Aster Alloway's Arc

Chapter 24 of 26

The shoot leaned in Aster's cheap tray. She had set the tray on a borrowed shelf, high on the shed wall. But the shelf sagged. Its nails pulled loose from the old wood. Each time the door swung, the shelf shook, and the tray slid an inch toward the edge. One good bump would send her six years to the floor. The tray was too shallow. The shoot needed a real pot, wide and heavy, one that would sit firm on the ground and not tip. Aster searched the shed. She had trowels, twine, cracked clay saucers. Nothing big enough. Nothing steady. She stood in the doorway and pressed all four hands to her head. A voice came from the lane. "Your light's leaking." Bella stood there, her green apron marked with red and brown paint. Bella was the neighbor who had started all this. She had given Aster the compass, and her sister's old pack, and one job: bring back proof. Aster had brought it. Bella had barely spoken to her since. She painted rot and kept to herself. "I have a shoot," Aster said. "No pot. The shelf will drop it." Bella looked past her at the leaning tray. She did not say she was glad. She did not ask about her sister. "Wait," she said, and left. She came back rolling something huge. A ceramic pot, tall as her waist, covered in wild color and tiny mirrored tiles. Bright stones ringed its lip. It caught the shed light and threw sparks across the floor. "Bought it years ago," Bella said. "Never used it. Too loud for me." Aster stared. "It's beautiful." "It's heavy," Bella said. "That's what you need." She tipped it. It barely rocked, then settled flat. "Won't tip. Won't slide." Together they filled the pot with soil. Aster lifted the shoot from the shallow tray, root and all, and set it deep in the new bed. She packed the dirt around it. The pot sat square on the shed floor, low and firm. No shelf. No fall. She hung the eternal light above it. The mirrored tiles caught the glow and threw it back, wrapping the shoot in shine from every side. "It likes the light better now," Aster said. The bud stood straight, no longer leaning. Bella watched it a moment. "She would have wanted to see this," she said. Then she cut herself off. She turned to go. "Bella." Aster touched her arm. "Thank you." Bella nodded once and walked back to her own door. Aster knelt by the pot. The shoot was safe now, rooted and steady. But the mirrored ball hummed from the corner, and the light burned above. The pot glowed. She could not leave the shed door open, or the song would leak and the spores would fade. She had a home for the bloom. Now she had to keep the whole small room alive around it.