Briar Thorne's Arc

Chapter 10 of 11

Briar knelt at the center stone and bound the three glowing strands to the buds around it. The unicorn hair warmed in her fingers. One by one, the buds it touched swelled and split open. Pink petals unfolded, wide and bright, frost still clinging to their edges. The snowblush blossoms were waking. Briar's chest tightened with hope. Then she looked up and counted. The strands only reached the flowers right beside the stone. Past them, a gap of dead stone stretched to the sealed wall. And inside that wall, hidden in the crack, the fox kit still waited where she had trapped it from the beast. Briar pried at the ice she had packed into the crack. It would not break. She clawed until her fingers bled cold. The kit pressed close to the gap, its silver-flame fur glowing, but it would not squeeze out. It whined and backed away each time she reached in. "Please," Briar said. "Come out. I can't bloom the rest without you." The kit only shivered deeper into the dark. "It won't come for you." The voice was thin as melting snow. Briar turned. The princess stood by the stone, her red dress pale and flickering. Celestine had worn this garden like a grave for longer than Briar had been alive. Now she was nearly gone. Briar could see the stone straight through her. The strand bound to the center stone was all that held her here. "You're too weak," Briar said. "You should be resting." "The kit is the goddess's fire," Celestine said. "It knows her love. It knows mine." She drifted to the sealed wall. Her thin hand hovered over the crack. "We are the same thread. The strands tie us. So does she." Briar understood then. The unicorn hair, the goddess's gift, the old love between the spirit and her goddess—they ran through all of it. "Call it," Briar said. Celestine lowered herself to the ice. She spoke no words Briar could hear. She only pressed close to the crack and let what warmth she had left pour toward the kit. The fox kit lifted its head. Its ears turned. Slowly it crept to the gap, drawn to the spirit the way the unicorns had come to the snow blossom. It pushed its nose against the ice. The frozen seal cracked, then fell away. The kit tumbled out into Celestine's faint arms. Briar lifted the kit and carried it across the dead stone. She set it among the far buds and touched a strand to each in turn. Warmth spread from the kit's fur. The last blossoms opened, row after row, pink and full against the ice. Nearly the whole ring around the stone now bloomed. Celestine sank against the stone, dimmer than before. "It is almost done," she whispered. "But the goddess waits. The blooms must hold until she comes to break the spell. And I am fading faster than they open."