Rory shivered in the cold and rubbed his hands together. A puff of steam from his lips made them warm for a moment before the biting chill settled back in.

'Damn winter. This is the worst season, bar none.'

Perhaps because he was a autumn child, but Aurelius Glorianus, nicknamed Rory, couldn't stand the cold. Everything in the world lived like it was dead during those months of dark and cold. Or worse, some things really just died.

'Oops.'

Rory's feet slipped out from under him, his boot caught on a branch hidden beneath the carpet of snow. He caught himself with his hands and knees, staring at a fresh green sprout poking up out of the snow.

Aurelius blinked at the fragile little plant, his breath condensing into dewdrops on its leaves.

"You're early," he murmured. "Winter's only just started."

Sitting back on his knees, Rory considered for a moment before digging his slim fingers past the snow and soil and uprooting the sprout—gently, so that it could be replanted elsewhere. He stood up and continued through the forest road, steadily making his way home.

The warmth of the indoors compared to the freezing chill outside made his face and hands burn. Rory stripped himself of his scarf and coat and hug them by the door. Underneath, he wore the thin and beautiful silk robes tupical of an apprentice sorcerer, and they didn't hold an ounce of heat. It was nice in the summer…

Stretching his lithe figure and rubbing melted snowflakes out of his long eyelashes, Rory turned his sky-blue eyes at the sprout he had harvested.

'Now, what am I going to do with y…ou…!'

Feeling his heart skip a beat, Aurelius dropped the sprout in his hands. I'm just the few minutes since he'd last looked at it, it had doubled in size, sporting denser roots and many more leaves. It had grown despite not having any soil to grow in.

After a moment passed and the plant on the floor didn't seem to be doing anything, Rory took a few deep breaths and calmed down. Clearly, this was some kind of magical plant. It just surprised him, that was all. He didn't see any signs of damage or infection on the palm of the hand that had held the plant, so it didn't seem poisonous at least.

'Teacher might like to see this.' Rory thought of the old sorcerer who had taught him magic. Though he had already learned everything the run-of-the-mill mage could teach, they still had a good relationship, and he would be visiting tomorrow anyway to help him take care of the chores in this miserable weather.

It wasn't as though Rory had anyone else to show the plant to. Not since his parents had died four years ago or his childhood friend had left for greener pastures in the nearby city.

Rory searched around the house, finding a flower pot and some soil to plant the magical sprout in. But the moment he picked it up, it started to rapidly grow again—this time at a speed visible to the naked eye.

He pulled his hands away before the growing branches and roots could entangle them, and the plant became innert once more. Rory frowned at what was now a bush, its leaves starting to yellow as if in the throes of autumn. He closed his eyes and searched inside of himself, but his mana had not depleted one bit.

'I could have sworn it was feeding on me though.'

Why else would the plant grow suddenly while he held it and stopped when he let go?

But… now it looked like the plant was on the verge of dying. Filled with a mage's curiosity, Rory laid his hands on the bush again, watching as it reached its full size, then as it's leaves turned golden, and then brown, then withered and fell away.

"What in the world…?"

The deadwood that remained, somehow, was shaped perfectly like a crown, with antler-like branches and three central prongs, studded with golden leaves instead of gemstones. There was no way this was a naturally occurring phenomenon. Some sorcerer had to have engineered the magical plant to do this. But who and why?