Page 42 of An Arcane Education
My previous experience of working at the nursery allows me to identify most of the plants scattered about, so I grab one I’m familiar with before it can be scooped up. It’s a pink azalea with yellowing leaves that look like they’ve seen better days.
Multiple students cast me side-long glances and move to tables further away from me, and shame threatens toovertake my positive mood.It’s okay, I tell myself.I made a mistake before, and that’s alright. I’ll do better this time. The tapping of the rain against the glass roof provides the white noise I need to focus.
I follow the same process as before, letting my power slowly find the connection with the plant. This time, however, I don’t direct any magic outward. I simply let it simmer inside of me, waiting for the connection to deepen. Just when I begin to doubt that I’m doing this correctly, I’m hit with an inexplicable sense of thirst and an almost bitter taste in my mouth that I inherently understand.
I jot down my observations in my notebook then get to work. In the storage area of the greenhouse, I scan the shelves until I find elemental sulfur powder, scooping some out from the large container with a plastic cup.
Dr. Vale watches me when I return to the main work area, and I smile brightly at him. My newfound confidence, however tentative, feels like a secret between us.
I get to work, sprinkling the sulfur onto the soil in order to lower the pH, as azaleas need more acidic soil, then water it deeply to provide it the moisture it needs and allow the sulfur to soak in. I debate my next action for a few moments before deciding to risk it.
Since the sulfur will take a long time to work on its own, multiple weeks at minimum, I’m certain a little magic can help it along. I’m just not sure if I’ll be able to do it without screwing something up.
Still, I decide to try.
Cupping my hands around the warm terracotta pot, I close my eyes and envision my magic flowing through meas it warms my chest, and I direct the smallest amount I can to my hands. In my mind, I imagine the soil soaking in the sulfur and the roots of the flower drawing up the nutrients ever so slightly to make the plant healthier.
Determined not to test my luck, I gently sever the connection between myself and the plant then open my eyes. It’s still not perfect, but the leaves have darkened enough to be perceptible, and I’m almost sure that the plant will continue to grow stronger over the next week.
Beside me, AJ’s eyes widen. “Are you done already?” he asks with disbelief.
“Umm, I think so.”
“Ugh, lucky. I don’t know why I picked a monstera. These things are finicky as hell, but I always think the leaves look cool. Guess I just have a bad habit of picking the pretty ones.” He glances over at me, winking then letting out a dramatic sigh.
I snort a laugh and roll my eyes. “Whatever. Good luck.” It’s only been a couple weeks of me knowing him, but I’ve managed to learn in that short time that AJ is a shameless flirt with practically everyone. He even winked at Dr. Hagan yesterday after making some double entendre that she (thankfully) missed.
I note all of my observations and corrective actions on the paper I’m required to turn in for the lab, then proudly hand it over to Dr. Vale.
He takes it, scans it, then looks up at the plant before finally looking at me. There’s a gleam of approval in his eyes. “Very well done, Miss Harver. You’re even one of the first to complete the lab, and you knew the correct moment to stop in order to maintain your plant’s naturalhealth,” he adds, and I beam at the praise. “Go ahead and use a piece of tape to label the pot with your name, then leave it on the table. I’ll be checking in on the progress of everyone’s plants.”
“Great, thanks. I’ll do that. Should I stay for anything else?”
“No, you’re good to go.”
“Perfect, thanks. I’ll see you soon.” With that, I leave the greenhouse with a spring in my step, and the satisfaction carries me through the afternoon.
In our Naturalism Spellwork course the next day, AJ and I chat as we spend the second half of class putting theory into application, creating wearable spell jar pendants with minor protective properties. For mine, I layer in mugwort, sage, and a tiny sliver of black tourmaline. Each item on its own signifies protection from negativity or warding off evil. I’m not sure how reliable it might be, considering the number of students rolling their eyes at Professor Hagan’s lecture on spiritual protection from unseen evil beings, and it makes me wonder how much of magic is fact versus fiction.
“She’s an old bat,” AJ whispers at the end of the lecture.
“Is this all just nonsense then?”
“Not entirely. The information about protective herbs and crystals is legitimate enough, but according to my friends who’ve had her before, she’s always going on about how evil is escalating. She might just be one of the few remaining religious nuts.” He had shrugged, and I had left the conversation at that.
It’s interesting to wonder how religion would work inthe context of the magical community, but it feels like too much to care about right now when I have more important things to focus on.
With my newly made pendant around my neck, I drop my bag off in my dorm room before deciding to go for a walk. If I’m going to make a habit of it, I should start on a good day, right?
Plus, the summer is fading, and I should take advantage of the balmy weather. Walking, or hiking, has always been a good way for me to think through things on a higher level, but it had been difficult to make time in Vegas. But here, I have forest paths minutes from my residence hall, and my only responsibility is myself.
It’s still bizarre to have so much time to focus on whatIneed.
I slip on a long-sleeve shirt beneath my jacket, grab my keys, and head back downstairs to walk before my evening mycology class. Fog is rolling in over the island, cloaking everything in a gray mist that seems to dampen both light and sound.
Campus is relatively quiet at this hour, most students either eating dinner or already settled into evening study sessions. I follow the now-familiar path toward the far end of campus, then cross the lawn to the same trailhead I’d taken before.
The moment I step beneath the canopy, the temperature drops several degrees.
