Time for the teachers to step in and stop the party. But… I mean… would the revel really be eternal if they stop it?
—
The revel was doing better than Xenagos had ever expected.
Theros still celebrated him, of course. It was his home, and it would have been embarrassing if it didn’t. Naya had a walking tavern large enough to carry half a village, with Chandra guarding it from anything foolish enough to interrupt. Thunder Junction had somehow turned into one of the largest suppliers of party drinks in the multiverse.
Somewhere along the way, Jace Beleren had also become a drunken sea-serpent woman who spent most of her time wrapped around Vraska.
Xenagos still wasn’t entirely sure how that had happened, but he wasn’t complaining.
More surprising than any of those places, however, was Arcavios. Specifically, Strixhaven.
As it turned out, students from a magical university enjoyed drinking, dancing and avoiding their responsibilities just as much as students from any ordinary university.
Who could have guessed?
The small celebration Rowan had found outside the school had grown far beyond the old manor where it began. The grounds around it were now covered in tents, outdoor bars, dance floors and several things that probably counted as dangerous experiments.
Prismari students provided music and regular explosions. Silverquill students wrote songs about their professors and insisted the names had been changed. Quandrix students had created an equation that supposedly predicted the exact point where someone became too drunk to understand the equation. Witherbloom students mostly kept asking whether things could be fermented.
The answer was usually yes.
The bigger surprise was that Arcavios had started attracting revelers from other planes. Travelers arrived in small groups, then returned with friends. Some came through portals. Others simply followed the music until reality gave up and let them through.
There were now nights when more people shouted Xenagos’ name on Arcavios than on Theros. And Xenagos liked that. He liked it very much.
There were only two small problems.
The first was the drinks. The revel had grown so quickly that the supply was no longer keeping up.
Thunder Junction had once sent out more alcohol than it could ever hope to drink. Now its own parties had grown large enough that most of those barrels never left the plane. Naya needed regular deliveries for the people celebrating inside Elspeth. Theros certainly wasn’t going to reduce its drinking for anyone.
Arcavios was consuming everything it received almost as soon as it arrived. It wasn’t a disaster yet. There were still full barrels behind every bar and students carrying cups in both hands.
But Xenagos could see where things were heading. An eternal revel required an eternal supply. And he just didn't have that… yet.
The second problem was walking toward the party.
Xenagos felt her long before he saw her. Three professors were making their way through the woods from Strixhaven. Two of them carried enough magic to be worth watching. The third made Xenagos put down his cup.
Her power was buried deep, kept under control so well that most people would never notice it. But it was not like Xenagos was like most people.
Death followed that woman. Not in the common way. This wasn’t some student who had learned how to make a skeleton fetch a book. Her magic carried the weight of graveyards, old curses and thousands of people who had made the mistake of assuming she could be frightened.
Even from another plane, Xenagos could feel it. He had met Erebos before. It wasn’t like this woman was a god, but Xenagos suspected the two of them would have plenty to argue about. So he leaned forward to study her.
This was Professor Seraphina Onix, according to the students who had complained about her over drinks at least. A strict professor, an experienced necromancer and someone who had recently become very interested in why so many students were missing class.
She was coming to investigate, and possibly to shut everything down. The determination in her eyes was staggering.
That made her a problem.
Xenagos looked at the nearly empty storage tents. Then he looked at the necromancer approaching a party on a plane filled with some of the finest magical soil in the multiverse.
Sometimes two problems could be introduced to each other. And sometimes they might even solve each other.
Xenagos picked his cup back up. “Oh, this is going to get good.”
He raised the drink toward the distant professor, ready to set his newest masterplan in motion.
—
Liliana Vess had dealt with student parties before.
Young mages were intelligent, ambitious and almost completely incapable of understanding when an idea had become dangerous. Give them a free evening, access to magic and one person willing to say, “It’ll probably be fine,” and something would be on fire before midnight.
Normally, those incidents handled themselves. Students got tired. Drinks ran out. Someone broke a window, regretted it in the morning and spent the following week trying to repair it without admitting what happened.
But this party… this party was different. It had been going for weeks.
Students left campus and did not return. Some missed lessons for days. Others finally came back with horns, tails, wings or new opinions about how wonderful Xenagos was. One student had returned as a centaur and claimed the transformation made it easier to carry books. He had then missed another three days of class.
Liliana had waited long enough.
She followed the path through the woods with Ruxa and Tivash beside her. Music reached them long before the manor came into view. It was loud enough that the ground shook slightly beneath their feet.
Lights flashed between the trees. Students laughed somewhere ahead. Something exploded, followed by several cheers and one person shouting that they had meant to do that.
Ruxa breathed in through his nose. “There are at least twelve different kinds of alcohol nearby,” he said. “Also smoke, cinnamon and some sort of mushroom.”
Tivash adjusted the bag hanging from his shoulder. “Poisonous mushroom?”
“Probably.” Ruxa shrugged with a slight smile, to which Tivash let out a distinct laugh. “Good to know.”
Liliana looked between them with a stern gaze. “We are not here to taste anything.”
They reached the edge of the grounds a few minutes later. The old manor was barely visible behind everything that had been built around it. Tents covered the lawn. Lanterns hung from the trees. A row of enchanted barrels poured drinks without anyone standing behind them.
Hundreds of people moved between tables, dancing spaces and small stages. A satyr noticed the three professors and immediately came over carrying a tray. “Welcome! First time?”
“We’re here on official Strixhaven business,” Liliana said before either of her colleagues could answer. She wanted to make it clear from the start that they were here to investigate, not join the students for a drink.
The satyr didn’t seem to care either way. “Great. First round is free for staff.” He held out the tray, offering them three large mugs.
Liliana stared at him. Before she could refuse, Ruxa took one and Tivash reached for another.
“Really?” she asked, looking between them in disbelief.
Ruxa smelled his drink before taking a cautious sip. “If we refuse, we’ll stand out.”
“We are three professors walking into a student party. We already stand out.”
“That’s why we need drinks,” Tivash said. He tried his own, paused for a moment and looked down into the mug with unexpected approval. “That’s surprisingly good.”
The satyr pointed toward a nearby bar. “There’s a stronger version past the blue lanterns.”
Tivash’s eyes immediately wandered in that direction. Liliana caught him by the sleeve before he could follow. “Remember, we are investigating this party.”
“Of course.” Tivash gently pulled his sleeve free. “I’m going to investigate the stronger version.”
He left with the satyr before Liliana could stop him. By then, Ruxa had noticed a crowd gathered around an arm-wrestling table. A broad centaur sat at its center, showing off arms nearly as thick as Ruxa’s. Ruxa was nodding to himself very slowly. He then placed the untouched third mug into Liliana’s hands. “I think I should observe that over there.”
Then he walked away too, leaving Liliana alone at the entrance with a mug she had never agreed to hold. Her entire investigation team had fallen apart in less than a minute.
“Excellent,” she muttered. “Very professional.”
With a sigh, she left the drink on the nearest table and continued deeper into the party. As she moved between the crowded tents and dancing students, one detail quickly stood out.
Nobody seemed afraid. There were now teachers among this very clearly strange party, yet no one seemed to care. That worried her more than anything else.
Some noticed her and quickly hid their cups behind their backs. Most simply waved or greeted her before continuing whatever they were doing. Several looked different from the last time she had seen them.
A Silverquill student had black feathers running along both arms. Two Quandrix students were comparing tails and writing down the results. A Prismari woman with antlers had climbed onto a barrel and was conducting a band that didn’t appear to have any instruments.
They all looked happy. Not exactly normal, but very happy. Which didn’t mean exactly nothing was wrong. Liliana had seen plenty of people smile while under an enchantment, the problem was that she wasn’t as good as she wanted to be at detecting mind magic. She did know one annoying guy who was really good at it and who would always rub it under her nose, but this wasn’t about him right now.
She kept walking until she spotted someone she recognized.
Rowan Kenrith rested on a large pile of cushions beneath a cloth canopy. Four arms made it possible for her to hold a drink, sort glowing dream in front of her, point a student toward one of the tents and lazily scratch the side of her head at the same time.
Her upper body was still mostly human. The rest of her was not.
A huge, dark spider body rested beneath her, easily large enough to fill an ordinary room. Six thick legs were folded comfortably around the cushions. Several smaller eyes surrounded the two Rowan had started with.
Rowan noticed Liliana approaching and instead of showing the slightest concern, she just smiled. “Professor Onix. I figured you’d come eventually.”
Liliana stopped beside the cushions and took a moment to look Rowan over. The extra arms and eyes were difficult enough to ignore, but the enormous spider body beneath her made that impossible.
“I must admit, I’m surprised to see you like this,” Liliana said. “You were not a spider the last time we spoke.”
Rowan glanced down at herself, then laughed. “Yeah, I’ve been busy. I fell asleep at the party, started wandering through other people’s dreams, helped a few students, and things just sort of happened from there.” She shifted her broad abdomen against the cushions and lifted one of her extra hands. “It sounds stranger when I say it out loud, but I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I imagine you would have to.” Liliana still wasn’t sure what to make of Rowan’s condition, but she trusted her more than most of the students here. Rowan could be reckless, emotional and difficult, but she was rarely subtle enough to hide something truly sinister for long.
“That is actually why I wanted to speak with you,” Liliana continued. “Students have been leaving Strixhaven for this party and not returning. Some have missed lessons for days, while others come back changed and talk about Xenagos as though they have worshiped him for years. Since I can confidently assume that you have been here a while, do you know if there are any sort of mind control spells associated with this party?”
Rowan’s smile faded into something more serious, though she didn’t look offended. “Nobody is being enchanted. At least, not into staying. There’s plenty of strange magic around here, obviously, but no spell is holding people prisoner.”
“Then why aren’t they coming back?”
“Because they don’t want to yet.” Rowan settled more comfortably into the cushions before gesturing toward the crowded grounds. “The party is fun. The drinks are good, there’s always something happening, and nobody cares if you need a break from classes for a while. Most of the students who came here were already exhausted or stressed. Once they finally relaxed, they decided they weren’t ready to go back.”
“For several weeks?” Liliana gave her an unimpressed look, but Rowan only shrugged. “Some of them had a lot of stress… I’m serious. Nobody is chained to a wall, and nobody gets dragged back if they try to leave. People come here, have fun and stay because the party keeps going. That’s really all there is to it.”
Liliana looked past her at the students drinking, dancing and laughing beneath the lanterns. Rowan’s explanation sounded far too simple, yet she didn’t seem frightened, controlled or even particularly defensive.
That almost made the situation more worrying, especially with students nearby singing about Xenagos beside a statue built from empty bottles. She was about to point that out when a Witherbloom student rushed from behind a trellis, carrying a wooden tray covered in mushrooms, roots and small glass bottles.
Another student stepped into his path. He tripped, and the tray flew from his hands. One of the larger mushrooms struck Liliana across the chest and burst apart, throwing a thick cloud of pale spores straight into her face.
She recoiled with a sharp cough. The spores smelled of wet soil and something unpleasantly sweet, clinging to her throat even after she turned away. The student began apologizing, but his voice already sounded strangely far off.
Liliana tried to order him to stay where he was. Before the words could leave her mouth, the garden shifted beneath her feet.
She caught herself against one of the canopy posts, blinking as the lanterns dragged long trails of color across her vision. The music had become a slow, heavy pounding somewhere beyond the trees, while the voices around her blurred together into a single dull murmur. A numb tingling spread through her fingers, followed by a warm weakness that made her arms feel heavier with every breath.
The Witherbloom student hesitantly moved toward her. Liliana managed to glare at him through the haze, which was enough to send him fleeing back through the vines.
Rowan rose from the cushions and caught Liliana by the arm before her knees could give way. “Oh no, Professor! Please sit down before you fall.”
Liliana attempted to tell her that she was perfectly capable of standing. What came out was a slow, slurred fragment that didn’t sound convincing even to her.
Rowan guided her onto the cushions. Liliana allowed it only because resisting required more coordination than she currently possessed. She would rest for a moment, let the effects pass, then examine the spores and continue the investigation.
“Drink,” Rowan said, gesturing towards the dark glass that seemingly just appeared in front of her.
Liliana squinted at the red-black liquid. “What is it?”
“Something that should settle your head.”
Treating unknown spores with an unknown drink was an obviously terrible idea. Liliana knew that. She also knew that the pressure behind her eyes was getting worse, while the faint scent of berries rising from the glass was far more pleasant than the mushrooms still coating her throat.
She took a small sip.
Warmth slid down into her chest and spread through her body almost immediately. The pounding in her head dulled, though it was replaced by a softer, heavier feeling. Her thoughts no longer hurt to hold onto. Instead, they simply drifted away whenever she stopped concentrating on them.
Rowan watched her for a moment before leaning a little closer. “Actually, Professor, I could use your help with something.”
Liliana frowned at the glass and took another sip, mostly to clear the bitter taste of the spores from her mouth. The warmth spread through her chest and loosened something behind her eyes. Her fingers no longer felt numb, but her thoughts had become soft and slow, drifting apart whenever she tried to hold too many at once.
“And what would that be…?” She managed to get out through her hazy mind.
Rowan spoke slowly, as though the answer should have been obvious. “There’s a vineyard just outside the grounds, but some of the vines aren’t doing well. We need someone who understands soil, decay and how to get new life out of old things. A proper floromancer.”
Liliana tried to correct her. “I’m terribly sorry, but I am a necromancer, not some gardener.”
Yet Rowan’s answer slipped easily into the haze. “ That is precisely why we need you. Plants fed on what had died. Old roots became soil, soil became new life. And who would have a better understanding of that cycle than you, Professor Onix? Any ordinary floromancer could make plants grow, but you, Professor, understand what growth was built upon.”
The idea should have sounded ridiculous. Instead, it became harder to argue with every time Rowan repeated it.
Because in a way, she was right. Liliana knew decay and death better than anyone. She knew how to control it. She knew how to force something useful out of the dead.
Of course she could use that knowledge to create a few vines.
Another glass found its way into her hand. She accepted it without noticing and drank while Rowan calmly explained some more. “The vineyard is just outside. And I am sure the fresh air would help you gather your thoughts as well. It will only take a moment. Would you help us?”
Liliana's head spun in circular logic. She could look at the soil, show the students what they had missed, and return whenever she pleased.
Each thought led neatly into the next. The vineyard was part of the investigation. Fixing it would prove Rowan right. Proving Rowan right would prove Liliana was as capable as Rowan claimed.
And most importantly of all, it would clearly help those students. And if Liliana had learned one thing…
The music around them blurred into a distant pulse, while Rowan’s voice remained clear and close. Liliana could still feel that she should refuse, but the reason no longer came with the feeling.
“What do you say?” Rowan asked and offered her a hand. Liliana took it.
“Fine,” she murmured. “I’ll look.”
Rowan guided her away from the cushions, one arm steady around her while she continued speaking softly about the vineyard and how badly it needed someone with Liliana’s skill.
By the time the cool night air touched her face, Liliana was no longer wondering whether she was a floromancer. She was wondering how no one had realized it sooner.
—
Liliana became aware of herself slowly.
Not waking up exactly. Waking up would have meant lying down somewhere, opening her eyes, remembering what came before and deciding what to do next. This was not that.
This was more like her thoughts finally floating back to the surface after being underwater for too long.
She was standing in a vineyard.
No, not just standing, but full on working.
Her right hand was raised, fingers curled around a thread of black-green magic that sank into the soil between two rows of vines. The ground split open beneath her command, and a corpse dragged itself upward through the dirt. It should have been a simple zombie, but roots had already curled around its arms by the time it stood. Small mushrooms grew along its shoulders, and pale vines twisted through its ribs like something had started using the body as a trellis before she had even finished summoning it.
Liliana stared at it for a moment, trying to decide whether that was wrong.
It was. Probably.
Her head was too heavy to say exactly how.
The zombie turned toward her, waiting. Liliana moved her fingers before she fully understood why, and the corpse stepped toward a weak patch of vines. It sank to its knees, pressed both hands into the soil, and slowly folded forward as if bowing. Then its body broke apart.
Not violently. Not like a corpse falling to pieces.
It just softened, then crumbled. Melted down into dark, rich soil, making the vines above it shiver.
New growth pushed through the old stems, first thin and pale, then thicker and darker. Leaves unfurled in a rush. Grapes swelled from tiny green dots into heavy clusters of deep purple fruit, each one hanging low enough that a student had to hurry over with a basket before the trellis bent too far.
Liliana watched the whole thing happen. She understood what it was while it was happening.
Dead to soil. Soil to roots. Roots to vines. Vines to fruit. Fruit to wine.
It was the definition of a productive circle. Something simple, useful and good.
Then the understanding slipped a little sideways, and she was left staring at the grapes with a dull frown, wondering when she had learned to do that.
A few students moved around her, carrying baskets and tools, but they stayed respectfully out of her way. Or perhaps they stayed out of her way because she was much larger than she remembered being. The top of the nearest trellis sat lower than it should have. The rows of vines seemed to spread beneath her rather than around her.
Liliana looked down at herself.
Her robes were still there, mostly, though they no longer fit the way they should. The sleeves ended too high on her arms. The fabric pulled tight across her shoulders and chest, and the lower part of the robe had been pushed open by vines that had wrapped themselves around her waist and hips like they belonged there. Leaves covered gaps in the cloth. Dark flowers had bloomed along her side.
She stared at the arrangement, trying to find the exact point where it became unacceptable. Yet her mind just refused to hold onto any reason.
Something was wrong. Obviously something was wrong. She was taller. Fuller. Her clothes had adjusted in a way clothes were not supposed to adjust. There was also a faint tickling near her temple, as if something small had tucked itself into her hair.
Liliana reached up, brushed her fingers against a soft little cap, and stopped.
There was a small mushroom in her hair, making her blink slowly. It felt so important, yet at the same time not at all. Was that mushroom always growing from her head?
The thought drifted away before she could decide what to do with it.
The vineyard needed attention.
A row to her left was growing unevenly. The vines were alive, but weak, thin in the stem and pale at the edges of the leaves. Liliana felt the problem before she understood it. The soil beneath them was tired, hungry for nourishment. So she knew she needed to use her powers again.
Something about that should have bothered her once again. Instead, Rowan’s voice echoed faintly in the back of her head.
“You can help them.”
Liliana turned toward the weak row.
“Old roots become soil, soil becomes new life. And who would have a better understanding of that cycle than you, Professor Onix?”
Right. Of course she would understand that best. That part made sense.
Even if the rest of the world was blurry and warm, that one thought stayed clear. She was doing a good job. The students needed someone who knew what they were doing, and Liliana knew death better than any of them. If the plants needed death to grow, then of course she was the right person to help.
Her hand rose again, and more magic spilled into the soil.
Three more bodies clawed their way up between the vines, already tangled with roots and fungus. Liliana pointed, and they obeyed without hesitation. One began digging a channel. Another lifted a heavy basket and carried it toward the press. The third walked into the weakest row, knelt down, and let the vines wrap around it.
Liliana watched the plants drink it in, which held a strange comfort in the rhythm of it.
Summon. Break down. Feed. Grow.
Summon. Break down. Feed. Grow.
The more she worked, the less she needed to think. The vineyard seemed to know what it wanted from her, and her hands understood before her mind caught up. Every time she raised the dead, the plants reached for them. Every time the plants grew, the students cheered softly, like they were trying not to startle her.
Liliana liked that.
She was not sure she should like it, but she did.
A student approached from the lower path, carrying something far too large to be an ordinary cup. It was a mug, technically, though it looked more like a small bucket with a handle. Dark wine sloshed inside, red-black and shining with tiny flecks of gold.
“Professor?” the student asked carefully. “Rowan said you might want this.”
Liliana looked down at the mug. The smell reached her before the thought did. Sweet grapes. Berries. Damp earth. Something fungal beneath it, soft and familiar now, like the vineyard itself had been poured into a drink.
She should not drink it. Finally a clear thought that she could hold, but only remained clear for a few moments. Then Rowan’s voice whispered through the haze again. “Fresh air will help. A little drink will settle your head. You’re helping everyone.”
Liliana accepted the mug with both hands, graciously enough that the student smiled in relief. “Thank you,” She said, her voice sounding slower than usual. Softer too.
And so, she drank. The wine was warm and cool at the same time. Cool to the touch, warm as well and not just in her mouth or throat, but everywhere at once. It rushed down into her chest, spread through her stomach, then bloomed outward until even her fingertips tingled. The pressure behind her eyes melted. Her thoughts, which had been stumbling around trying to make sense of things, finally gave up and sank into the warmth.
The vineyard brightened. The rows looked healthier. The students looked happier. The little mushroom in her hair pulsed gently, releasing a faint dusting of spores that drifted across her face as she lowered the mug.
Liliana inhaled without meaning to. For one wonderful moment, there was no confusion at all.
No investigation. No missing students. No reason to be angry. No need to sort through what was wrong with her body or why the vines on her robe moved when she breathed.
There was only the vineyard. There were weak plants, and she could make them strong. And there were dead things, and she could make them useful. There were also students waiting for her help, and she was helping them.
Liliana smiled, slow and pleased, then raised one hand again, and the soil opened eagerly beneath her. More zombies rose as more vines reached out, causing more grapes to swell heavy on the rows.
And somewhere beneath the soft, happy fog filling her head, Liliana continued her work.
—
The next time Liliana found her thoughts again, the vineyard was blooming around her.
Not neatly or gently, or like any garden someone had planned with patience and a little notebook.
Everything was huge.
Flowers the size of shields pushed up between the rows, their petals dark purple, red and sickly green, all glossy with dew that smelled faintly of wine. Vines crawled over the trellises in thick, twisting ropes, heavy with grapes that had grown far beyond any normal size. Mushrooms spread wherever her magic touched the soil, forming soft glowing patches beneath the leaves. And in the middle of it all stood Liliana, both hands raised, pulling another corpse from the ground.
The zombie rose slowly, already tangled with roots before it had fully clawed its way out. Mushrooms burst from its shoulders. A vine slid through its ribs, wrapped around its spine, and climbed upward as though the dead body had always been meant to become a support pole.
When Liliana moved her fingers, the zombie rose and then knelt. Its body crumbled into the soil, and from that spot a cluster of flowers erupted so quickly that nearby students had to jump back. The stems thickened, curled, and opened into enormous blooms, beautiful in a way that looked just a little wrong. Just too quickly, too large, too colorful and too eager.
Liliana stared at them through the soft fog in her head.
That was not how plants usually grew or looked like. But then again, they were growing well. Was that strange or good? Which mattered more?
“Haa…” Liliana sighed, realizing that her head just wasn’t all that good at answering those questions at the moment.
She lowered one hand and looked down at herself, trying to figure out why the ground seemed so far away. She was taller now. Much taller. Four meters at least, maybe even approaching five. It was hard to judge when everything kept swaying pleasantly at the edges.
Her old clothes had mostly given up. A few torn pieces of dark fabric still clung to her here and there, but the vineyard had replaced the rest. Thick vines wrapped around her body like a living dress, crossing over her chest, curling around her waist, and falling down over her hips in layers of leaves and flowers. It should have felt strange. It probably should have felt alarming.
Instead, it felt so easy. The plants covered what needed covering and moved with her as if they knew where they belonged. What more would she need?
Her body had changed too, though her woozy mind struggled to place exactly how. She felt heavier in some places and stronger in others. Her hips had become broad enough that some of the vines seemed happy to rest against them, and her chest had grown full and heavy beneath its leafy covering, rising slowly with every deep breath. She could feel the weight of herself more than before, this lush, exaggerated shape that matched the wild abundance of the garden around her.
Liliana frowned down at her body for a moment, as somehow, in some way, she felt like something was wrong about it.
Then a nearby row of vines started to wilt, and the thought slipped away.
She turned, lifted her hand, and let a wave of green-black magic roll over the vineyard. The weak plants withered at once, folding into themselves, leaves curling and falling into the soil. A few students gasped, but before any of them could complain, Liliana closed her fingers and forced new growth through the dead remains.
Fresh vines burst from the ground. They were thicker than before and much stronger. Their flowers opened in seconds, and dark grapes swelled beneath the leaves until the trellises groaned under the weight.
It made Liliana smile. It was a small smile at first, then a warmer one as the students began cheering.
She could make the whole garden bloom in minutes. Then she could kill it. And then after, she could make it bloom again, better than before.
The idea settled into her with a strange, easy joy. She had always understood death as power, as control, as something to command. Witherbloom had always seemed messy to her, too obsessed with mud and swamps and things rotting under leaves.
Now, standing in the middle of the vineyard, she finally understood why they valued it.
Before she thought that death was not only an ending, but the beginning of her reign. But not here. Here, death was the next batch of soil, followed by the next burst of growth, which was then followed by the next harvest. A corpse could work, then feed the roots, then become flowers, then become fruit, then become wine.
It was wasteful, really, that she had never paid more attention to this before. It made her giggle a little bit, causing a tickle to brush her forehead.
Liliana reached up and found the mushroom on her head had grown again. The little cap from before had widened into a broad dark shape that almost covered the top of her head, tilting low enough to shade her eyes. Smaller mushrooms clustered around it, tucked into her hair like decorations. When she touched the edge, the cap gave a gentle tremble.
Spores drifted down over her face, making Liliana breathe them in.
Warmth spread through her thoughts, smoothing out the last sharp pieces of worry. The vineyard opened around her again, not as rows and plants, but as a living system waiting for her hands. Roots wanted food. Flowers wanted space. Grapes wanted sweetness. The dead waited patiently in the soil for her to tell them what to become.
Never before had she felt so happy, free and most importantly of all, useful in her life.
That was the clearest thing in her head. She was helping. The students needed this vineyard. The revel needed the wine. People would drink, laugh, dance, and forget their troubles because she had made the plants strong enough to provide for them.
A group of students approached from the lower path, pushing a small cart between them. On it sat a full barrel, already opened at the top, with a long wooden handle attached to one side so it could be lifted toward her.
“Professor?” one of them called up carefully. “We brought more wine. For you.”
Liliana looked down at the barrel and her mood improved even more once again.
The smell of thick, sweet and rich alcohol drifted up from that barrel even stronger than the mug from before. Grapes, berries, damp soil, mushrooms, and something warm beneath it all that made her mouth relax into another smile.
Of course they had brought wine. Not only just wine, but the wine she had worked so hard to create. And the students were being thoughtful as to give her a refreshment as well after working so hard for… eh. Who cares how long already?
Liliana accepted the barrel with both hands, lifting it as easily as an ordinary cup. The students watched in awe as she raised it to her lips and drank.
The wine poured into her in a heavy, wonderful rush. Her critical thoughts vanished almost immediately.
The vineyard brightened. The music in the distance seemed to return, faint but cheerful, beating in time with the warmth spreading through her body. The mushroom cap above her head released another slow breath of spores, and Liliana inhaled them with a pleased sigh.
As the barrel grew lighter and her mind grew quieter, as a whole, she just felt happier.
By the time she lowered it, there was no need to wonder what was wrong anymore. Nothing felt wrong. The vines around her body were comfortable. The flowers were beautiful. The students were smiling. The dead were useful.
Liliana gave the empty barrel back to the stunned students and turned toward the next field, raised her hands again and made the soil open up.
Zombies climbed free, vines reached for them, and the vineyard bloomed beneath the gentle, drunken guidance of its Floromancer.
—
The third time Liliana came back to herself, it took her a while to understand that she had come back at all.
Her thoughts did not snap into place. They rose slowly, one by one, like bubbles through thick wine. First came the smell of grapes. Then damp soil and flowers. Then the soft tickle of spores drifting around her face.
Finally, she realized she was standing in the middle of the vineyard again. Except the vineyard was no longer really a vineyard.
It had become a forest of vines, flowers and mushrooms, all arranged in rows that still somehow made sense if she looked at them the right way. Trellises that had once been wooden frames now looked tiny and useless beneath the plants growing over them. Vines as thick as tree trunks curled through the field, climbing over one another and hanging heavy with clusters of dark grapes as large as lanterns. Flowers the size of tables opened between the rows, their petals deep purple, black, red and green, each one breathing out a sweet smell that mixed with the wine in the air.
Everything had grown. The plants were huge, the mushrooms too. And most importantly Liliana had grown with them.
She was enormous now. Eight meters tall, maybe more. It was difficult to judge because the world below her looked much too small, and the plants around her had clearly decided to become enormous too. Her bare feet were deep in the soil, roots curling around her ankles like they were greeting her. Vines climbed her legs and wrapped around her body in slow, careful layers, forming something like a dress.
A very alive dress, made of leaves that covered her thighs and hips, flowers bloomed along her waist, and thick vines crossed over her chest, holding and hiding the massive weight there with almost polite confidence. Mushrooms decorated her shoulders and sides like dark jewelry. Soft mycelium hung in pale threads along parts of the gown, swaying whenever she moved.
Liliana looked down at herself for a long moment. Her body was far too large, too full and too lush just in general. Her hips had become broad and generous, her chest enormous beneath the living vines, her whole shape as overgrown and abundant as the vineyard itself.
Some distant part of her knew this should have troubled her. But instead, she only thought that the plants had done good work covering everything.
She lifted her hand to her head, adjusting the big mushroom on her top. It had grown into a huge, wide cap, spreading above her like a gothic broad-brimmed hat. It tilted low enough to shade her face, dark and elegant, with pale glowing spots along the rim. Smaller mushrooms had grown around it, tucked into her hair, and when she touched the brim, it released a soft puff of spores.
Liliana was always breathing them in without thinking, and everytime she did, she felt like she was becoming closer to the vineyard again.
Not physically of course, as she was already in it. No, it was more like she felt closer connected to it, making everything feel warmer and softer at the edges. It made the roots beneath her feet make sense. And the vines around her body too.
Seeing her work, the animated dead workers moving through the rows with perfect control, having mutated into much bigger plant zombies as well, made her feel accomplished. She could feel each generation of plants pressing forward, stronger than the one before it. She could feel the grapes swelling with sugar, magic and something bright that belonged to the revel.
The revel.
Liliana’s thoughts paused there.
For what revel?
The question formed slowly, almost carefully, as if it had pushed its way up from somewhere buried. She frowned beneath the shadow of her mushroom hat. The word was important. Suspicious, maybe. It belonged to the reason she had come here.
She had come here to…
To…
A vine near her hand curled gently around her wrist.
And then… the thought slipped.
The vineyard needed her. That was easier to understand.
A familiar shape moved along one of the larger mushroom paths. Rowan climbed up toward her, using her spider legs to move over vines and caps as though the whole overgrown field had been built for her. Maybe it had. At this point, Liliana couldn’t be too sure.
Rowan stopped on a mushroom platform near Liliana’s shoulder and looked around with open admiration. “Okay,” she said. “You’ve been busy.”
Liliana turned her head slowly. “The vineyard was underperforming and I put it back to working order. That's all there is to it.”
“That’s one way to put it.” Rowan laughed, to which Liliana smiled proudly. “I don’t think it is underperforming anymore.”
“No,” Rowan said, looking at the towering vines and the carts of grapes moving below. “It most definitely isn’t.”
As she laughed Liliana looked past Rowan toward the lights in the distance. The party was still there, glowing beneath the trees. Music drifted through the night. Students and strangers moved between tents, carrying cups, laughing, dancing, shouting happily whenever a fresh barrel arrived from the vineyard.
They were happy. And it was all because of her.
Liliana watched another cart roll away, loaded with enormous grapes and sealed barrels. A group of students cheered as they followed it down the hill. One of them looked up at her and waved with both arms like she was the most impressive thing he had ever seen.
All questions and doubts softened. Maybe the details did not matter.
The revel was where the wine went. The revel was where people smiled because of what she had made. The revel was the reason the vineyard had a purpose.
And Liliana herself also liked having a purpose. As she nodded to herself, movement near the lower path caught her eye.
A large bear-like figure stood on a raised wooden platform near the edge of the vineyard, surrounded by speakers made from hollowed mushroom caps and vine-wrapped crystals. Heavy music pulsed from the setup, low enough that the grapes trembled on the vines. The figure had one paw over a glowing soundboard and the other raised to the crowd while students danced around the platform.
Liliana stared. The bear looked somewhat like Ruxa, at least somewhat. It looked like Ruxa if Ruxa had become a party DJ with vine bracelets, glowing headphones and a very serious expression about rhythm.
That seemed extremely unlikely. After all, Ruxa was a professor and a responsible colleague. He would not have wandered off for one drink, challenged students at arm wrestling, transformed into some kind of festival bear DJ and decided to provide music for the vineyard.
Probably.
Before she could think too hard about it, another familiar shape moved near the press line.
A woman stood there with a long coat, dark hair and a summoning circle glowing at her feet. Several elegant succubi leaned around her, laughing as they carried bottles, checked labels and occasionally kissed her cheeks whenever she gave them instructions. The woman looked confident, flushed and far too pleased with herself.
Again, Liliana narrowed her eyes, as that one looked almost like Tivash. Again, almost.
She was sure that Tivash wasn’t exactly a girl, nor that young. And even if she was, there was no way she had turned into a summoner girl surrounded by a small staff of beautiful demons who seemed delighted to help with quality control.
Liliana considered this, then breathed out while shaking her head. “No, that couldn’t be. I’m overthinking things again.”
“When one is overthinking…” Rowan interjected, surprising Liliana as she had almost forgotten that she was right there. “...nothing works more wonders than a good glass of wine.”
“Most true.” Liliana couldn’t agree more. “Would you happen to have…”
“Always.” Rowan shouts downwards from the mushroom. “Lift up the barral, girls!”
That's when a bunch of winged students flew up, carrying a massive barrel with handlebars up to the mushroom Rowan was standing on and placed it right next to her. Then filled up their own glasses with wine, only to present Liliana with the giant barrel afterwards.
Liliana felt almost touched about their generosity.
“May the drinks and the revel never end!” Rowan declared, raising the glass to a toast. All the students raised their glasses up and cheered as well.
As she watched the tiny by comparison students in front of her, the title Rowan had given her floated back through her mind.
Floromancer.
It still sounded strange, but it also sounded absolutely right. With every hand Liliana raised, the vineyard would go through another cycle. With every cycle more and better fruit for wine could be produced.
She would make it grow. She would make it wither. The cups would fill, the songs would continue, and the revel would spread as far as the roots could reach.
She was Professor Seraphina Onix, Liliana Vess in disguise, the great and powerful Floromancer of Xenagos.
And as the great Floromancer of Xenagos, she raised her barrel as well. “May the drinks and revel never end.”