Dusty, the Earth Slime, also surfaced from the depths of the soil. He looked like a spherical mud pie, covered from head to, well, bottom, in dark, rich loam. He wiggled slightly, shaking off a few loose clods. [That was hard work. But... looking at it now, it really is satisfying, isn't it?]
Ewan felt as though his bones had been removed and replaced with lead. His limbs trembled uncontrollably, drained of all strength. He didn't even have the energy to walk back into the house. Instead, he simply let gravity win, collapsing backward onto the cool, tiled floor of the porch. He lay there, chest heaving, staring out at the collective achievement of his elemental team.
It was a stark, almost violent contrast to the rest of the landscape.
In the middle of a front yard dominated by gray gravel, jagged rocks, and the bleached, skeletal remains of dead weeds, there now lay a perfect square of darkness. Four square meters of soil, black as obsidian and smooth as velvet. The surface was perfectly level, tilled to a fluffy, aerated consistency that begged to be planted in.
But it was the smell that was truly miraculous. From that small patch of earth rose the scent of petrichor, of rich damp mud, and the faint, sweet enzyme smell of crushed vegetation and active bacteria. It was the smell of life, a scent that, on this desolate, rock-infested "Death Planet" was likely rarer than gold. Most people here lived their entire lives without ever smelling fertile earth in their own front yards.
A weary but profoundly satisfied smile spread across Ewan's face, even as his complexion turned a shade paler from the exertion.
"You guys did amazing." He whispered, his voice raspy: "I didn't waste my love on you little rascals after all."
Flarie, the Fire Slime, who had the most stamina of the group, hovered solicitously around Ewan. He acted like a living blow-dryer, radiating a gentle, dry heat to evaporate the cold sweat soaking Ewan's clothes.
[Brother, Brother! What are we going to plant here later?] Flarie chirped, bobbing up and down: [Let's plant chili peppers! The really red, hot ones! I love spicy things!]
Bubbly, the Water Slime, immediately rippled with indignation: [No way! Peppers are gross. Let's plant watermelons, Brother. Big, juicy watermelons. They have lots of water, and they're sweet and cooling to eat.]
Ewan giggled softly, listening to the bickering of the elemental children in his head. It was a comforting noise. He turned his head slightly, looking toward the wooden gate at the entrance of the courtyard. A thought drifted through his hazy mind: I wonder if Asher will have a heart attack when he comes back and sees this?
A sudden gust of wind swept down from the direction of the distant mountains. It carried the biting chill of the ancient forest, cutting through the warmth of the afternoon. Ewan shivered violently, goosebumps erupting on his arms. Realizing that his weakened state left him vulnerable to the cold, he quickly recalled the Slimes.
With a mental command, he absorbed Mossy, Dusty, Bubbly, and Shiny back into his spiritual space to let them recharge in the comfort of his soul. He kept only Flarie out, instructing the little fireball to hover close to his shoulder like a personal heater.
Just then, a sound broke the quiet of the dusk.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
It was the sound of heavy, rhythmic footsteps approaching from the trail. They were weighted, steady, and moving with a sense of urgency.
Asher Ryder had returned.
The tall Alpha appeared at the gate, looking like the epitome of a rugged frontiersman. His outdoor gear was stained with streaks of green sap and forest grime. On one broad shoulder, he effortlessly balanced a massive branch from an ancient oak tree, likely for firewood or lumber, while his other hand gripped the handle of the familiar wicker basket.
Asher stepped into the courtyard, intending to walk straight to the door. But the moment his boot crossed the threshold, he froze.
He stood rooted to the spot, his body going rigid. His eyes, usually sharp and composed, widened in sheer disbelief as they locked onto the anomaly in the center of his yard. He stared blankly at the square of pitch-black, fertile soil that stood out against the gray wasteland like a diamond in a pile of coal.
For a long moment, his brain simply refused to process the visual data. Then, his gaze snapped to Ewan, who was sitting slumped on the porch, looking like a ghost but smiling brighter than the setting sun behind him.
"You..." Asher stammered. His voice was hoarse, stripped of its usual authority by shock: "Did you... did you actually perform magic?"
Ewan grinned, a weak, playful expression. "Hehe..." He tried to grab the porch pillar to hoist himself up, but his legs were like jelly. They buckled immediately.
Seeing the boy falter, Asher snapped out of his trance. He dropped the heavy oak branch with a loud crash and crossed the distance in two long strides, reaching out to catch Ewan before he could hit the floor.
"I told you not to overexert yourself!" Asher scolded, his tone rough with worry, but his actions were incredibly gentle. He scooped Ewan up, supporting the boy's weight against his solid chest.
Instantly, Ewan was enveloped in the scent of Black Tea. It was Asher's pheromones, warm, earthy, and grounding. It wrapped around Ewan like a thick blanket, soothing his frayed nerves.
Ewan leaned into the support, struggling to find his center of gravity. He raised a trembling hand, pointing a finger toward the black square in the yard. His voice dripped with exhausted pride.
"Look at that, Asher. That is premium agricultural land. Top tier. High quality. Now... do you believe me when I say I can grow vegetables in the front yard?"
Asher looked at the soil, dark and rich. Then he looked down at Ewan's hands. He saw the small, fresh scratches and dirt embedded under the fingernails from where Ewan had manually checked the soil or moved stones. Asher's gaze softened, the sternness melting away to reveal a depth of indulgence and affection that he himself wasn't fully aware of.
"I believe you." Asher said softly: "You are the best. Truly capable."
He shifted Ewan's weight to one arm and lifted the wicker basket he was still holding with the other: "Does the 'best gardener' want to see his reward? I found it. A jar of wild honey and a packet of ancient pollen. It should be enough to feed those gluttonous little spirits of yours until they're fat and happy."