Story:

“I was once a raspberry. But the orchard changed me.”

In the hush of the Alchemist’s Orchard, where roots drink moonlight and spells bloom on branches, Thessalia grew wild - unbound by season, color, or rule. Each berry she bears glows with different magic. Red for fire and flame. Purple for secrets kept. Twilight-blue for truths revealed too soon. Golden for the memory of who you were before the world told you not to be. She appears sweet - but beware. Thessalia’s fruit sings in many tongues, and not all are safe to taste. She chooses her seekers. She binds what must not be lost. She is the Oracle’s bloom. The whisper between sweetness and spell. She is not tame. She is becoming.

Spell:

Blush of bloom, beware the bite - One for dark and one for light. Taste me sweet, but seek me true, For what I give, I take from you. Curl of vine and rune of thorn, I am spell and I am form, If you eat, then know your name - I bloom in truth. I do not tame.