Lunaria Silverhorn's Arc

Chapter 1 of 6

Lunaria Silverhorn pressed her palm to the frozen roses and felt nothing answer back. For a hundred winters her magic had woken these blue blossoms, and their nectar had glowed soft gold at her touch. Now the petals stayed dark. Her glowing antlers had dimmed to the color of ash. She was a deer spirit sworn to wake Hoarfrost's dying forest, and the cold was eating her faster than she could warm it. She leaned against the stone wall of her sanctuary. Snow had crept across the floor during the night. Her breath came slow. Each day she gave her warmth to the land, and each day the land took more than it returned. Soon she would be too weak to walk, let alone wake a forest. She needed a new source of power, and she had no idle time left to find one. A soft chime broke the silence. A small fox stood in the doorway. Starlike flecks shimmered across its orange fur, bright even in the gray light. It had never come so close before. It watched her with pale blue eyes, then turned and trotted out into the snow. Lunaria hesitated. Her legs shook. But the fox stopped at the treeline and looked back, waiting. She followed. The fox led her through drifts that reached her knees. Twice she fell. Twice she rose. The little creature never hurried out of sight. It brought her to a hollow beneath an ancient, ice-bound tree. There, half buried in frost, a shard of crystal glowed. It curved like a sliver of the moon, and prismatic light slid across its cracked facets. Lunaria knelt and brushed the snow away. Warmth seeped from the crystal into her fingers. Old power, patient and deep, the kind the forest had dreamed of before the cold came. This was no small thing. This was the relic that could feed her fading magic. She lifted it with both hands and pressed it to her chest. Light poured into her. Her antlers brightened. Her breath steadied. Strength returned to her legs, and the ache of the cold loosened its grip. She laughed, surprised by the sound. Then the crystal cracked wider. A thin line split its surface, and a single sharp flake fell into the snow. The glow flickered. Lunaria felt the surge of power, but she also felt the shard straining under its own age. It was not whole. It would not hold forever. The fox pressed against her shins and looked up at her. Lunaria understood. The crystal had saved her today. It had bought her the strength to act. But it was breaking, and a breaking heart could not wake a sleeping one. She wrapped the shard in the folds of her violet dress and stood. The forest's slumbering heart lay somewhere ahead, waiting. She had power now, borrowed and fragile. She had to reach the heart before the crystal failed.