The Bouquet of Flowers - An Ending

You have chosen the “Gardenweaver’s Gift “ and the path of Sorcerer

As your hands clasp the blooms, the scent of jasmine and rose fills the air, and you find yourself in another room of the library, standing in a room of green glass filled with empty flowerbeds. The flowers begin to tremble excitedly. Some twine around you, while others leap out of your hands, burrowing into the dirt like a rabbit. Buds and leaves start to bloom in every corner of the room. As you inspect your garden, you notice a note was attached to the bouquet.

It says simply, “They will go wherever you do.” You have yet to learn what that means and decide to test it. You felt a new and strange magic flowing through you as the flowers wrapped themselves around your arms earlier. Now you find that you can grow flowers from an outstretched palm, any spot in the ground, the ceiling, even sprouting from clothing. You open the door, and the garden vanishes as soon as you do. Startling you, it reappears as just a handful of blooms tucked into your clothes. You realize the note meant precisely what it said.

Once you comprehend that through this gift of sorcery, you have an eternal spring in your grasp, you set out for home. You miss your family and intend to improve your dreary homeland with the ever-blooming garden that you now possess. You open your shop as soon as you arrive, and you become something the townsfolk have never heard of - a “Florist.” When the village is threatened, you use your magic to bring up impenetrable walls of thorny vines, sending out roots to ensnare any foe foolish enough to come close.

Your town thrives with the business your flowers bring in. It will become renowned far and wide for being the home of the most beautiful garden in the world and for the caretaker - a powerful and benevolent sorcerer who wears clothing made of flowers and ivy. People will talk reverently of you for many decades after you pass away. Tales would be told how petals would fall from your cape and fill the street as you walked.

They would say that with a wave of your hand, all the townspeople would also be covered in blossoms sprouting from braids, beards, and buttonholes alike. You were invited to every wedding held in your lifetime. The garden remains planted there for all time and never moves again.

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