While the planet's rotation was generally good to it, there were some sections of Kovomaka where it was almost always night, even outside of the Realm of Darkness.
As a child, PIstachio hated those places. He'd been a timid child, and the shadows that moved every time a leaf would rustle were unnerving even when he didn't realize it was meant to be the middle of the day. He'd grown braver, over time, more adventurous, but it was still rare that he would step into a place that had been so consigned to darkness.
And yet, that was what he was doing now. Walking through a thick forest that hadn't seen an active sun in months, but was still as lively as those who got to see sunlight almost daily. Or, at least, that's how it seemed from all of the leaves and vines in the area. Pistachio had yet to see a single Wood Spirit, and he considered himself to be very good at spotting them.
Something wasn't right. "Isolde," He whispered, his magic powering the summons just as much as the spirit's name did, and the spirit of Mimolette Forest appeared over his shoulder. Despite being such a powerful spirit, Isolde was a small one, having originally been the spirit of a pinecone before growing into something more in a rare transmutation. She was still yellow, still covered in a bristly green fuzz in places, but had moved from a larval form to something more vulpine in shape, about the size of her vox friend's head.
"Is something the matter?" She asked, landing gracefully by his heel. "This isn't the Realm of Darkness, is it? You know how much I hate it there!"
Pistachio shook his head. "Something doesn't seem right, here, and I can't see any spirits to ask about it. I'd try to draw them out, but I ran out of pinecones yesterday." In hindsight, he should have kept at least one on hand, but magically-conjured seeds tended to suffice for anything short of convincing a spirit to appear when they didn't want to.
The spirit's ears twitched, and she made a big show of sniffing the air. "Well, there's definitely spirits here," She declared. "Though, that much was obvious. You can't have a forest without Wood Spirits, whether or not the forest has a spirit of its own, and definitely not one this overgrown. It's just that..."
"Is something wrong?" He glanced around the dark forest, searching for any signs of yellow or green in the tree branches. Isolde nodded, padding up to a particularly thick bramble.
"They're all scared." Her voice was low, quiet, as if she were letting Pistachio in on the world's biggest secret. "Because of the fear of a child hiding here. A child who bears the blessings of Gren. And I cannot make them tell me more. The power of the planet Gren is holding these vines and their spirits in place- even your telekinetic abilities would be hard-pressed to break through."
Well, yes, but it wasn't like PIstachio made his living as a psychic, now, was it? There wasn't even anyone out there who could teach such abilities. For all he knew, he was the only person to have that power since the fall of the Espresso civilization.
"And if I augmented them with magic?" He suggested.
"...Call a few more of us. Your powers lend themselves to new growth, and it's near-impossible to work against your talent without having other abilities to augment it." Which he had, of course, his telekinetic prowess being mistaken for magic the only reason Biscotti had invited him to attend Will-o-Wisp in the first place, at least as far as anyone could see. He had no idea whether the immortal man had ever encountered other psychics or not. Biscotti certainly wasn't telling.
Still he nodded, and reached out with his magic to call more spirits who would augment his powers.
After a powerful display of abilities both mental and spiritual, Pistachio's spirits faded back to their homes, and he stepped into a clearing containing a young pale green salamander dressed in the male fashion. The boy glanced up at him, shaking but defiant.
"Who are you?" What was left of the brambles began to move, as though the wizard from a magicless race was planning to eternally trap himself in a briar patch of his own creation.
"I am Pistachio Maplewood, professor of magical sciences and history. What's your name?" He had to be gentle. Children with thorns as their magical talent tended to take on their barbs for a reason, and he wouldn't want to accidentally stab himself through.
"Leafgreen. No given name." The boy did not back down. "What are you doing here? Did the den send you?" Honestly, given the circumstances he was inclined to never let this child near a salamander den again.
"I was just taking a walk, and the spirits told me something was wrong. I have never been permitted to enter a salamander den." He'd heard that the dens on Gren tended to be more open to those with the potential for magic, but that wasn't necessarily saying much, and he'd never left Kovomaka to begin with. "You know how they are?" Was saying that a bad idea? Saying that was probably a bad idea.
The boy nodded. "Wizards do not belong among the salamanders." The line sounded rehearsed, as if he'd been made to repeat it until it stuck in his brain. "And so, the salamanders will never turn to wizards."
And, of course, the wizards didn't need the salamanders, allowing for two circles of beings that would never, ever overlap. Until, of course, they did.
Pistachio may have favored advanced classes and concepts, but at heart, he was still a teacher. He was sure he could figure out what to do with a teenager.
If there was one thing the Realm of Light held that Pistachio enjoyed, it was the fact that it was covered in forest. Leafgreen seemingly preferred the fact that it was always sunny and that there was nobody around who would force him not to bask. Spending just a day in the sunlight was enough for his scales to darken to a healthier-looking color, though at least he had the excuse of hiding out in a place where it was almost always night.
Still, there were things that needed to be done as soon as possible. Such as finding something else to call him. "People are supposed to have given names." Pistachio didn't think he should have needed to explain it, but then, he was used to having to give explanations. Not only did he have to tell people that only half of the things he could do were actually magic, but he had gone into teaching roughly the instant he graduated.
The boy took a look at the menu for the cafe they were eating at. "How about this?" He asked, pointing at a word seemingly at random.
"...Chai? Do you like the way that sounds?" Pistachio had his misgivings about picking a child's name based off of a menu of all things, but it did actually sound like a name.
"...Sounds pretty cool." He still wouldn't make eye contact, but he seemed happy enough.
Pistachio was beginning to get the suspicion that Chai couldn't read. He supposed he'd have to take the time to fix that.
Almost a year later, Madeleine showed up with Biscotti's bicentennial job offer. Pistachio had been avoiding Will-o-Wisp for a while, only partially out of bitterness for the war he was orchestrated into being a soldier in, but he could see certain benefits in taking the position now.
"I'll do it," He declared, glancing over to where a salamander was curled up in a briar patch. If his old teacher was surprised by him actually accepting, she didn't show it. "On one condition."