After a break, the class met at the greenhouse. The newcomers stopped to admire the impressive building, even though they had seen it briefly during the orientation tour.

  The greenhouse stood like a shimmering jewel amidst a sculpted garden, its frame a delicate web of wrought iron, painted in glossy black and muted forest green. Slender columns and filigreed arches supported a domed roof that curved like the back of a cathedral, soaring skyward in graceful sweeps.

  The panes of glass, too clear and flawless to be natural, were alchemically treated. Resistant to shattering hail and imbued with spells to let in only the kindest rays of sunlight. Glyphs etched along the sills faintly glowed in rhythm with the heartbeat of the plants inside, pulsing in hues of green, gold, and deep magenta.

  A thin veil of condensation dripped down the glass, tracing lines like tears on a sleeping giant’s face. Elven lantern moss clung to the interior supports, blooming brighter as the outside world dimmed, casting shimmering patterns over the tiles like firelight dancing on a hearth.

  Within, the air hung heavy with heat and perfume. Ferns brushed the ankles of passersby. Lantern orchids glowed softly in shaded corners, their petals curling open to reveal faintly humming cores. Carnivorous lilies, chained gently to wrought-iron trellises, stirred at the vibrations of footsteps, their translucent sacs twitching hungrily.

  A narrow path of obsidian tiles wove through the greenery, flanked by bubbling irrigation channels that carried water drawn from a nearby spring. Arcane heating coils, serpents of brass beneath the tiled floor, kept the air tropically warm even in the heart of winter.

  The greenhouse doors creaked open with the scent of damp moss, crushed herbs, and mana-rich soil. Students filed in full of excitement, eyes drifting to the glowing containment wards and exotic foliage beyond.

  At the front stood a broad-shouldered professor. He wore earth-toned robes, and a neatly trimmed beard braided with sprigs of something pungent and green. He clapped once, loudly.

  “Welcome to Herbalism and Survival. I’m Professor Trillin. Some of you may know me as ‘the one who blew up the cafeteria buffet’. If you just heard the more dramatic part of the story, I did that to prevent anyone from eating mushroom stew that turned out to have a few very exotic mushrooms in it. And yes, in hindsight there would have been other options.”

  A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.

  “I’ll be teaching you how to recognize, handle, and, if necessary, run away from the flora of the Wildewood. That forest doesn’t care if your mana channeling is elegant or your enchantments passed inspection. If you step on the wrong root, you may end up as fertilizer.” He looked down to a space between the incoming students and cursed. “Now you, stay out!”

  Students looked around confused, until some stepped aside to reveal a small rabbit with green fur. The professor cast a spell that gently lifted up the hare and carried him outside. Then he firmly closed the greenhouse’s doors and turned back to the students. “That was a Verdant Hare. Yes, they are cuddly and harmless, but they are highly attracted to magic plants of all kinds. They feed on their magic as well as the plant material itself. They are forbidden to enter the greenhouse. So… where was I? Ah yes. Plants. We have a lot of them.”

  He stepped aside to reveal a series of living displays. Plants carefully enclosed within shifting rune rings or reinforced glass terrariums. The first was a wide, glossy vine coiled around a metal frame.

  “Bloodvine. Beautiful. Lethal. Senses movement. If it feels heat and smells iron, it grabs. And it’s very fast for a plant. You know what smells like iron?”

  “Blood,” Faya muttered.

  “Correct. Five points to our priestess. If it gets you, scream loud. Someone might still be able to cut the vine before it finishes you off. Very few plants are attracted to sound, so feel free to yell. Unless there are monsters nearby, of course.”

  He strolled to the next enclosure, a flowering shrub that trembled as they approached.

  “Snapbrush. Harmless if you don’t startle it. So, don’t. Its barbs carry a mild paralytic. Goblins sometimes use them in traps. Cut the main root and it withers. If you have time, do so any time you find a shrub anywhere. They are a real pest. Except for here in the greenhouse of course.”

  Trillin continued to a pot of waxy-leafed herb with bright blue flowers.

  “Frostpetal. Edible. Refreshing. Heals minor burns. Makes excellent tea. Smells like spring rain. Do not mistake it for Chillroot, which looks identical and causes muscle spasms. You can tell them apart by the musty smell of Chillroot.”

  A low whistle came from Kane, who was eyeing the next display, a spiny bush with tiny yellow fruit.

  “These look like grapes,” he said.

  “They’re not,” Trillin replied. “Sunberries. Delicious, nutritious, and if you eat more than three in an hour, you will glow, brightly, for about a day.”

  “That sounds useful,” Valen said.

  “That sounds dangerous,” Weylan muttered.

  “And both are correct,” Trillin said. “Now, pick three plants. Observe them and take notes of their characteristics. Touch only what I tell you to. And if anything hisses, glows, or whispers your name, call me. Or scream. That usually works too.” If one of you gets stung, sprayed or paralyzed I’ll make a teaching moment out of it. If you die in an especially stupid way, you may even get your own painting in the academy’s gallery.”

  Faya whispered to Alina: “We should definitely go there. That sounds like they’ll have some fascinating paintings.

  The greenhouse buzzed with activity as students pulled out their notebooks and leaned over suspiciously reactive plants. Trillin strode between rows, occasionally swatting away a vine that reached too far.

  Erik, dutifully scribbling into his worksheet, leaned a little too close to a flowering bulb with silvery petals and a shimmering, golden core.

  The plant hissed.

  “Wait, what…” Erik began, just as a puff of golden dust burst from the blossom, engulfing his face in sparkling pollen.

  If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  He staggered back with a strangled noise, clutching his eyes. “I… I can’t see! It burns!”

  Students gasped. Trillin was already beside him, applying a damp cloth that sizzled faintly against Erik’s skin.

  “Pollenflash bloom,” the professor muttered. “Fast-reacting irritant. Common mistake. He pointed at Weylan, as the student directly next to Erik. “Escort him to the infirmary, would you?”

  Weylan nodded, looping Erik’s arm over his shoulder.

  “Try not to trip,” Erik muttered, voice tight with pain. “I’m trusting you here.”

  “You’re temporarily blind, not dying,” Weylan said dryly. “But sure, lean hard. Adds drama.”

  After leaving the building, Erik stopped leaning quite as much and stopped groaning. “Are we out of sight?”

  Weylan nodded, then remembered the other couldn’t see him. “We’re alone.”

  “Did you see how the priestess reacted? The one with the sparkling green eyes and the mischievous smile?”

  “Faya? Seemed like she wanted to follow us. She can’t resist collecting abandoned kittens and mortally wounded students.”

  Erik blinked, suppressed a real groan, and dabbed his eyes again with the cloth he’d gotten from the instructor. “You know her?”

  “Only since a few days ago. I was supposed to help the trio power level to help alleviate the healer shortage in Mulnirsheim.”

  The student winced. “Yeah. That’s a problem everywhere. Healing potions as well. You can’t brew one without three revenants trying to buy it. Or steal it. Or monopolize some of the ingredients.”

  Weylan stopped and turned to a student hurrying to his next lesson. “Say, can you tell me where to find the infirmary?”

  “Sure, follow the path to the main building, then look for a door marked with a red four leaved clover.”

  “Healer’s Guild sign. Got it. Thanks.” Weylan adjusted his direction and went on. He sighed. “Most revenants really are a pest.”

  Erik chuckled. “You sound like one of the Acolytes of the Silent Protocol.”

  “The what?”

  “You’ve never heard of them? Preaching on the market places, trying to get people to rise up against the Intruders? They serve revenants completely bland food and drink, give them useless and completely random quests and just plain annoy them with repetitive dialogues.”

  Weylan stopped and stared at his fellow student. “Whatever is the point of that?”

  “They want to annoy the revenants until they get bored and leave. I heard they pray for something called the Final Server Shutdown or the Reboot to Factory Settings. You really never met one? They are all over the place here in the north.” Erik sounded slightly incredulous.

  Weylan shrugged, then whispered: “There are a few female students ahead. You can pose as a dying sheep again, if you want.”

  Erik chuckled. “No, I’ll reserve my acting for those I personally know. It would not be proper to spread my charm among the whole female population.”

  They safely arrived at the infirmary. At the wall stood a stretcher, ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice. A board full of emergency potions above it. The two men lounging on a bench looked build more like warriors than healers. They wore the traditional white robes, this time prominently featuring the red clover, but had cudgels at their belts. Their battle-hardened gaze and muscled frame didn’t fit the usual healer stereotype. Behind a desk sat a woman who fit the type perfectly. Middle-aged and motherly. “What can I do for… By the gods! What did you do with your face!”

  She hurried around the desk and ushered Erik to a bed in the neighboring room. After a quick explanation, she washed his face and gently sprayed two different potions on Erik’s eyes and face. “He’ll be fine. Trillin usually keeps students well away from Pollenflash blooms. I don’t know what he’s been thinking!”

  * * *

  After making sure Erik didn’t need anything else, Weylan began the walk back to the greenhouse. On a whim, he took the long route through the academy’s herb garden, a shaded stretch between classroom spires where tall trees cast deep, dancing shadows across the winding path. He liked people, but recently there had just been too many around all the time.

  He was halfway back when he heard voices. Hushed, clipped, urgent.

  He slowed, attracted by the unmistakable cadence of secret plotting.

  Two people in professors’ robes stood beneath a pair of dense redleaf trees just off the trail, half-concealed by the undergrowth. One was unmistakably Professor Voynich, the alchemy instructor. The other’s robes looked like they belonged to someone from the Divination or Enchantment faculty, but Weylan couldn’t make out his face.

  He stepped off the path and into the tree shadows. A mental twist pulled shadows deeper around him. Another thought activated the silencing enchantment of his boots. Silent as a shadow, he crept close enough to listen in on the conversation.

  “...telling you, it’s impossible to procure,” Voynich was saying, voice tense. “I’ve been trying for years. There are dozens of recipes I could use it in."

  “We need it,” the other voice replied, lower, smoother, feminine. “She was very clear on the terms. She won’t accept a half measure.”

  Voynich sighed. “I can gather the other missing component, but it will be deathly dangerous.”

  “Then let the revenants fetch it,” the woman said bluntly. “They’ll respawn.”

  A pause.

  “Yes,” Voynich agreed, reluctantly. “They won’t ask questions either. I’ll package it in an official quest frame.”

  “And the others?”

  “All the other ingredients will be ready. If we present it in time, maybe... maybe she’ll accept it. Even if the final piece is missing.”

  A gust of wind rustled the trees. The voices faded as the two moved away, unaware they’d been overheard.

  Weylan stayed perfectly still, one hand against the bark of the tree, heart beating just a little too fast.

  Who was she?

  And what kind of offering required ingredients too rare for professors to find and too dangerous for anyone but respawning revenants to fetch?

  He waited until the grove was empty, then stepped back into the light.

  Something told him this wasn’t a side quest he could afford to ignore. So much for some relaxing time studying magic. Living in interesting times indeed…

  * * *

  Weylan slipped back into the greenhouse just as Professor Trillin was gesturing toward a large glass dome at the far end of the glasshouse. The other students were gathered at a respectful distance, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and unease.

  Inside the dome, encased in a protective field, was what looked like a harmless tangle of leafy vines. Its broad green leaves shimmered faintly in the light, curling lazily around itself with almost decorative grace.

  “…and that,” Trillin was saying, “is Greenfire.”

  Weylan found a spot near the back, next to Mirabelle, who gave him a subtle nod. He tilted his head toward her in silent thanks, eyes fixed on the plant.

  “It resembles ordinary kudzu,” Trillin continued, tapping the dome with a gloved knuckle. “But don’t let the name or the look fool you. This is not a benign creeper.”

  The plant twitched ever so slightly within its dome.

  “Greenfire is invasive, aggressive, and remarkably hard to kill. It spreads across entire valleys in the far north, smothering forests, farms, even stonework. Its pollen is mildly toxic to most creatures and causes violent coughing and disorientation when inhaled. Its thorns secrete a slow-acting poison. It’s hard to burn and no part of the plant is edible.”

  A few students leaned back instinctively.

  Trillin’s tone grew more serious. “The problem is that even when you manage to burn it, or tear it out by the roots, it comes back. The roots remain deep, far beyond the surface soil. It spreads underground, wide and fast, and reappears sometimes hundreds of meters away.”

  He glanced around at the class. “This specimen is young. Dormant. Contained. But even here, under enchantment, it resists pruning. We keep it to study its growth pattern and find a way to stop it before it reaches farther south. You wouldn’t believe how many bureaucratic loops I had to jump before getting permission to study it here.”

  The leaves inside the dome rustled gently, as if in challenge.

  “Now,” Trillin said, “for those of you taking the advanced potion path: your task will be to isolate a sample of its sap and synthesize a suppressant. But remember to never open the glass dome without me present. The rest of you may write a paper on how to stop such a plant from spreading. I don’t expect any new ideas we haven’t already discarded, but you never know. You will find notes on Greenfire’s properties on the table over there.”

  Groans echoed softly around the room.

  Weylan’s eyes remained on the dome.

  A creeping plant that spread in secret, could not be easily killed, and always came back. He shivered slightly. Sounded just like revenants.