Lesser Bloom

Unwavering hope

Jergal looked down his notes and shook his head slightly in disbelief, then continued tp scribble the story of the Lesser Bloom

With a heavy heart, Lirael trudged back to the library, which had been her home for as long as she could remember. She looked sadly at the books, then down at her small hands. She had invested so much time and energy into proving that she was worthy of love and of her name. Tears stung her eyes, but her sorrow was soon replaced by defiance. She clenched her teeth and, with determination in her sky blue eyes, wiped away her tears with the sleeve of her torn garment. Lirael set off down the familiar corridors reserved for the servants and maids. Carefully hidden from the view of the nobels. These passages weren't as cold and crude as in human castles made out of stone. They were elegant, secretive extensions of the palace itself, designed so that lesser folk can move invisibly while preserving the ethereal beauty of the main halls. Lirael pressed the hidden leaf motif in the engravings of the wall and the reflection of the huge mirror in front of her rippled like a pond, parting to let her step through into a dim, vine-draped tunnel lined with faintly glowing fungi. The mirrors are enchanted so that from the noble side, only serene woodland scenes appear—no hint of movement or shadow ever betrays the workers slipping past. Most of the maids and servants who were not of Elven descent moved about within the palace walls as ghosts. Only their flawlessly executed work gave any indication that they had been there. Lirael rushed down these secret hallways with a plan in her head and hope in her heart. After a few left and right turns and double skipped steps, she arrived to the kitchen door. Pushing the large wooden door with all her effort. Someone from the other side of the door noticed her struggle and opened it wide, Lirael lost her balance and rolled into the kitchen. Only to be stopped by the impact with Mara's legs. Mara Thornweight a middle-aged stout halfling woman, who runs the secondary "mortal" kitchen wing where heavier roasting, frying, and butchery happen, since elves preferred the lighter and more elegant dishes, Mara was the one taking care of the needs of the working force. She laughed at Lirael's arrival and helped her up.

- Little one! You flew into my kitchen like someone who had been hit by a gust of wind! - Lirael giggled and apologized for bumping into Mara. She smiled and waved her hand gesturing that she had taken bigger impacts in her life than a bird boned little girl bumping into her.

- What brings you here? - she asked and her eyes were filled with sadness for the young half-elf. Everyone knew within the palace what fate was Lirael's, and despite the danger of being reprimanded or even fired, Mara couldn't help to sneak a few good meals for the girl from time to time. Lirael could probably thank her life only Mara, and few more kind soul's care. Lirael always looked up on Mara for being kind and strong. She was loud, flour-dusted, perpetually tasting sauces with a wooden spoon which she waved like a conductor's baton. She grumbles good-naturedly about "those leaf-munching lords" but secretly adores crafting the one perfect Elven dessert they'll actually praise. Lirael grabbed Mara's hands and her smile faded.

- You have no new scars... - she mumbled softly and received a scoff and a gentle smack on her forehead in exchange.

- That's good news you silly girl! Do you want this old hag to hurt herself?! - Lirael's eyes widened and she started shaking her head violently.

- No not at all! I just wanted to try out my power, and hoped I could help you with healing some injuries. - Mara's gaze softened and the hand that smacked her before now patted Lirael's head.

- So you have awakened your power, congratulations little lady! - Lirael blushed, and chuckled happily.

- Thank you Mara! - The half-human turned around and grabbed a big soft looking pastry from the counter. It was still steaming, she gently wrapped it around a clean cloth and handed it to the young girl. Lirael looked at the fluffy dough and the scent of something sweet hit her nose. Her eyes sparkled as she asked Mara.

- What is this? - Mara smiled at her, with a bit of pain in her heart, since even the regular kids in the kingdom had chance to try this pastry out.

- Cocoa Roll. - Lirael tried to hand back the pastry to Mara who's eyebrows ran up on her forehead almost getting tangled into her curly, red hair.

- What do you think you are doing?

- Cocoa is expensive, I'm not worthy to eat this. - Mara scoffed angrily, but she wasn't mad at Lirael, more of the circumstances.

- You deserve it and much more! This is your reward for your hard work! Enjoy. - Lirael tried to fight but Mara literally put her out of the kitchen and said.

- Check the stables! Maybe Torvald or Kragga needs some healing. - Lirael's face lighted up and she waved to Mara happily while she ran towards the stables, shouting.

- Thanks Mara! - the woman's gaze followed Lirael's path still she got out of her sight, and her eyes filles with pity for the young girl. The journey from the castle kitchen to the stables is a quiet, practical path that servants like Mara or Grim the butcher take several times a day—carrying scraps for the horses or fetching fresh herbs. It's shorter and more direct than the grand promenades, yet still weaves through the palace's living beauty. Lirael took a big bite of the cocoa roll and enjoyed the sweet taste of it while she took a slight turn and arrived to the lower herb terrace. The path here is smooth packed earth dusted with faint moonstone grit that glimmers softly. Low beds of silver sage, star-anise, and moonwort line the way, their scents sharp and clean in the warm air. Apart from the library and stables this was Lirael's favorite place, the scent of all the herbs and medicines she knew so well by now, always calmed her racing mind. A short flight of worn stone steps lifted her into the Veil of Whispering Blossoms, where the servant trail becomes a narrow ribbon of pale quartz gravel. Graceful arches of silver birch and flowering vine curve overhead, heavy with luminara lilies and frost-roses that release chilled honey scent with each breeze. Despite seeing this path so many times, it's beauty still amazed Lirael. She happily ate her reward while continuing her path towards the stables, now slowing her steps. Sunlight filtered through in golden shafts, dappling the path like scattered coins.

As Lirael walks, the path curves gently, offering a clear view across a low hedge of thornless briar to the Tea Garden—a sunlit circular glade reserved for the elven ladies. There, under a canopy of translucent pale leaves, her half-sister, Sylvara and the other noblewomen recline on cushioned benches around delicate tables of living wood. They sip fragrant infusions from moon-silver cups, their flowing gowns shimmering like water, laughter soft as wind chimes. Servants move invisibly along the edges, refilling pots and offering trays of delicate pastries, while floating lanterns drift lazily above even in daylight. Lirael keeps her eyes forward, steps quick and quiet, knowing better than to linger or be noticed. Lirael finished the cocoa roll just before the garden soon grew wilder. Open glades with ancient oaks draped in glowing lichen, fireflies drifting in the dappled light. After a few more minutes, the path dips beneath a living tunnel of intertwined branches and emerges at the stables: soaring pavilions grown from the palace-trees, open-sided with translucent leaf roofs letting sunlight and starlight mingle. Warm horse scents and the soft whicker of moonshadow steeds greet you, grounding the ethereal walk in solid, earthy work. She already saw from afar how Kragga was trying to tame an Opal colored Unicorn while Pip was sitting in the high grass and laughing at Kragga's attempt to try to talk smoothly to the horse. The quick witted, young stable boy noticed Lirael first.

- Milady! What bring you here? - he asked and Lirael smiled, feeling a bit guilty that she already finished the cocoa roll. She took a mental note to save some of the treats next time for Pip. Pippin "Pip" Burrows the cheerful young halfling in his early twenties bowed in front of Lirael. She giggled only Pip treated her slightly like a noble lady and all these little interactions warmed her heart. Pip was tiny, but quick, always darting between stalls with buckets and brushes. He was just as big fan of the horses as Lirael. He knew every horse's personality and gossip; using the hidden passages like his personal highway.

Jergal stopped and put a side note on the parchment.

- Pippin "Pip" Burrows halfling man, early 20s — Stable lad / messenger. - Passed away of an infection that wasn't treated at Areindel after he tried to deny Lirael's part of the m******e.