“My hydrangeas are looking healthy today, aren’t they?” I say to the hydrangeas.

  Is it a bad sign that I’ve been talking to the plants in the greenhouse lately? Nah, I’m just keeping them company and filling the silence of the room. It’s especially quiet today. Hopper was finally allowed back into the Archery club, and Helia is… trying to hash it out with her sister? I think. It was hard to understand what she was saying. I’m pretty sure that’s what she went to go do.

  “So, it’s just you and me today,” I say to the hydrangeas.

  “Are you talking to the flowers?” Viola asks out of nowhere.

  Turning around, I see the purple-haired elf that I’ve come to know as Viola. When did she get here, and how did I not notice her?

  “If it isn’t my purple-haired friend. To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask, trying to hide my surprise.

  Viola walks over to the hydrangeas and gently touches the petals. “These are very happy flowers. I didn’t expect you to be good with plants,” she says.

  “My mother had a garden in the house. I picked up a couple of things,” I say as I search through the garden.

  “You know it was a lot harder to find you than I expected. Obviously, we have class together, but you’re usually sleeping through it. So, I thought it would be best to talk to you during club,” she states.

  Rifling through some plants, I pull out some lavender. “Yes, most people would expect me to be in the Cooking Club, considering my exceptional baking abilities, but alas, I am here. Speaking of clubs, how's the Artist Club treating you?” I ask as I hand her a pot with lavender.

  Viola looks confused as she holds the pot. “It’s going well, but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about,” she says.

  “What did you come here to talk about?” I ask as I hand her a small watering can.

  “Well, I… We wanted to thank you for what you did back in the Whisperwood forest. You didn’t have to do that,” Viola says with a hint of guilt.

  “You’re welcome. Now onto more interesting business. You should water the lavender whenever the soil is dry to the touch and make sure it gets plenty of sunlight. Which will be difficult since it’s winter, but I think you’ll figure it out,” I say as I hand her a small parchment filled with notes.

  “Thank you? I… I’m trying to thank you for saving us. You do understand that, right?” she asks, carrying a pot of lavender, a watering can, and a scroll of parchment.

  “Yes, I understand. You’re welcome,” I say in a matter-of-fact way.

  “Can I give you something to show how appreciative we are, because right now it feels like I’m being thanked?” she asks.

  “There’s nothing you can… Actually, you said you were an artist, right?” I ask.

  Her eyes light up. “Yeah, no, I am. Is there something I can draw for you?”

  “Actually, yeah. Can you paint a portrait using a description I give you?” I ask.

  “Kind of. We’d have to go to the Artist Club, but yeah,” she says.

  “Lovely, let's go,” I say as I put my coat on and walk out of the greenhouse.

  “Wait for me!” Viola says as she struggles with the stack of things I gave her.

  The smell of paint and clay hangs in the air as I sit waiting for Viola to come back. With a yawn, I look around at the various sculptures and paintings. Most are incomplete, but even I can tell that they would fetch a pretty penny on the market. I guess Sylvia University does have the best of the best.

  Viola stumbles out of the supply closet with a canvas and easel. “Sorry for the wait. I found it.”

  “No worries. I don’t have anything to do today. Are any of these yours?” I ask as I point out the various paintings.

  Shyly, she points out a small canvas in the corner. “It’s not done yet, and I’m still a beginner, but I think I’m improving,” she says, finding her confidence along the way.

  As Viola sets up, I walk over to the painting she pointed out. It’s a small portrait of Dryad with roses in her hair. Well, well, well. I’m pretty sure that’s Ruby. I’m almost certain that Ruby didn’t have the time to sit for a portrait, so this was done by memory. Very detailed memory. Oh, Viola, you dog. Besides that, this is actually really good. It’s like she captured a part of Ruby’s soul in this painting. It feels alive and filled with longing. Oh, Ruby, you don’t know what you’ve done to poor Viola. This seems like something fun I should keep an eye on.

  “I’m ready,” Viola says as she puts on a stained apron.

  Walking back, I sit across from her with the canvas pointed away from me.

  “So, who are we painting?” she asks, getting a multitude of paints ready.

  “Someone near and dear to my heart. An older woman with dark black hair and dark brown skin.”

  “A child of the Sands?” Viola asks as she starts to paint.

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  “Yeah. So, naturally, she has red eyes,” I say, reminiscing.

  “What kind of hair does she have? Straight, long, short?”

  I take a second to answer. “She had curly long hair.”

  Half an hour passes as Viola continues to paint. As she does, my eyes wander to various paintings. Beautiful paintings of animals and buildings, but one catches my eye. A painting of a landscape. Large mountains, thick pointy trees, and snow-covered ground. It’s the Whisperwood forest from a bird's eye view. To think such a dangerous place could be so beautiful.

  “What about her smile?” Viola asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

  “A kind one that brings warmth, and her eyes were always filled with joy,” I describe from memory.

  The sound of brushstrokes fills the room as Viola continues to work tirelessly. “Who was she?” Viola asks.

  “Like I said, someone dear to me,” I answer curtly.

  Viola nods as she places her brushes down. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up. I’m still learning.”

  I nod. “I understand,” I [Lie].

  Viola hesitates before flipping the canvas towards me. The painting radiates warmth. Viola doesn’t give herself enough credit. It’s just right. It’s her. Down to the very last detail. I catch myself as I feel my hand reach for the painting. I knew I shouldn’t have done this.

  “It’s great, Viola. Thank you. You can keep it,” I say as I stand up and walk out.

  “Wait, Chosen…” Viola says as her voice gets further and further away.

  Walking with aimless purpose, I eventually find myself in the most isolated corner I know of on this campus. The gazebo. The same place we fought Bianca the Krone. Standing in the cold air, I take a deep breath and then another. Breath after breath, I let the cold air in until it doesn’t feel cold anymore.

  After a while, the sun sets, and I find myself staring at the frozen stream. Yeah, let's throw pebbles at it. I stand back, grab a couple of pebbles from my coin pouch, and [Throw] them at the frozen stream. Some embed themselves in the ice. Others go flying as they use the ice as a ramp. The rare few crack the ice to reveal the rushing water underneath.

  “You alright?” Penelope asks.

  I swear I’m getting tired of people sneaking up on me.

  “Lovely. How are you, Penelope?” I ask, riddled with sarcasm.

  “I could be doing better. Some random guy is throwing rocks on campus. You know anything about that?” she answers back.

  “I wouldn’t have the faintest idea,” I say as I [Throw] another rock into the ice.

  A moment of silence falls between us as the rhythmic tap of rock ice continues.

  “I ran into Viola. She was worried that she had upset you,” she says as she leans on the gazebo.

  “I don’t see why. Everything's fine,” I say as one of my pebbles shatters through the ice.

  “Oh, yeah, you’re fine. You’re definitely not avoiding whatever happened with Viola,” she says sarcastically.

  I let out a deep sigh as I [Throw] one last pebble. “You can think whatever you want, Penelope. It’s late, and I’m going back to my room,” I say.

  “Avoiding the problem yet again. I’m sensing a pattern.”

  “Goodnight, Penelope,” I say.

  “Who was she?” Penelope asks, stopping me in my tracks.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The woman in the painting? Who was she?” Penelope prys.

  I scratch my horn as I meet her steadfast gaze. “You’re not going to drop this, are you?”

  Penelope gives me a smile. “Considering I haven’t dropped the fact that you’re not The Chosen One, yet. My bet would be on no.”

  I let out a sigh. “She’s my mother, or at least what I remember about her,” I say, picking my words carefully.

  “What happened to her?”

  “She died. Is that enough to sate your curiosity?” I say, hiding my emotions.

  “If that’s all that you want to tell me,” she says, baiting me.

  “Tell you what. You tell me why you think I’m not The Chosen One, and I’ll tell you more.”

  “Leave it to you to turn a bonding moment into a negotiation,” she says, faking her anger.

  “You want to know more? So do I. Cough up, Penelope.”

  Penelope's ears wiggle as she crinkles her nose. “Fine. I have it on pretty good authority that The Chosen One is supposed to be handsome, brave, strong, tall, kind, and most importantly, human. So, basically the opposite of you.”

  “Well, other than the human thing that sounds exactly like me. Whoever fed you these details is obviously lying to you,” I joke.

  “Charlatan, you're only a couple of inches taller than me. Hopper is taller than you. Also, I once saw you try to pick up my greatsword. It did not look pretty,” she says.

  “First off, Hopper is taller than most people. Second off, I didn’t realize you had seen me try to do that. Also, I can’t help but notice that you only refuted the strong and tall parts of that description. So, according to you, I’m brave, kind, and most importantly, handsome,” I say with a smug smile.

  Penelope rolls her eyes. “You’ve stalled long enough. Cough it up, Charlatan,” she says, avoiding my last statement.

  “Fine. My mother died when I was young. Which left me to fend for myself. It was a rough life, and memories of my mother can stir up some heavy emotions,” I explain, carefully choosing my words.

  “What about your father?” she asks.

  “Never knew him. The only thing I know about him is that he’s a Vashrin and a deadbeat. Anything else you want to ask? I can tell you about when my horns came in or when I ate floor food for the first time,” I say, trying to defuse the tension.

  “Are you feeling better?”

  “A bit. I’d feel a lot better if you gave me a bunch of gold or some of the platinum coins in your coin pouch,” I say, feigning sadness.

  “You are feeling better. You should go apologize to Viola. She’s a bit shaken about all this. Also, how do you know that I have platinum coins in my coin pouch?” she asks.

  “You’re right. I should go apologize. Don’t want her to stop painting because of this,” I say, ignoring her.

  “Don’t ignore me, Charlatan.”

  “Speaking of Viola. Did you know she’s crushing hard on Ruby?” I say, trying to distract her.

  “You’re not going to distract- Really?”

  With a devilish smile, I let out a hearty laugh.