Dassa Moonwhisper's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Dassa Moonwhisper had one meeting to win a place among the court's bards, and she did not know a single song they wanted to hear. Her family's friend had arranged it. The high court wizard would judge her that afternoon, inside the castle draped in glowing green blossoms. But no one had told her the rules. Ballads? Dance tunes? Grand hymns for kings? Choose wrong, and she wasted her only chance. She walked the swamp path to calm her nerves. Her small frog-like companion hopped beside her boots, round and springy, its bright eyes catching every ripple in the water. Dassa stopped beside a cluster of tall purple stalks. Green vines twisted up them. Neon blossoms crowned each one, humming faintly, as if waiting. "I don't know what they want," she told the little creature. It blinked and hopped in a slow circle. So she stopped guessing. She sat, pulled her lute across her knees, and played the song she loved best. Not a court tune. Her own. Her aura brightened as she sang, a soft glow spreading from her chest to her white hair. The blossoms answered. They pulsed with each note. Their stems stretched taller. New buds cracked open along the vines, glowing brighter with every verse. By the last line, the whole cluster leaned toward her, humming her melody back. "You've woken half the marsh." Dassa turned fast. A man stood on the path, leaning on a gnarled wood staff. A single green flower glowed near its top. His white robes carried the same neon green as the castle. Dark hair and a long beard framed blue eyes that twinkled at her. She knew the staff, the robes, the flower. This was the court wizard, and he had come early. Her face went hot. "I'm sorry. I was only practicing. I didn't know what you'd want, so I—" "So you played what was true." Cornelius Brightwood stepped closer. He touched one glowing bloom, and it curled around his finger. "Do you know how many bards perform for me? They study our old anthems. They copy the last winner. Their flowers never move." He gestured at her humming stalks. "Yours do." Dassa gripped her lute. "Then I chose right?" "You chose yourself. That is what the court has been missing." He smiled, but his eyes sharpened. "I'll bring you before the high court in three days. Play exactly that." He turned to go, then paused. "Understand this. The court has never seen magic bloom from a song. Some will love it. Others will call it a threat. You won't only be judged. You'll be tested." He walked back toward the castle. Dassa sat among the glowing stalks, her heart loud. She had her answer at last. She also had a new problem. In three days she would stand before strangers who might crown her or fear her, and she had no idea which.