The Nature of the Gift

The air in the Elder’s small, sun-dappled chamber was thick with the scent of dried herbs and something else, something ancient and earthy, like soil after a spring rain. Lilly sat cross-legged on a woven mat, her heart thrumming a nervous rhythm against her ribs. Beside her, her mother offered a small, reassuring smile, though Lilly could see the faintest flicker of apprehension in her eyes. Across from them, the Elder, whose name was whispered as Elara, sat serene, her hands resting like fallen leaves on her lap. The space was sparse, decorated only with a few carved wooden totems and a single, vibrant tapestry depicting a swirling vortex of colours and creatures that seemed to shimmer with an inner light.

“You wish to understand,” Elara’s voice was a low, melodious hum, like the buzz of a contented bee. “You wish to know the nature of the gift.”

Lilly nodded eagerly, her gaze fixed on the Elder. “Yes. Everyone says Kelly could… create life from drawings. But how? Was it magic? Was it… a trick?” The word felt wrong, harsh, even as it escaped her lips.