brimming with seeds. The sun caught the edges of the wrappings, and Lira's eyes shone as she displayed her prize like a dragon unveiling treasure.
"Look at all these," she whispered excitedly.
Maelin's eyes widened with delight. "Lira, this is amazing! What do you think they'll grow into?"
Lira shrugged, grinning. "That's what I want to find out."
They walked slowly between rows of tables, past glowing stones, silver-etched scrolls, dried herbs, wooden toys, and strange wind chimes that whispered when touched. The air was rich with the scent of roasted nuts and spiced bread. Lira was about to stop at a table of carved bone pendants when her eyes landed on a crooked sign:
MAGICAL ITEMS – written in crooked ink on wood, half-faded and askew.
The table below it was a disaster. Sticks, tangled string, cracked jars, coils of silver wire, bags, glinting stones, and all sorts of strange contraptions cluttered the space in wild disarray. Lira blinked at the mess, unsure if it was even being run by anyone.
Then suddenly, with a loud clatter, a head popped up from behind the piles.
A man, no, more of a whirlwind with hair like thistle and round, oversized glasses that magnified his brown eyes, beamed at them. The lenses made his eyes enormous, bug-like, and for a second Lira froze.
"Ah! A customer!" he shouted, pointing at her as if he had spotted a rare bird. "A special one! I have just the item for you!"
Before she could respond, he vanished again beneath the table with a loud crash, metal clinking and fabric rustling as things were tossed left and right.
Lira and Maelin exchanged a wide-eyed glance. Neither of them dared say a word as the chaotic shuffling continued.
Then, like a triumphant badger, the man popped up again, face glowing with pride, his hand held high like a stage performer.
"Here we go! This is the one!" he declared.
He held up a deep green pouch, embroidered with subtle runes that shimmered when it moved. "It's not just any pouch. This one, ah yes, you can place anything inside it, anything, and it will never grow heavy. No weight, no limit! For a collector of seeds, herbs, stones, books, potions" he waved his hand dramatically "this is perfect!"
Lira stared, the temptation immediate and real. She imagined how useful it would be, carrying potions, plants, tools, books... with no burden.
Maelin leaned in close, her voice cautious and soft. "He's... um... strange, Lira. Maybe ask how it works first. Or if it's cursed."
Lira smiled and nodded slightly, then turned back toward the man. "How much for the pouch?" she asked carefully.
The man rubbed his small goat-like beard with a grin. "Ahhh... not coins, not today. I trade only for things of wonder. I want" he leaned in dramatically, eyes huge behind his glasses, "a special flower from the Foggy Forest."
Lira stiffened slightly.
The man continued, lowering his voice like a storyteller by firelight. "A flower that blooms only on the Blood Moon. It grows on trees hidden deep in the mists, and some say it's guarded by beasts, no one's seen it up close in years. But I know you've been there. People whisper of the girl who got permission to vanish into the fog… And if anyone can bring back that flower, it's you."
Lira's fingers brushed the velvet pouch tucked at her waist, the unmoving, stubborn seed. Her eyes met Maelin's, thoughtful, uncertain.
"What does this flower look like?" she asked at last.
The man clapped his hands in delight. "Crimson petals like falling embers, and a center that glows when moonlight touches it. Smells like the moment before thunder." He gave a delighted spin. "Bring it, and the pouch is yours."
Lira looked down at the pouch in the strange man's hand, then back into his wide, eager eyes. She took a deep breath, already picturing the deep mists of the forest and the strange call of beasts in the distance. The Blood Moon wasn't far off. She nodded slowly.
"I'll be back by the next market day," she said firmly. "If I find the flower… the pouch is mine."
The man grinned wide, as if he'd just made a pact with a wizard. "Excellent! I'll be waiting. One week. Bring the bloom, and the pouch is yours!"
With that, Lira turned and Maelin followed her, both glancing back one more time at the cluttered table and the strange man, who was already vanishing behind his mountain of trinkets once more.
They made their way slowly out of the market square, walking down the main stone path back toward the Academy's wide halls. The sun had shifted, casting long golden shadows through the high-arched windows as they stepped into the familiar calm of the corridors.
At the main hall's wide fork, where one passage led to the greenhouse domes and the other toward the forge rooms, they paused.
Maelin slung her pouch higher on her shoulder and smiled. "Well, seed collector, I'll see you at supper, if you don't vanish into the dirt."
Lira chuckled. "And you, hammer queen, try not to set your sleeve on fire again."
"Once!" Maelin laughed. "It happened once."
They grinned, then gave each other a short, fond wave. Maelin turned toward the forge, the scent of heated metal already thick in the air, while Lira turned down the garden hall, her boots echoing softly against the flagstones.
She had seeds to sort, a strange sprouting mystery to begin… and now a new challenge, the hunt for a flower that only bloomed under a crimson moon, hidden in a forest that few dared enter.