Elowyn's Arc

Chapter 4 of 12

Elowyn made the turn past the twisted tree. The blossoms thinned, and there it stood in a patch of pale light. One small flower with translucent petals. The same flower pressed in her grandmother's journal. Her hands shook as she opened her satchel and drew out her empty herbarium. She knelt and reached for the stem. "You'll want to stop there," said a soft voice. A tiny godling stood between Elowyn and the bloom. Her head was too large for her small body, crowned with pale flowers and teal leaves. Her eyes were enormous and calm. Elowyn had heard of her from Tavian. This was Thessalyne, who tended the boundary between the ordinary world and Wonderwyld's sacred places. She had guarded groves for centuries. And she did not look angry, which somehow made Elowyn more careful. "I only want one bloom," Elowyn said. "To press. To keep." "Everyone only wants one," Thessalyne said. Her voice stayed gentle. "I lost a whole grove that way, one bloom at a time, while I slept. This one does not leave for nothing." She folded her tiny hands. "You may take it. But you must trade something you value. The garden remembers what things cost." Tavian caught up behind her. "She means it," he murmured. "The softer she talks, the more she means it." Elowyn opened her satchel wider. She looked at what she carried. Turquoise rings. A celestial medallion. Charms she had gathered across Wonderwyld. She had already given her crescent moon charm to Tairo. Each thing here was small and dear. Then she stopped. Her fingers found the journal itself. Her grandmother's journal, with the pressed flower still inside. The faint smell that had started everything. This was the most valuable thing she owned. "You want what I value most," Elowyn said slowly. She lifted the journal out. "This is it. But if I trade the journal, I lose the flower that sent me here." Thessalyne watched, patient as a season. Elowyn opened the journal instead. She peeled the old pressed flower from its page. Its petals were thin as breath. "I'll trade you this," she said. "The first of its kind I ever found. I'll keep the empty page and the memory of its smell. You keep the flower." Thessalyne's huge eyes softened. She took the old bloom in both hands, as if receiving something living. "You understand cost," she said. "Most people offer me trinkets." She stepped aside. Elowyn cut the fresh flower and pressed it into her herbarium. The first true page. She smoothed the translucent petals flat. But her grandmother's original was gone now, given away. Thessalyne lingered as they rose to leave. "The boundary is thinning," she said quietly. "Paths open that should not. If you keep gathering blooms, you will reach places even I have lost." She looked at Elowyn's herbarium. "Guard that better than I guarded my grove."