In which Grandma Luna meets a nymph and summons a demon.

When you have a wonderful magical garden and a seemingly endless supply of flowers, opening up a flower shop is a wise investment indeed--ask anyone in Frostspire, and they'll tell you the same.

Folk from the neighbouring villages and towns came to see how this newcomer lady made this supposedly haunted garden her home, and they purchased flowers on their way back, for there was none who could resist their alluring beauty. Young brides wanted crowns made of her flowers, and there were rumours saying professing love with a rose from her shop would bind lovers for many lives. There were gardeners looking to buy seeds and rare plants they couldn't find anywhere else, and there were herbalists who wanted to replenish their stock--Luna made it a separate business to sell these alone, for there was quite a demand.

At first she had nothing but a tiny, open shed in the garden to display her wares, but within a couple of years, she had earned enough to shift all the things to the ground floor of the cottage and build a proper storefront.

Alvar, despite all his enthusiasm to learn her craft, shied away from the shop whenever there was a crowd of customers. He seemed far more interested in pulling out weeds and watering the roses, all the while hidden under a straw hat that was much too huge for him, even if he'd grown bigger now.

Luna did not mind. There was plenty of time, and he was only a boy. She was sure he would learn everything in due time.

Her daughter Elena wrote to her often. Homebound now, she'd taken up residence in a port town where she'd struck an agreement with a caravan guard captain to escort her up to Greenwater. The North Wind, the trading galley she sailed upon was gathering up crew for another voyage, but she had decided to come home instead. Luna spent every day in anticipation, wondering when the next letter would arrive.

All seemed to be going well, until one afternoon.

Ruth stumbled through the gate, looking disheveled, just as Luna was getting ready to close for the day. One look was enough to tell that something was not right with her friend.

"Whatever's the matter with you?" she asked. "You look miserable!"

Ruth put her trembling hands on the counter, steadying them with an effort.

"Those books of yours...they say anything about diseases? Are there any spells that might cure the..." She dropped her voice down to a whisper. "Rust Plague?"

Luna was cold all of sudden, though it was a warm summer afternoon. "Why? Is someone ill?"

"Shhh! Not so loud!" Ruth looked over her shoulder. "Everyone knows about what happened in Eastmoor. I don't want to cause a panic."

"Well, you're frightening me enough as it is!" said Luna. "Tell me what's happened. Who--"

Ruth sighed. "It's Jamie."

The girl was burning up, muttering incoherently in a fitful sleep. Luna clasped her wrist and felt for the pulse. It was feeble, yet very fast. Jamie was terribly ill, no doubt, but there were no red-brown marks on her skin, which assured her a little.

"It's not Rust Plague, as far as I'm aware," said Luna, pulling away and drawing the blanket right up to her chin.

"Even so, the fever has stayed the same for days," said Ruth.

Luna looked at Jamie for a long moment. She looked so frail already, her breathing laboured and skin pale and clammy.

She thought she knew what had to be done.

"I've tried everything. Even your remedies. The ones you taught me," Ruth continued, "and--"

"There's no time for home remedies. This is serious." She took her cloak from the back of the chair and tossed it over her shoulder. "I'll be back."

"Take care of her till then. See if you can get her to eat a little something when she wakes up. A bit of soup would do nicely," she added, rushing out of the room.

Ruth followed her down the stairs. "Where--where are you going?"

"Why, to find a cure, of course. You were right. The books do have a thing or two to say about curing diseases."

All around her, the forest murmured. The molten gold sunrays of summer afternoon streamed through the leaves, dragging long black shadows at her feet.

Soon, it would be dark, but Luna had come prepared. She had her oil lamp with her, and a magnifying glass, and she would search all night. It didn't matter, as long as she could save Ruth's daughter. Each time she thought of the poor girl, all sickly and pale, it was her own Filip's face flashing before her eyes, dying helpless behind a locked door, refusing all aid because he thought he was doomed.

This almost felt like a second chance, a chance to make everything right.

She raked through the shrubbery with a frantic urgency, pulling out plants and tossing them away in frustration when she could not find what she was looking for. She reached into her satchel and took out the old book for the umpteenth time, flipping to the page that showed the sapling growing from a golden seed.

Ursanthus, or the 'witch's apple', it read. It was an invaluable plant, and its healing properties were unparalleled. The extract of its leaves was essentially life-giving.

She muttered the words and looked at the picture for a long moment, trying to burn it into memory so well she would recognise it anywhere in the vast forest.

She went off the main trail and wandered into the deeper parts of the forest, into glades where the air was redolent with the scent of summer blooms and crossed little streams that came leaping down from the mountains.

But she did not find it anywhere.

According to the book, the local soil and climate was perfect to support its growth, but the plant was nowhere to be seen. It was strange, because she had no trouble finding the other plants the book mentioned.

When dusk fell, Luna lit the lamp and continued her search, half-knowing it would be in vain. After a while, she had to go back, remembering she'd left Alvar alone back at home and she needed to make supper.

The next day, she came back early in the morning, when not even the blacksmith's noisy rooster had woken yet. In the forest, a cold wind blew, and grey mist flowed through the trees like a ghostly river. A sprinkle of stars shone dimly in the lightening sky overhead.

In the midst of the vast, pale stillness, a sharp cry of a bird cut through the silence. Luna stood up straight, startled by the sound. Loud flapping of wings now joined the cries.

Curious, she followed the sound. It was not easy, for it seemed the sound was coming from everywhere at once, and the mist was so thick she could not see more than a few feet ahead. She nearly tripped over a stone once, and next, she ended up wading through a stream, getting soaked up to her knees.

Then at last, she found where the cries were coming from. The sounds came from under a tree.

A baby robin, no more than a hatchling, had fallen from its nest. The parents flew about helplessly.

"Poor little thing..."

Luna knelt and took the little bird gently in her palms. It had bulbous eyes, a gaping beak, with only a few wisps of feather on its bald head.

Thankfully, the pile of leaves under the tree had cushioned the fall and it was unharmed. She sighed in relief.

She put the baby bird back in the nest with the rest of the hatchlings.

"There you go," she said. "I think it's a bit too early to teach them how to fly."

The parents returned, uttering loud chirps and much too busy fussing over the chicks to pay her any attention.

Smiling to herself, Luna took her leave and resumed her search for the healing plant.

The fog lifted and soon enough, warm sunlight beamed through the canopy of leaves overhead. The morning dew rolled off tall grasses and birds chirped in chorus to welcome a new day.

All that ought to put anyone in a good mood, but such was not the case for Luna, whose search for the ursanthus plant proved fruitless. Even in the broad daylight, with her sight clearer than ever, the plant was nowhere to be found.

But she was not one to give up easily. She looked all day and came back the next day, though she was tired and ached all over from wandering endlessly around the forest.

"Third time's a charm," she said to herself as she set to her search once more--in vain.

Perhaps luck was not on her side.

At long last, equal parts exhausted and frustrated, she made her way to the big lake in the deepest part of the forest. There, the air was cool and pleasant, and sitting by the water, watching the wind draw ripples across the surface was enough to ease all weariness off one's limbs.

Luna put down her satchel, undid her cloak and laid it across a flat rock on the lakeshore and sat down.

Leaves fell from above, blown away by the wind. She picked one up and made a little boat. She lowered it into the water and watched it set sail.

The boat made it all the way to the centre of the lake, where it vanished abruptly, as though pulled under the surface.

Luna frowned. She made another, and tossed it away.

This time, it sank much quicker. A pale hand leapt out of the water to seize the little leaf boat.

Alarmed, she got to her feet and backed away from the water--as any sensible folk would do. But the mischief-maker now decided to emerge from the water and greet her face to face.

An ethereal young woman raised her head from the water, watching her with a curious gaze. A bright gold circlet adorned her head, and her eyes were like onyx. Her mane of long dark hair floated behind her.

A water nymph. A spirit of the forest.

"Hello there, stranger," she said, in a voice like honey. "There is no need to be alarmed. Sit here and rest awhile."

Luna relaxed and sat back down. She knew their kind. They were good company, though they were a bit enigmatic and often spoke in riddles.

"I cannot really afford to rest until I find what I seek," she told her.

"Ah, you're on a quest then."

She smiled tiredly. "Of a sort."

The nymph swam closer to the shore. "I have not seen you around these parts. What is your name?"

"Luna," she said. "May I have the honour of knowing yours?"

The nymph drifted closer, right at the bottom of the rock where Luna sat, and leaned her arms against it. She was bare, not a single thread to clothe her limbs, but the very air about her was redolent with an ancient power only the ageless spirits of the forest possessed.

"I am named Ilaira," she said, looking deep into her eyes. Her dark eyes were like a starless sky and held the depth of the bottomless sea. It took quite a bit of effort to hold gazes with creatures such as she.

"I know what you seek here, Luna," she said at length.

Luna was only a little surprised, for such creatures know a great deal more than meets the eye. "How so?"

The nymph let out a soft laugh. She looked up and motioned with her hand. A robin circled around her and landed on her shoulder.

"I have my ways of knowing things," she said.

"Then please tell me," said Luna. "Where do I find this plant? My friend's daughter is ill--she doesn't have much time!"

"You won't find it by looking around in the forest," said the nymph solemnly. "Ursanthus plants do not grow freely in nature."

Just as all hope began to drain from her heart, Illaira added: "but their seeds may be bestowed upon a person deemed worthy by the guardians of the forest."

"Can you give me one? Just one is all I ask." Luna stumbled down from the rock and went on her knees, hands clasped in prayer. "Tell me. How do I prove my worth?"

The nymph looked at her for a long moment and smiled.

"You already have." 

Ilaira put her hands around Luna's. Her touch was so very gentle, and soothingly cold. "You have been pursuing your quest for days, heedless of the pain and exhaustion it brings you. You've searched and searched for this wonderous plant, not for personal gain, but in hopes that it may ease the suffering of a poor soul. Well, my friend, here is where you reach the end of your search."

She placed a single seed into her palm. It shimmered bright gold, oozing with raw power waiting to be unleashed.

Then, she said a few words in a whisper that seemed to ring in Luna's ears long after the nymph had vanished under the water with an elegant dive.

"Cleanse the soil before you sow the seed. Be just and wise when you put it to use. That which heals can kill as well."

Upon returning home, when the enchanted feeling of encountering a mystical being had worn off, Luna ran into a different kind of trouble, one that she had not anticipated at all when she embarked upon the search.

It would take a long time for the seed to grow into a plant. It could take days and weeks.

Jamie did not have that much time. Her condition was worsening, and she kept drifting in and out of a febrile stupor.

Luna cleansed the soil as the nymph told her, sowed the seed, and paced around the garden, thinking. But thinking alone hardly ever made a seed shoot out leaves. She needed to find a way to speed up the process somehow. She wanted results that were instantaneous.

She stopped in front of the waste pit in one corner of the garden. Fallen leaves, scraps of food and vegetable peels from the kitchen, twigs and branches sat rotting there in a huge pile. It would make a fine fertilizer in a few months.

An idea occurred to Luna, but she was not too fond of it.

"But I don't have any other choice, do I?" said she.

She did not open up shop that day, and hung a 'closed' sign on the front gate. After lunch, she sent Alvar off to play with Sigrid and the other children. She made a quick round about the neighbourhood and made sure no one was around. Then at last, she put her plan in motion.

She gathered the things she needed-- a bunch of candles, a bowl of salt, ritual chalk-- and a particular book she'd found among the others in the attic and kept securely hidden beneath a loose floorboard.

While the other books were harmless manuals that dealt with gardening magic, various plants and flowers and where to find them, this one was a proper grimoire. It was huge in size and a thick leather belt held it shut. There were countless spells in there. Luna could not try them all, even if she performed a new one everyday. So she'd read the whole thing and chose only a handful that seemed most relevant to her trade.

She laid the book on the grass and flipped to the chapter about demons.

Summoning a demon in a populated area always came with some risks, for they could get away and cause mischief, as demons are wont to do. But Luna had devised a special way to do it, so it would bind them in one place.

Once the magic circle was finished, the candles lit, the stinking pile of rubbish chosen as an offering, Luna read the incantations from the book, loud and clear. By that time, dusk was nigh and the sun dipped low behind the treetops.

At first, nothing happened.

Then, a gust of cold wind shook the candle flames. They shivered and they flickered. The wicks gave off tendrils of smoke, which rose and coiled and darkened to black.

The black, roiling mass seemed to solidify, growing a pair of twisted horns and a set of red gleaming eyes on a broad, snarling face. At last, the hulking figure stood towering before her.

He was named Thoros. The demon of rot.

Baring a row of white teeth in a mockery of a smile, he looked around himself at the glyphs drawn on the ground.

"A new summoner, yet the same old ropes to bind me," he said. "Some things never change, eh?"

Luna closed the grimoire with a snap and stood up. "Indeed. I know for certain that you'll break free and run around all over the place the moment I take these off."

"And so what if I do? You folk need to loosen up." Thoros stretched his arms and yawned. "So, what will you have me do, granny?"

She was a bit taken aback. "Getting straight to business already?"

Thoros tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"Well--it's just that I expected a little more...resistance. Thrashing around and howling and all that."

"Oh, I have been through all those stages alright. But you see, these bindings are far too strong for me to break through. Better to go along with your whims than wasting all that energy. Would you not agree?"

"Fair point," said Luna. She smiled wryly. "You agree with the whole affair, so it gives you an illusion of choice."

Thoros watched her with narrow eyes. "You know, granny, some truths are better left unsaid."

"If you say so."

Without further ado, Luna showed him the waste pit.

He knew what he had to do. He regarded the pile of rubbish lazily, picking on his teeth with a crooked, talon-like finger. "Ya growing magical plants or something?"

Luna did not want to disclose too much. "Something of that sort."

"Great," he said, getting to his feet. "Magic fertilizer for magical plants, coming right up!"

Thoros got to work. It all happened too fast for Luna to figure out how he did it. All she saw was a thick black swirl of energy wheeling over the pit, buzzing and humming like a swarm of flies. The next moment --all was reduced to a brown mush.

After the counter-ritual was done, which sent Thoros back to the Shadow Plain, Luna dug up the golden seed, spread a layer of that demon-made fertilizer upon the cleansed soil and sowed it once more. Then she applied each and every one of the spells she knew that could aid in a plant's growth, and left it at that.

Either the fertilizer was incredibly potent, or perhaps it was the combined effect of so many spells desperately thrown into the fray--which one it was Luna did not know. Neither did it matter, when she rushed to the garden the next morning to find a little sapling already grown, putting forth soft, dark green leaves. A single bud, pale pink in colour, shimmered with dew.

Ruth had given up the hopes of Jamie's recovery. She'd been sitting at the foot end of her daughter's bed, head lowered, when Luna hurried in, a glass vial clasped in her hand.

It was a wonderful thing to see how fast Jamie recovered. The fever subsided quickly, and within a week, she was back on her feet with a renewed energy. The whole family showered her with gratitude, and Ruth pulled her into a hug so tight it might have fractured a rib or two, if Luna had not wriggled out of it in time.

In the meantime, she continued to observe the growth of the miraculous ursanthus plant. Keeping in mind what Ilaira had told her, she chose to keep it hidden, for there was much yet to be discovered about its properties, and some of its effects might be dangerous. She drew pictures and wrote all about her findings in that red journal of hers. By now, it was quite like a grimoire of her own. She planned to give it to Alvar when it was time for him to take charge of the garden. She also wrote about the summoning ritual of Thoros. He was a rather useful fellow after all. She crafted a few binding spells of her own, to ensure he could not return to the Shadow Plain--unless the summoner willed it so.

Such knowledge was dangerous to be carelessly put in writing. So Luna hid the instructions within an unassuming recipe for mushroom soup. 

Surely her grandson would grow up to be a wise young man someday and make good use of it.

A month later, Elena came home.

There had been no letters for weeks, nothing at all to prepare Luna for the surprise she felt when she threw open the front door in the middle of the night, broom ready in hand to respond to whoever--or whatever-- made those awful banging noises.

Instead of finding some fearsome creature, or a certain demon with an affinity for rotting things and making mischief, she found her daughter waiting on the doorstep. It was jarring to see her after such a long time. Her hair was shorn short, skin bronzed and freckled by the sun, limbs toughened by years of hardship. She looked like a stranger wearing a face too familiar. Luna was looking at a sailor hardened by the sea, but all she could think about was the little girl who spent hours at the riverside, watching the ships come and go and dreamed of boarding one someday to traverse the uncharted waters.

She was happy to see her again, yet so very sad, wishing this reunion was under happier circumstances, wishing everyone else was here to welcome her with a great cheer and rejoice her return for days, as would have been the case in Eastmoor. 

"Mother..." Elena trailed off, looking at the broom. "That's not for me, is it?"

"What?" She'd forgotten the broom completely. She made a noise somewhat between a sob and a laugh. Elena smiled too, and let her knapsack fall to the ground as she rushed into her mother's arms.

Luna pulled her not-so-little girl into a hug. She was very big indeed, and smelled faintly of the sea, and of woodsmoke and long travels. The smell of longing. A moment later, as Elena clung to her, shoulders shaking, Luna realized she was crying.

"I'm too late," she whispered.

Luna stroked the rough strands of her hair and held her closer. "But you're here now."

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and both turned to see Alvar standing there, squinting sleepily at them.

"Who is it, Gran?" he asked, half-asleep.

Elena's eyes lit up upon seeing him. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, swept him off his feet and spun around--and so he was wide awake in a moment.

"It's your Aunt Elena!" she said to the bewildered boy, and handed him a little toy ship from her satchel--a great treasure that he showed off to all his playmates for many weeks to come.

Elena's visits were not regular, for often she was away at sea, but she brought great joy to Frostspire whenever she came. She became a beloved name in the neighbourhood, and on cosy evenings by the fire, Alvar and his playmates gathered around her to listen to the tales of her adventures with the crew of the North Wind. A significant amount of embellishments were added to polish up the stories and they featured an overwhelming number of pirates, abandoned islands and ancient tombs full of treasure. Luna didn't think much of it was true, but the children loved them a lot.

Amidst the joy and laughter, the once lonely cottage became a happy home. The garden bloomed, her flowers thrived like the old days, the ursanthus grew and so did Alvar. He grew as tall as she was, and soon enough, before she knew it, he was taller than her.

The bright years passed by in a flash.

From the sunlit porch on a lovely autumn morning, Luna watched him rake leaves in a pile. He was the spitting image of her youth; the same bright eyes and freckles and a head full of unruly, brown curls that puffed up like a cloud when the winds blew and shone like gold when the sun kissed them.

She got up from the chair with a series of aches and pains in every bone. She felt her age catch up at last.

She leaned over and took her cane from where it stood leaning against the wall. She needed it a lot lately. Too many hours in the sun outside made her weary and dizzy, and it was hard to read without a magnifying glass these days.

As she made her way down the porch stairs and stumbled, Alvar rushed up to help.

"You feeling alright, Gran?"

"Why wouldn't I, silly?" she said, but still took his hand.

He led her near the gate, where the red chrysanthemums bloomed.

"Aren't they just wonderful?" he said.

She looked at Alvar, at the gentle, kind and strong young man he had become. She could rest in peace knowing the magical garden would thrive under his care.

She was happy.