Elara Moonpetal's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

The warrior's severed wings lay on Elara Moonpetal's table, and Elara had never mended a wing in her life. She was a fairy who healed cuts and fevers, nothing more. But the fae warrior on her cot had lost both wings defending Elara's grove, and no other healer would come. Elara pressed a wet cloth to the torn stumps on the warrior's back. The warrior gritted her teeth and did not cry out. "Can you do it?" the warrior asked. Elara did not answer. She had studied the old healing lore only in fragments. Wings were living magic, not flesh. Mend them wrong, and the scars would twist. The warrior might never fly again. Elara looked at her small hands and knew they weren't enough alone. She left the cottage and crossed to her greenhouse, where she grew the herbs that fed her magic. There she found her oldest friend waiting among the ferns. The unicorn stood white and calm, its spiral horn catching the light. Elara had raised it from a foal. It lowered its head to her shoulder. "I can't heal her," Elara said. "I don't know the wing lore. I could scar her worse." The unicorn stamped once and turned toward the door. It wanted her to follow. Elara understood. A unicorn's horn held the deepest healing magic in the grove. Alone, her hands would fail. Joined to the horn, they might not. She led the unicorn back to the cottage. The warrior watched them enter, her jaw tight with pain. Elara knelt at the cot and laid one hand on each ragged stump. The unicorn pressed the tip of its horn between her wrists. Warmth ran down Elara's arms. "Hold still," Elara said. "This will burn." The warrior nodded. Elara closed her eyes and let the magic move through her. She felt the broken threads of the wings, frayed and wrong. She could not grow new wings from nothing. She could only seal the wounds clean, so no scar would twist the flesh. She worked slowly, matching each torn edge, smoothing what she could. The warrior's breath came ragged, then steadied. When Elara opened her eyes, the stumps were healed. The skin was smooth and whole. No scar marred the warrior's back. But the wings were still gone. Elara had saved the flesh, not the flight. The warrior reached back and touched the healed skin. Her face fell. "They're closed," she said. "But I still can't fly." "I know," Elara said. "I couldn't grow them back. Not with my magic. Not with the horn." She sat down hard, drained. "To make new wings, I'll need something more. A creature strong enough to give part of itself." The unicorn shook its mane and stepped back. It had given all it could. Elara looked at the smooth, wingless back and knew her real work had only started.