Chapter 2 A Message From Home

Ana's POV

Five Years Later

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous."

I looked up from the flower bed I was tending and found Claire standing a few feet away with her hands on her hips.

"What?"

She pointed at the cluster of bright pink flowers in front of me. "Those weren't blooming last week."

"They are now."

"I can see that, Ana."

I laughed and returned to removing dead leaves from around the plants.

Five years in the human world had taught me how to use public transportation, survive without enchanted household objects, and order food through an app, which I still consider one of humanity's greatest inventions. Most importantly, I learned how to live without magic.

Humans didn't know witches existed, and those of us who chose to live among them weren't allowed to use magic where we could be discovered. For me, that hadn't been much of a sacrifice. I had spent years failing at magic anyway.

Claire crouched beside me. "Mr. Bennett said these haven't produced this many flowers in years."

"Maybe they like me."

"That's what worries me."

I laughed. "You're jealous."

"Of flowers?"

"Of my natural talent."

Claire snorted. "You killed a cactus when you first moved here."

"That happened once."

"You overwatered a cactus."

"I was learning."

"And now everything you touch grows like crazy."

She wasn't entirely wrong. I had started working at the botanical garden three years ago because it was peaceful and, more importantly, hiring. Somewhere along the way, I discovered I was surprisingly good with plants.

Struggling plants recovered under my care, flowers bloomed earlier and lasted longer, and seeds everyone had given up on suddenly sprouted. There were perfectly reasonable explanations for all of it. Water, sunlight, good soil, and patience.

At least, that was what I told myself.

"Ana!"

Claire and I turned as Mr. Bennett hurried toward us.

"Come with me," he said.

"What happened?"

"You need to see something."

Claire immediately stood.

Mr. Bennett frowned. "I said Ana."

"I'm emotionally involved."

He gave her a look but continued walking.

We followed him into one of the greenhouses, where several employees were gathered around an enclosed section. They moved aside when we approached, revealing a plant in the center covered in pale white blossoms.

There had to be more than twenty.

"That's impossible," Claire whispered.

I knew the plant well. I had been caring for it for months.

Mr. Bennett looked at me. "When did you last check it?"

"Yesterday afternoon."

"Any flowers or buds?"

"Nothing."

He stared at the plant. "This specimen has been here for almost eight years. It has never flowered."

"Well, it has now."

His gaze shifted toward me. "After you started caring for it."

I laughed awkwardly. "I don't think it knows who waters it."

Nobody laughed, which was wonderful.

"I want you to write down everything you've been doing," Mr. Bennett said.

"I haven't done anything unusual."

"What about fertilizer, temperature, or watering?"

"Same fertilizer as always, the temperature hasn't changed, and I followed the exact watering schedule you approved."

He frowned and turned back toward the plant while Claire slowly looked at me.

She grinned. "Maybe you're a plant witch."

My body went still before Claire burst out laughing, and I forced myself to join her. "Very funny."

If only she knew I had once spent years desperately trying to become a proper witch and failed so badly that eventually I stopped trying altogether. Whatever was happening with these plants couldn't be magic because I hadn't performed a single spell in five years.

By the time my shift ended, the mysterious flowers had become the garden's favorite topic. I caught the bus home and returned to my small apartment, where plants filled almost every available space. Pots covered the windowsills, vines hung from shelves, and flowers crowded my balcony.

I dropped my bag onto the couch. "Hello, babies."

I paused, then decided talking to plants was probably normal.

My phone buzzed, and a message from Claire appeared.

"We're coming over. I'm bringing food and the orchid. Don't argue."

I laughed.

Less than an hour later, Claire arrived with our friend Sophie, two bags of takeout, and one miserable-looking orchid.

Sophie stopped almost immediately. "Oh, come on. Those weren't flowering last time."

"They are now."

"That's exactly what she said at work," Claire announced.

Sophie walked closer. "How do you do this?"

"Water, sunlight, and love."

Claire placed her orchid on my kitchen counter. "Then love this one."

"It needs a better owner."

Sophie laughed. "I bought the same plant Ana has over there, and mine has grown three leaves in six months."

"Three healthy leaves?"

"That is not the point."

I started unpacking dinner. "You two are just terrible with plants."

"And you're suspiciously good with them," Claire said.

Thankfully, food distracted them, and we spent the next hour talking about work, Sophie's latest terrible date, and Claire's belief that the botanical garden desperately needed a coffee shop.

This was what I loved about the human world. Nobody cared how much magical power I possessed, ranked me, or watched me fail a spell and wondered why I belonged among them. To Claire and Sophie, I was simply Ana, and for five years, that had been enough.

"Are you ever going to tell us where you actually grew up?" Sophie asked.

I nearly dropped my fork while Claire groaned. "Here we go."

"What? She never tells us anything."

"I told you. A small town."

"Where?"

"Far away."

"That's not a location."

"It is if it's far enough."

Sophie narrowed her eyes while I smiled innocently.

They knew Grandmother had raised me and that I had left home when I was young, but they didn't know my hometown couldn't be found on any human map.

A little before ten, they finally left, although Claire abandoned her orchid on my kitchen counter despite my protests.

"Consider it a gift," she said from the doorway.

"It looks half dead."

"Exactly. It needs you."

"You're not getting it back."

"That's fine."

Sophie laughed as she pulled Claire toward the stairs. "Good night, Ana."

"Good night."

I cleaned the table, put the leftovers in the refrigerator, and was carrying the empty takeout containers toward the trash when something tapped against my window.

Tap. Tap.

My gaze moved toward the balcony, where a white dove stood on the railing. For a moment, I simply stared at it before my stomach tightened.

Its feathers shimmered faintly beneath the balcony light, and its eyes were silver.

It wasn't an ordinary dove. It was a messenger from the magical world, and no one had sent one to me in five years.

The dove tapped its beak against the glass again, and I opened the balcony door. It hopped onto the table without hesitation and lifted one leg, revealing a tiny rolled piece of parchment secured with silver thread.

My hands suddenly felt cold.

Nobody from the magical world sent messages this way unless it was important. Grandmother usually called me or sent letters through ordinary human mail simply because she found it amusing.

She never used a messenger dove.

I carefully untied the thread, and the moment the parchment touched my fingers, the silver thread disappeared.

Magic.

I unfolded the note.

Ana,

Come home immediately. Your grandmother passed away peacefully this morning. There are matters concerning the Moonvale Memory Shop and her final wishes that require your presence.

For several seconds, I couldn't move. I read the message again, then once more, but the words didn't change.

Grandmother was gone.

"No."

My knees weakened, and I sank onto the nearest chair.

I had spoken to her yesterday, and she had sounded perfectly fine. She had asked whether I was eating properly, whether I was working too much, and whether I had finally agreed to go on a date with the man Claire kept trying to introduce me to.

I had laughed, and she had laughed too.

Now she was gone.

Tears blurred the parchment as I thought about the one person who had never looked at me and seen a failure. When everyone else saw weakness, Grandmother had insisted there was something about my magic we simply didn't understand yet.

Perhaps ordinary magic isn't what you're meant for.

I pressed my hand over my mouth while the dove remained quietly on the table, waiting. Messenger birds always waited for a response.

I wiped my face and found a pen. My hand trembled as I wrote beneath the message.

I'm coming home.

The words shimmered briefly before the parchment rolled itself and the silver thread reappeared around it. I secured the message to the dove's leg, and seconds later, it flew from my balcony and disappeared into the night.

I remained outside long after it was gone.

For five years, I had built a life here while avoiding the magical capital, the university, and everything that reminded me of who I used to be. I had never seen Theo Silvershade again, and I had kept the promise I made when I first arrived in the human world.

I was never going back.

My gaze moved toward the apartment behind me, filled with plants and flowers that somehow thrived wherever I touched them. Tomorrow, I would leave all of it behind.

I was going home.