He handed her the bucket without looking at her.
"Go to the lake and bring more water."
She nodded without complaining. The bucket bumped against her leg with each step. It was almost taller than she was. The steep path, full of loose stones, made her progress difficult.
When she finally reached the lake's edge, she crouched and submerged the container. She immediately felt the weight of the water pulling on her arm; she didn't have enough strength to hold it.
She looked at the bucket, then her hands, reddened from the effort. She let out a short sigh, looked around—no one in sight—and let a small current of energy flow from her palm to the bucket. The water vibrated slightly, just enough to lift from the bottom without spilling over. It didn't float completely. It only lightened.
After that, she got ready to leave as if nothing had happened.
On the way back, she couldn't help but notice a plant growing among the stones. It had grayish, slightly velvety leaves and a faint, almost imperceptible scent.
She stopped for a moment, leaning in to examine it more closely. She had no idea what it could be used for, but thought that maybe its color and texture could be useful for her father's experiments.
Without much thought, she picked a small shoot and carefully stored it. Maybe later she would understand better what to do with it. With some soil still attached, she wrapped it in the piece of cloth she always carried for such cases and tucked it into the folds of her clothes.
She took the bucket again and got ready to leave.
When she arrived home, she put down the bucket and went to the small makeshift greenhouse by the door. Among the pots, she recognized several plants they had spent days studying together. Her fingers brushed the grayish sage, its rough, dusty leaves well known to her.
"This one," her father said without looking up from the notebook where he was writing results, "has compounds that stabilize elemental energy. When we extract its oils, we can create a catalyst that reduces wear in those who control fire."
She nodded, remembering the tests they had done to adjust the doses.
She put the new plant aside on a cloth. She said nothing. With a small knife, she separated the stem from the leaves, sniffed the sap, and observed the cut.
It wasn't like the ones they usually used. It had a silvery tint under the light.
"Where did you get it?" he asked without raising his head.
"From the path to the lake."
Her father let out a soft "hmm," quite focused. Then he looked up to observe the plant more closely.
"I don't recognize it. It could be a local variant… or a mutation."
He sat up a bit, setting the notebook aside, and took the plant between his fingers. He gently squeezed the stem, sniffed the sap, just like she had done.
"Did you notice anything by touch?"
"The leaves are soft, but they leave a slight powder. Like sage, but finer," she answered, watching closely as he turned the shoot under the light.
"Interesting… We could try a slow maceration, but we don't have enough pure alcohol. Nor dry camphor."
"I'll go to the market. I'll ask for juniper roots or beet fermentation, and see if there's any white resin left."
"Also ask for birch bark," he added before returning to the notebook.
"And see if anyone brought red sage from the south."
She nodded slightly and left without hurry, the cloth still carrying the faint aroma of the new plant tucked in her clothes.
The sun was already setting, lengthening the shadows of the trees and tinting the stones of the path with amber. The way to the market wasn't long, but it always seemed longer when she had something on her mind.
When she arrived, the usual hustle hadn't lessened. Overlapping voices, laughter, complaints. The air was heavy with the smell of dust, sweet fruit, and reheated oil.
She moved easily among the stalls. It wasn't her first time going alone, though she never stayed too long. As she passed through an aisle of uneven awnings, a group of boys whispered heatedly around a box of tinted crystals. One of them turned his head just as she walked by.
His eyes had a warm hue, closer to red than usual. An uncommon tone that stood out effortlessly.
She looked away—not out of discomfort, but because in places like that, drawing attention was never a good idea.
She recognized Harun by the blue scarf tied around his neck and the small table of covered jars. She approached calmly.
"I need something that works as a solvent," she said straight to the point. "Something pure."
The man looked up, studied her for a moment, then looked down at the jar she took out from the small wrap.
"What is this?"
"I don't know yet."
Harun squinted. He sniffed the cloth wrapping the plant without touching the contents.
"I can give you fermented apple ethanol if you want it clean. Also dry bark to absorb excess. But it won't be cheap."
She nodded. Of course it wouldn't be cheap. She didn't expect anything else.
As she left, the faint scent of the plant still clung to her clothes. She walked among the market stalls, discreetly asking for ingredients. Some she found quickly, others weren't available or were too expensive.
Leaving the busiest area behind, she turned into a side street. Fewer people, less noise. At the end, a building fenced with a tall fence stood out. Inside, several young people trained, launching bursts of energy with precision and force.
"Hey, Kaia," a voice called from the fence.
She turned. She recognized the boy immediately. He was leaning on the bars, arm hanging casually as if he'd been waiting for her to pass for a while.
"Collecting strange things again?"
"White resin," she answered directly.
He whistled softly, impressed.
"That's rarer than usual. What do you need it for?"
"It's not important," she said, neither harshly nor explaining more.
He smiled sideways as if he already expected that answer.
"Maybe it would help to ask inside. They sometimes use resin in their training… though I don't know if white. If you want, I can ask."
Kaia thought for a moment.
"If it's not a bother."
"For you, it's not," he said without hesitation.
She didn't react. Maybe she didn't hear him fully. Maybe she just didn't care.
"Thanks," she said.
He straightened a little as if about to return to his group, but hesitated for a second.
"Kaia."
She stopped, waiting.
"Will you be around here tomorrow?"
"Depends on what I find today."
"Then, if I find something… should I look for you here?"
She nodded once. He smiled with more intention, as if that answer encouraged him.
"Good luck with what's left."
She resumed her walk unhurriedly. She didn't have many expectations. But if he said he'd ask, maybe he would.
When she arrived, her father was already in the workshop, checking some jars under the dim light.
"Well?" he asked without raising his voice much.
Kaia put on the table what she had gotten. He started opening each item with a mix of interest and fatigue.
"This will do…" he said, seeing a dry root. "And this… I tried to use it a while ago, but it didn't react as it should. Maybe this time, with a different approach…"
He got lost among his papers, searching for a formula. Kaia watched him for a moment before approaching the plant, still half wrapped.
She unrolled it carefully, just a bit. The smell was still there, softer. When she touched one of the leaves, she noticed something strange. A kind of tingling ran through her fingers, as if a thread of her gift had moved on its own, without her calling it.
For a moment, the leaf seemed to rise toward her hand. Subtle, almost imperceptible.
Kaia pulled back her fingers, holding her breath. She waited. But nothing else happened.
She covered the plant calmly again, as if nothing had happened. But inside, she kept thinking about it. It was no coincidence.
She didn't tell her father.
He, meanwhile, kept writing formulas.