*Saoirse*

The cool morning air kissed my cheeks as I kneeled among the blooms in the garden, my hands deep in the dark soil. A bead of sweat traced a path down my brow as the warmth of the still-rising sun found me.

"Easy there, little ones," I murmured to the budding roses, my voice quiet. There was a peace in the simplicity of tending life that I clung to with quiet desperation.

I felt the familiar weight of my staff against my leg. The power within it hummed, ...