Karma would elegantly stride around the counter and kneel in front of the child, a kind smile gracing her lips as she picked up the flowerpot holding a browning, droopy flower.
“Hello, Mahdav.”
She offered the flowerpot back to him, but the boy just shook his head.
“It died… I did everything you said to, but it still died…”
“Oh no, it’s not dead, little one. Here, hold the flower in you hands.”
She would beckon Mahdav over, and he would do just as directed. Unbenknownst to him, Karma would infuse the plant with her magick, and so when the child moved his hands, it would be fully bloomed.
“You gave it so much water it fell asleep, all you needed to do was wake it up.”
Soraka smiled, the magic evident to her in the way the air shifted around them. It felt different—much more powerful than she could recall. Something about the way Karma spoke with the young boy even alluded to things changing. Had she really been gone so long as to miss this much? She stood from her position at the table to look over Karma’s shoulder, fingers tracing over the back of her arms out of view. Her voice would be a whisper against Karma’s ear, “You’ve become quite strong, my love.”
