Greta cradled the white rose. The very second her skin brushed the delicate stem, a profound, soothing warmth bloomed within her chest. She lowered her head, softly pressing her nose to the petals. The intoxicating, serene fragrance of fresh leaves and crisp morning dew overwhelmed her senses. 'It smells exactly like the roses Father used to bring me.' While Greta basked in the floral scent, Flora repeated her craft. She breathed a spark of life into another pale strand of hair in her palm, which rapidly expanded and shifted into the form of a raven, as immaculately white as freshly fallen snow. The majestic bird immediately released a raspy caw that echoed deeply throughout the chamber. "Wow... Mother! Your magiccraft is absolutely incredible!"