“I ...” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Isla felt her breathing becoming shallow gasps as panic kicked in. One of the vines twitched again, visibly continuing to grow and move toward her.
Juliette noticed its movement and said, “Ooh, shall we call you Queen of the Creepers? That would be an amazing superhero name—strong, powerful female, adon’t mess with mekind of character.”
“Juliette!” Isla growled, though a hysterical laugh threatened to escape. “This isn’t normal—it’s not evenbotanically possible! This defies every law of plant biology. Get me out of here!”
“Right, yes—of course,” Juliette said, stepping forward and starting to push the vines aside. One of them gave a slow, disgruntled twitch in protest.
“Gosh, Queen of Creepers really would suit you, Isla. These things are showing they have personality. It’s more than a little creepy.”
Groaning, Isla moved, her hair tangled with fine tendrils and petals, the blankets around her half replaced by a shroud of broad leaves and curling stems. As Juliette reached out, Isla grasped her hand, letting herself be pulled from the tangled nest of greenery that had all but swallowed her bed.
Patchy dropped to the floor and Isla snatched it up, stuffing the wooden spoon under her pillow. Her friend eyed her but didn’t say anything.
In the main part of the apartment, where her other plants were thankfully acting naturally, Juliette guided Isla to a seat and set about preparing breakfast with cheerful determination. The kettle was already whistling, and soon the scent of peppermint tea filled the air, warm and soothing. Juliette laid out slices of toast—not burnt—and slathered them generously with butter, and, going all out, she retrieved a precious jar of jam.
“Don’t say I never spoil you,” she said, prying off the lid, despite the fact that Isla owned the jam. It was sweet and sticky, the good stuff—rationed, hard to come by, and guarded like treasure ever since the war began.
“Juliette,” Isla whined through a mouthful of toast, the rationed jam tasting absurdly divine, “I am a judicious, sensible, pragmatic, analytical, and thoroughly practical woman. I havemultiple degrees, I’ve spent my life in the pursuit of knowledge, and I’m one of the few female professors in the country—which, I think, suggests I possesssomelevel of intelligence.”
She set the toast down, her hands tightening slightly around the plate. “But right now, none of that feels like it matters.Everything I thought I knew—about the world, about science, about reality itself—is crumbling. It’s giving me the jitters.”
Juliette nodded serenely, taking a large bite of toast and chewing with deliberate calm.
“Juliette, please,” Isla said, eyes wide. “I need someone to panic with me. You know how misery loves company? Well, apparently so does existential unraveling.”
Laughing, Juliette wiped a spot of jam from her chin. She was younger than Isla—early twenties—and perpetually unfazed by life. Or so it had always seemed. After the glimpse of real fear over her own powers Isla had seen yesterday, she was beginning to wonder how much of Juliette’s sunshine was armor.
“Isla, come on,” Juliette said, nudging her gently. “You need toembracethis—lean into the unknown! You’re already a genius. A real one. Enough brains to make the chaps at Oxford weep. And now you’ve got your Aetheric powers too? Honestly, it’s getting a little unfair.”
“You have powers too, Juliette—pretty incredible ones, from what I saw.”
“Urgh.” Juliette scowled. “I have a tricky relationship with my abilities, but you—” She gestured broadly as if presenting Isla to an invisible audience. “Behold: one of the country’s only female professors, a brilliant botanist, a walking encyclopedia, and apparently, now the Queen of Chlorophyll.” She grinned. “The rest of us mere mortals don’t stand a chance.”
Isla rolled her eyes, but Juliette’s contagious energy made her smile.
“In all seriousness, Isla, this newfound ability, becoming a Terra Summoner, it’s not going to take away from what you already know; it’s only going to add to it.”
“Is that what I’m now called, a Terra Summoner?”
“Well, yes, I mean, your display this morning clearly shows you can do more than just move existing soil and stone, so you’re not a Wielder—as your Sigil mark shows. You were meant to be a Summoner.”
“What can a Terra Summoner do?” Isla asked as she took a sip of her tea.
“Oh, Isla, it’s so exciting.” Juliette was almost dancing in her seat. “You’ll be able to summon plant life, roots, trees—maybe even move terrain, though I have heard that is difficult and takes a lot of mental strength. Minerals and crystals fall under your domain too!”
Isla’s head swam, but she continued to slowly sip her tea as Juliette chatted on, oblivious to her overwhelm.
“Your philosophical abilities will allow you to channel healing as well as decay! You could also inflict illness, but don’t even think about giving me a sore throat when you want me to stop talking so much.”
Isla spluttered on her tea—whether at Juliette’s humor or her casual, conversational way with which she told Isla she had power over vitality and the circle of life, she didn’t know. Maybe both.
Juliette was on a roll now, and though Isla did feel overwhelmed, curiosity edged out her hesitation, so she let Juliette continue uninterrupted.
“And to think—your Sigil mark shows you’re Fated too. Isla, you could have it all!”
That piqued Isla’s curiosity even further, especially after hearing Andrew mention it last night.
“First of all, what does that even mean?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow. “And secondly, do you mean‘too’ as in—in addition toall the other ...stuffI can now apparently do”—stuff ...a very academic, intelligent term, she noted wryly to herself, to encompass her ability to summon all things nature—Well done, Isla—“or do you mean‘too’ as in,you’re also ...” She trailed off, waving her hands vaguely in the air like a dramatist brandishing a magic wand. “... Fated?”
