Cyren Finnwake's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Cyren Finnwake stood at the edge of the forest and clasped the seashell necklace shut. He was in love with a prince who feared the sea, and the sea lived in his own face. His hair ran deep blue with lighter streaks. His eyes shone sapphire. If any landlocked villager saw those, they would bar their doors and never let him near the palace. So he needed the necklace's magic, and he needed the woods that hid the road to the prince. The shells warmed against his chest. He felt the change crawl up his neck. When he looked down at his hands, nothing seemed different, but a puddle by the tree roots showed a stranger. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Plain as any farmer's son. He grinned at the reflection, then felt the grin fade. He looked nothing like himself now. His kelp cat pressed against his leg. Its green fur rippled like weed in a current. "Konbu," Cyren said, scratching its ears, "you at least still know me." The cat purred and trotted ahead into the trees. The forest closed thick and dim. Cyren pushed through ferns and stepped over roots. He was hunting a heartseed blossom, the flower said to bring luck in love. He would need every scrap of luck. But the trees grew alike in every direction, and soon he could not tell the way he had come. Something bright darted between the branches. It landed on a low limb and folded shimmering wings. A small dragon, orange scales and gold, with pointed cat ears and a tail that curled like a question. It tilted its head and studied him. "You walk like a lost thing," it said. Its voice was quick and warm. "I'm Snapdragon. And you're wearing a shell that lies. I can smell the salt under it." Cyren went still. "You can tell what I am?" "Little dragons see through little tricks." Snapdragon dropped to Konbu's height and sniffed noses with the cat. "Don't fret. The village folk aren't as clever as me. That charm will fool them fine." She flicked her tail toward the deep woods. "You're after the heart flowers. I know where they grow." She led them through a gap in the brush. Cyren followed her flashing wings until the ground dipped into a hollow. There, clustered in the shade, grew the blossoms. Blue buds crowned each stem. Beneath them hung petals shaped like small red hearts. Cyren knelt and cut one plant free. He wrapped the roots in a damp cloth and tucked it into his vest pocket. "Now you rest," Snapdragon said. "Night's coming, and no one sleeps in these woods without walls." She brought them to a lodge half-swallowed by vines. Purple flowers spilled over its porch. The windows were whole, the door unlocked. Cyren stepped inside, safe, hidden, his disguise holding and the luck flower in his pocket. Tomorrow the road would take him toward the prince. Inside the lodge, logs still sat by an intact hearth, and Cyren starts a warm fire. "Well, Konbu, so far so good, huh? I think we made a friend today." He comments as he lies in front of the hearth, his faithful kelp cat curling against him as the sun sets over the forest.