Lunaria Silverhorn's Arc

Chapter 2 of 6

Lunaria walked until the trees swallowed the last of the gray light. The crystal shard warmed her chest, but her antlers had faded again. Their soft glow shrank to a dull gleam, then to nothing. The path vanished into black. She stopped, afraid to take another step. One wrong footing in the dark could send her into a hidden drift or a frozen stream. She could not reach the forest's sleeping heart if she could not see the way. She pressed the shard harder against her ribs. "Light the path," she whispered. Nothing answered. The crystal gave her enough power to stand, but not enough to spare for her antlers. She knelt in the snow and listened. Somewhere ahead, water trickled under ice. Wind moved through the branches. She was blind in a wood that wanted her dead. A soft chime broke the dark. The starlit fox returned, its flecked fur glowing faint blue. It trotted past her and stopped at a pale shape between two trees. Lunaria rose and followed the glow of its fur. The shape became a small stone shrine, weathered and wrapped in moss. Two lanterns hung at its door, both unlit. Above the entrance, a carved half-moon caught the fox's light and held it. She stepped under the mossy roof. On the altar hung a frosted confection shaped from petals. It shimmered like dew turned to glass. Below it rested a creature she had never seen awake. It slept curled on the stone, blue and white, with cat ears and small antlers. A yellow crescent marked its forehead. A moonfawn. Its breath came slow and shallow. The cold had nearly taken it. Lunaria knelt beside the moonfawn. She had no warmth to waste. But she could not leave it to freeze. She took the crescent on its brow in both hands and gave it a thread of her borrowed power. The crystal flared hot against her chest. The crack widened. A second flake broke loose and fell. She bit back a cry and held on. The moonfawn opened its eyes. Its crescent marking brightened. It stood on shaking legs, then shook the frost from its fur. When it looked at her, a soft light spread from its antlers and spilled across the shrine floor. The path outside turned silver. The moonfawn had the light she had lost. It pressed its nose to her hand and stepped toward the door. Lunaria followed its glow into the trees. She could see again. But the shard in her dress had given up too much. Its light stuttered now, dim and uneven, and each flicker counted down faster than before. She had traded hours of her own power for a guide. She had to reach the sleeping heart soon, or the crystal would die with the path still unfinished.