Lunaria Silverhorn's Arc

Chapter 4 of 6

Lunaria climbed down into the basin. The moonfawn picked its way behind her, antlers throwing light on the ice. The fox stayed close at her heels. At the bottom lay the sleeping heart, a great knot of frozen roots curled around a dim glow. The glow pulsed, slow and weak, like the last warmth in a dying coal. Lunaria knelt beside it. She had crossed the whole frozen wood to reach this. Now she had no idea how to wake it. She pressed her palm to the roots. Nothing. She reached for her own magic and felt only the cracked shard at her chest, down to a red ember. If she poured it in wrong, she could snuff the heart out for good. One mistake, and the forest would never wake. Her hand shook above the glow. The fox chimed and backed away. The moonfawn lowered its head. Both creatures stared past her, into the dark. The glow brightened. Lunaria turned. A woman stood in the basin. Her gown hung in layers of frost, pale as new snow. Silver hair drifted around her as if it floated underwater. Lunaria knew her at once. The Moon Goddess of Hoarfrost. Her friend, lost to an enchanted sleep. The sleeping heart was not a tree's. It was hers. "Nevelune," Lunaria breathed. The goddess flickered, thin as breath on glass. "You came so far," she said. Her voice wavered. "Do not force me awake. Pour your power in, and you will only burn me out. I am too far down." "Then how?" Lunaria asked. "Tell me how." Nevelune's icy eyes drifted to the fox, then the fawn, then back. A faint smile touched her. "You gave your strength to the little one to save it," she said. "You did not spend it. You shared it. That is the door." Lunaria understood. She had tried to push magic through her whole journey. The heart did not need a push. It needed a gift. She took the shard from her chest and held it in both hands. She did not drive it at the goddess. She laid it against the frozen roots and let it rest there, open. The ember spread. It did not drain in a rush. It moved slow, like warmth passing between two held hands. The roots creaked. Frost cracked and fell. The dim glow swelled and turned gold. Nevelune's form grew solid. Color returned to her face. She drew one long breath and opened her eyes fully. "Oh," she said, delighted, like a child at first snow. "You clever, stubborn deer." The shard in Lunaria's hands went dark. Spent. Empty. Her antlers dimmed to nothing. The light now came from the goddess alone, growing by the second. Nevelune reached down and touched Lunaria's cheek. Her hand was warm. "You woke me," she said softly. "But I am not yet strong enough to hold back the blizzard above. Help me stand. We must climb before the storm buries this place."