His breath caught. His heart felt like it might burst from his chest. As he stared at that solitary bloom, bleached of all its lovely colour, he couldn't help but doubt. What if, this one time, he had chosen incorrectly?

On impulse, he lifted a hand and focused, snapping his fingers to produce a larger field of the selfsame flower. These ones would not bleach. They were a Creation not unlike his (their) city. As they materialised all around them, he found himself watching the Lightwarden desperately for further signs of recognition.