Dom Thornwood's Arc

Chapter 12 of 14

Dom kept walking until the trees thinned and the arch came into view. A second shape stood between him and the stone. The moth-stag waited on the path, wings half-open, antlers tipped toward the sky. The air around its hooves shimmered with a pale mist, and small wings turned inside it like leaves on slow water. Dom stopped. He did not lift the skull. He did not reach for the compass. He let his arms hang and watched. The stag held something in its teeth. A loop of pale blue flowers, woven tight into a bridle, the stems still green. Behind it, a smaller archway of mossy wood and braided branches framed the true stone arch beyond. One doorway inside another, like a question folded into its answer. The stag stepped forward and lowered its head. It laid the flower bridle at Dom's feet. Then it stood back and waited, lantern eyes steady, asking nothing and offering everything. Dom understood. He had not been chosen the first time. He was being chosen now, by the loop itself, to wear the harness he had refused to want. He knelt. He picked up the bridle. The petals were cold and did not bruise in his hands. The stag turned and walked through the small wooden frame toward the stone, and Dom followed, the skull under one arm and the flowers in the other, ready to pay the last price.