Late afternoon sunlight dappled the garden, casting soft shadows between rows of carefully tended plants. Eight-year-old Faline and dark-haired Ravael, a girl a year older, moved slowly along the path, their fingers trailing over leaves and stems as they played their favorite naming game.

“That’s lavender,” Ravael said confidently, pointing to a familiar, purple-flowered plant. “And those are rosemary bushes.”

Faline nodded, her brow furrowing as they approached a plant she didn’t recognize. Its leaves were unusual, curling at the edges like tiny green scrolls. “I know I’ve seen this before,” she muttered, reaching out to touch it. “Is it… rubus? No, that’s not right. Rubeus?”

The moment the word left her lips, the plant’s leaves shifted from a muted green to a vibrant, luminous red. Both girls froze, eyes wide.

“Did you see that?” Faline whispered.

Ravael leaned closer, her hand reaching out to touch a scarlet leaf. “How did you do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s something with the plant?” Faline pointed to a similar plant next to the red one. “Here, you try,” she said.

But when Ravael tried the word herself, nothing changed. The plant remained stubbornly green beneath her fingers.

“Girls!” The sharp voice made them both jump. Faline’s father appeared between the garden rows, his shadow falling across them. “What are you doing?”

Faline turned to him eagerly, pointing to the red plant. “Father, look at this!”

He scratched his head. “That’s Redundus, but it’s done for.”

Faline turned back to the plant. Instead of red and vibrant, it was now a lifeless gray, with withered, dry leaves. She glanced at Ravael, but the girl just shrugged.

“Too bad.” Faline’s father pulled it from the ground with a casual shrug. “Sometimes plants just die,” he said, his gaze already elsewhere. “Ravael, it’s time for you to go home. Faline, fetch a bucket of water from the well.”

After they had gone, Faline found another Redundus plant. Heart racing, she touched it and whispered “Rubeus,” but nothing happened—just ordinary green leaves, unmoving and unchanged. She sighed and left, grabbing the bucket from the cabin.

Returning to the garden later, she found the second plant gray and dead, just like the first. She studied her hands, wondering how she’d done it. All she’d done was touch the plant and say the word. It had been wondrous at first, but now a strange feeling settled in her chest. She had made the plant change color—and then killed it. The smile on her lips disappeared as the realization sank in. This wasn’t anything she wanted to be known for. But Ravael had seen what happened. Would she keep quiet? Faline’s stomach churned with uncertainty. The girl talked—a lot—though she was also known for getting her facts mixed up. Still, the possibility of discovery gnawed at Faline. She could never let something like this happen again.