Untitled Starfell #2 (Starfell #2) - Dominique Valente Page 0,42

art of forgotten telling. The text outlined each plant’s propagation history, along with the observations of past oubliers.

Willow started going through the pages with more speed, until she caught sight of a purple plant and gasped.

There it was – a simple plant that looked like a purple iris with long, thin, dark blue roots suspended in the air. There were two drawings, one of the plant in its natural state and another of what looked like a house made of purple-and-blue glittery smoke. She read the text aloud.

‘Mimic plant. While referred to in the singular form, the plant is a set – a pair of twins that can be planted in different locations. When the iris-like flower has been watered, the plant forms a smoke-like substance and mimics its surroundings.’

Willow gasped. ‘I did that! I watered it and then it turned smoky and strange – and turned into … well … me! It was mimicking me. This must be the mimic plant!’

‘That’s incredible,’ breathed Essential.

‘What else does it say? How will it help us?’ cried Feathering, and Willow read the rest aloud.

‘However, if one dies, the other will not live. It is believed that they can communicate their locations to one another if they are separated. These effects were discovered when the plants were potted in separate locations by renowned oublier, Ready Sometimes. When she submerged the roots of one plant in water at midnight (midnight and the moon having transformative effects on many magical plants), it transformed not into a smoke-like shadow of herself, but displayed instead a replica of the garden where its twin was planted. The plants were used as a means of communicating the secret locations of magicians during the Long War as a way to keep families safe, but this has long gone out of common usage now. See page 73 for more plants that were used during the war …’

Willow touched the jam jar plant, but it didn’t transform into the smoky substance. ‘It needs to be watered! Then it’ll change into me again.’

There was a fountain nearby and Essential dashed to get the plant some water. They watched as the smoke seemed to judder slightly in the glass jar, then it transformed into a girl with very curly hair and large glasses, her face beaming. ‘If this is part of a pair,then—’

‘He must have the other plant!’ cried Willow.

‘They are used to tell the location of one another,’ breathed Feathering. ‘Remarkable.’

‘Does that mean he can see us now?’ exclaimed Essential, pushing up her glasses.

‘No,’ said Sprig. He leant forward to reread the passage aloud. ‘When she submerged the roots of one plant in water at midnight … it … displayed … a replica of the garden where its twin was planted.’

‘We have to wait till midnight to submerge the roots. Then we’ll know where he is!’ said Willow with a wide grin.

Finally!

18

The Ghost Tree

They approached the fountain in the centre of the Old Library Gardens a second time just before midnight.

Though they’d been impatient for night to fall, hope had buoyed them, and they had passed the afternoon strolling along the Library streets. In the evening, they had eaten dinner at a bookish café, which had served Feathering whole baked pumpkins out of one of their windows, to his delight.

As they crept near the fountain now, the topiary children gathered round them at a safe distance from the dragon, curious as to what they were doing. Willow’s foot stepped on a paving stone, and it began to glow, like candlelight. Dozens followed as they neared the fountain.

‘Wow!’ gasped Willow.

‘It’s like another world at night,’ breathed Essential, the lights reflecting in her glasses.

Willow sat beside the fountain and unscrewed the lid of the jam jar. The purple mimic plant glowed slightly under the garden lights. At that moment, the town clock chimed twelve times, and at the final stroke she dipped the jar in the fountain until water submerged the plant’s long blue roots.

The others waited as she brought it out of the water and replaced the lid. Nothing seemed to happen at first. The plant turned into glittery purple smoke, forming a miniature version of Willow as she held the jar. Then, very slowly, it began to change into a brighter, electric shade of purple, transforming itself until it resembled an enormous tree surrounded by clouds, with exposed roots that swam in a swirling, smoky blue mist.

Willow brought it up to her eye level and frowned. She recognised it. They all did. ‘It’s