Born as a Witch Chapter 48: Old Memories

Lira reached out, fingertips grazing one of the glowing leaves. The mont her skin touched it, the world cracked like glass.

Sound vanished. Light folded inward. The grove was gone.

She stood in the middle of a small, sunlit village, stone paths weaving between cottages covered in ivy and flowers.

Everything glowed with soft, golden light. The air was thick with birdsong and the scent of sweetroot blossoms.

But she wasn’t Lira. Not exactly.

She looked down, smaller hands, wearing simple linen clothes. Her hair was longer, darker, braided with tiny wildflowers. Around her neck hung a polished wooden bead carved with a sigil she couldn’t quite rember learning... yet it felt familiar.

Children laughed nearby. Elves. Tall, with long silver hair and almond eyes. One of them, a kind-faced woman with moss-green robes, bent down beside her and smiled.

"You rembered the nas again, didn’t you?" the woman said gently, offering her a bundle of herbs. "Tell what these are, little one."

She held the herbs, her mouth moving before thought could catch up.

"Starseed for healing wounds. Lightroot for clarity in dreams. Widow’s Frill for grounding after loss."

The woman nodded approvingly. "And their song?"

Lira or the girl she was, closed her eyes.

She heard it.

A chorus, low and warm, like the earth humming. The herbs vibrated in her hands, alive, singing their essence to her. Not in words. In knowing.

"Yes," the elf whispered. "That’s why the plants listen to you. You don’t ask them. You rember them."

The vision jumped, suddenly she was older, maybe thirteen. She stood before a tall, ancient gate, carved with swirling glyphs. Other children stood with her, so half-elves, so human, so with glowing eyes or shimring auras.

The School for the Gifted.

As the gates opened, Lira felt a surge of emotion, joy, pride... belonging. She walked into that place not as a stranger, but as soone ant to be there.

Flash - the classroom, glowing glyphs dancing in the air as she chanted spells. Flash - a greenhouse filled with rare, sentient plants reaching toward her with open leaves. Flash - a mont of courage, standing before a council of elders, explaining how the plants had warned her of an illness before it spread through the village.

And then...

She stood at the center of the school garden, arms outstretched, plants blooming in spirals around her feet. Students and teachers alike watching, awed. The headmistress speaking words Lira could barely hear, but she caught one phrase:

"The Flower-Speaker has returned."

With a gasp, Lira pulled her hand back.

She was back in the grove. Renkai was watching her carefully, eyes serious now.

"What did you see?" he asked.

She was trembling, heart pounding. "I was soone else. A girl. An orphan. The elves raised . They taught to listen to plants... and I went to a school. Like this one, but... older. Deeper."

"A past life?" he asked softly.

She nodded. "It felt like . Like the part I’ve been missing."

"And the na?" Renkai asked.

Lira paused, her eyes wide, then slowly smiled as it ca to her.

"Elaris."

Lira’s breath still ca in soft gasps as she returned to the present. The vision’s warmth lingered on her skin like sunlight, and the na still echoed in her mind like a song only she could hear.

Renkai was watching her, not with curiosity, but with sothing else. Sothing deeper. His eyes shimred, emotion flickering through them like wind through tall grass.

Then, just as quickly, he blinked it away and turned slightly, his voice soft as the breeze.

"Elaris," he said, almost to himself. "She was... amazing."

Lira’s heart fluttered at the na, her na, though it belonged to another ti. Another self. She wasn’t sure what it ant, only that it made her feel whole in a way she hadn’t known she was missing.

Then Renkai turned back to her. His eyes t hers with quiet certainty.

"You shall be too," he said gently. "You are."

Lira blinked, unsure whether to believe him. "? How?" she whispered. "I’m... shy. I can’t speak up like others. My gifts are soft things like herbs, dreams, little whispers. I can’t even protect myself..."

Without a word, Renkai stepped closer. His hand reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear.

The touch was warm, grounding.

"You will always be protected by your own elent," he said. "Even if you don’t know it yet."

His hand lingered just a mont longer before falling back to his side.

"You are strong, Lira," he said, his voice low but unwavering. "Not because you fight. But because you feel. Because you listen. And because the earth rembers you, even when you forget yourself."

Lira’s eyes brimd with sothing too big to na, wonder, fear, maybe even hope. She didn’t speak. She only nodded, the smallest movent, but filled with sothing stirring deep within her.

Sothing waking.

And the grove, silent as it was, seed to hum in quiet agreent.

As they stood in the quiet, the air suddenly shifted, a gentle hum vibrated beneath their feet. The great tree behind them began to glow, its bark bathed in a soft, ethereal green light. The veins of its ancient trunk pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat, alive and aware.

Both Lira and Renkai turned to watch in silence. The glow deepened for a mont, then faded like breath into mist.

Lira’s eyes widened. "What was that?"

Renkai didn’t seem surprised. If anything, his calm deepened, as if he had been expecting it.

He folded his hands behind his back and spoke quietly. "Whenever you bring a special plant to this grove, it connects to the great spirit tree. They enter into symbiosis, becoming part of one living network."

He stepped closer to the tree, placing a respectful hand on its trunk. "The herbs you laid on the table... they’ve been accepted. From now on, their essence will be available to you here. It’s like having your own sacred garden. The more you bring, the more you offer with care, the more the grove gives you in return."

Lira stepped slowly toward the table where her bundle of herbs now rested, as if glowing from within. They hadn’t changed, and yet they felt... fuller. Stronger. Alive.

Renkai turned back to her. "No one else can enter this place, not now. It is bound to you. A safe place for your growth."

He paused, then looked beyond the grove, his eyes distant for a mont. "The world is wide, Lira. Beautiful, yes, but danger can lurk in corners we do not yet see. This grove will protect you while you learn. While you beco."

Lira rested a hand gently over her heart, still trying to hold all the emotions blooming inside her. Gratitude. Curiosity. A flicker of power she hadn’t known was hers.

She looked up at the tree, its vast canopy stretching above her like sheltering arms. It felt like a ho she hadn’t known she was missing.

"Thank you," she whispered, not just to Renkai, but to the grove itself.

And sowhere beneath her feet, the earth answered in silence, a promise.

Lira slowly stepped toward the stone table nestled under the branches of the great spirit tree. The air around it shimred slightly, like a veil of warm wind brushing through leaves. Her fingers reached out with reverence.

Among the familiar herbs she had brought, sothing new rested there. A slender, silvery-green plant with softly glowing tips. She blinked, she hadn’t placed this here.

Her hand hovered over it, then gently made contact. The mont her skin brushed its leaves, a current stirred within her. Her breath caught.

A vision, just a flicker, passed through her mind. A village with curved rooftops nestled in tall trees. Laughter. Soft elven voices. A little girl with her face, but not her na, running barefoot through moss. She held hands with an elder who smiled with ancient eyes, pointing at flowering herbs and whispering their nas in the language of leaves.

Lira blinked, the sensation gone as quickly as it ca.

Behind her, Renkai had settled quietly against the massive tree trunk, his long fra half reclining, half seated. His eyes were nearly closed, arms folded, as if letting the energy of the grove seep into his bones.

Lira turned her gaze back to the strange herb, heart still tingling. She could feel its power clearly now. It held mory, ancient mory. In special preparations, she sensed, it could help one recall past lives. Forgotten selves. But the thod to use it... it was beyond her skill.

She gently set it back in its place, her fingers lingering for just a mont longer.

"I need to learn more," she whispered to herself, and her voice did not echo. The grove had listened.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself, then reached for her pouch. It felt warm in her hands, the one Renkai had given he, and opened easily under her touch.

She pulled out ingredients with care, selecting them one by one with instinct and grace, laying them out like small treasures.

Then she began.

Hours passed quietly, with only the soft clinking of glass, the bubbling of her small distiller, and the occasional rustle of leaves overhead. She poured essences drop by drop into vials, corked potions, ground dried petals into powder, and folded each finished bottle into the pouch again, which seed never to grow full.

The work soothed her. Her hands rembered what her thoughts often doubted, that she belonged to this magic.

Behind her, Renkai remained still, resting in the tree’s embrace. A faint smile played on his lips as if he could feel her blooming from within.

And the grove, alive and aware, watched over them both.