“Where you are is fine.” She wasn’t ready to start trying to bring life back to the dirt yet anyway. Best to start small and work up from there. At the edge where dead land meets grasslands, Allura stoops low to the ground and lowers her hand to brush her palm across the tops of the grass, closing her eyes.

Energy like quintessence flows under her skin, buzzing and swirling through her in a familiar way, starting from the core of her being, then down her arm, through her fingertips and into the ground. Visibly, there’s not much to see at first, but soon the grass at Allura’s fingertips starts growing exponentially, soon growing past where her hand lingers until the weight of it causes the stalks to bend. The smallest of buds begin to erupt from the ground, curling into flowers, like a time-lapse video brought to life. There’s even a small amount of grass that begins to creep into the dead parts of the dirt, and when Allura opens her eyes, she smiles.

“So my idea may work after all.”